The flash of purple lightning that tore across the sky seemed like a declaration of war from the gods.
"It looks like we're running out of time, Lord Klein." The smile on Cohen's face stiffened. He waved to the men behind him. "Come on, men! Quick! Get all the goods Lord Klein ordered unloaded!"
The caravan hands were clearly aware of the deadly Crying Moon, and they moved swiftly, unloading one heavy wooden crate after another from the wagons.
Cohen took a parchment list from his coat and handed it to Velin.
"Lord Klein, as per your request, all the supplies are here."
Barrett's lone eye scanned the list, his pupil constricting sharply.
[Five military-grade steel-arm crossbows, with five hundred complimentary armor-piercing crossbow bolts: 12 Golden Suns]
[Six bottles of the Magic Potion 'Clear Potion' (expedited preparation): 8 Golden Suns]
[2,000 lbs of Earth Vein Rock Powder, 2,000 lbs of Obsidian Powder, 1,000 lbs of Basilisk Blood: 63 Golden Suns]
[Total: 83 Golden Suns]
Barrett's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he was rendered speechless. Eighty-three Golden Suns! That was enough money for him to retire and live out the rest of his days in comfort back home!
Yet this young lord, without batting an eye, was dumping his entire fortune into this godforsaken swamp.
Cohen watched Velin with keen interest. 'What in the world did this wastrel find in the swamp? What could possibly be worth him burning through money like this?'
While his mind raced, his words were full of enthusiasm. "Lord Klein, in light of your pioneering courage, I'll waive the transportation fee for you!"
Velin didn't even look at him. He simply emptied a heavy pouch of Golden Suns onto a wooden crate. The coins formed a small, dazzling mound that glittered in the light.
"Count it."
Cohen expertly swept the Golden Suns into his coin pouch. With business concluded, he didn't want to linger for a single moment longer. He gave an exaggerated aristocratic bow and departed in a hurry with his men and caravan, as if being chased by a ferocious beast.
The magic apprentice, Ryo, also left with the caravan. He had a long-term contract with them, and his mission here was complete.
Before he left, the impoverished young man gave Velin a deep bow, his eyes a mixture of awe and gratitude.
Velin just nodded, watching them disappear over the horizon.
From that moment, the plateau was completely isolated.
...
In the days that followed, the camp transformed into a strictly disciplined construction site.
Under Barrett's bellowed commands, the men mixed the raw materials into a black sludge that exuded a sickeningly sweet stench, which they then used to fill the trenches.
The roots of the vines would follow the trenches, allowing them to sprout more branches.
The core of the project, however, lay with Xiaolan and Velin.
"Keep your hands steady. Guide it, don't yank it!"
Velin demonstrated again, weaving the vines together like a two-ply cord and letting the smaller offshoots fill the tiny gaps between the main stems. It was a simplified structure modeled after bamboo segments, designed to increase strength and resilience.
Xiaolan clumsily attempted to weave two rapidly growing vines together.
Suddenly, a sharp leaf sliced a long, thin gash across the back of her hand. She recoiled with a HISS, tears welling in her eyes.
But she didn't back down. She immediately went back to her clumsy weaving.
Whenever it was Xiaolan's turn to rest, she would watch the bustling villagers in the distance, and the children who, despite their fear, still remembered to help their parents.
It reminded her of that night—of the parents who betrayed the village chief for their children's sake, of the boiled potato sprouts she had cooked herself. And then, her blood-streaked hands wouldn't hurt anymore.
For the first two days, she returned to her tent each day with her hands covered in cuts, so exhausted she felt like she would fall apart.
But she grew more determined with every setback. She went from being clumsy at first, to barely being able to keep up with the vines' growth, and finally to her hands darting through the dense leaves without a scratch.
Soon, as the vines branched out more and more, she began to direct the other women, relaying Velin's instructions in simpler terms.
She had all but become an extension of Velin's will.
A week later, when the last vine joined with the first, a star-shaped wall—roughly five meters high and two meters thick, and entirely pitch-black—completely encircled the camp. The wall's surface was studded with particles like chips of Obsidian, and countless razor-sharp leaves jutted out from its crevices, resembling a slumbering behemoth clad in blades.
The atmosphere in the camp changed. People caressed the cold, hard wall. Although some parts hadn't completely hardened yet, it brought an unprecedented sense of security.
「A few days later」
That sense of security was put to the test.
"Swamp Boars! Level 2 Magical Beasts!"
The mercenary on lookout shouted the warning. A Level 2 Magical Beast... that meant a single one required the close coordination of the entire Grey Wolf Squad to bring down without taking any casualties.
Velin opened his system to see what made a Level 2 Magical Beast special.
[Swamp Boar]
[Level: Level 2 Magical Beast]
[Bloodline: Yoda Battle Pig (Black Iron Tier) 19%, Long-Tusk Wild Boar (Golden Level) 5%, Mixed Bloodline 76%]
[Ability: Swift Charge]
[Comprehensive Evaluation: A Magical Beast of minor combat strength. Evolvable.]
When the news reached the people below, it stirred a wave of panic. Some screamed and tried to hide in their tents; others instinctively made a break for the main gate.
"Don't panic!" Barrett roared, but to little effect.
Old Walker stared, his lips trembling, at the dark shapes charging toward them.
However, in the next moment, all his thoughts came to a screeching halt.
The lead Swamp Boar slammed into the vine wall like a cannonball.
A sickening squelch echoed—not the violent crash he expected, but the sound of sharp blades slicing into flesh.
Thanks to its sound architectural design, the vine wall didn't move an inch. Instead, the sharp leaves covering it shredded the boar.
Blood and viscera spewed out. The boars behind it couldn't stop in time and crashed into the wall one after another, each one disemboweled without exception. They retreated, squealing in agony, leaving several corpses behind.
After a moment of stunned silence, the camp erupted into cheers that had been suppressed for half a month.
Old Walker staggered to the wall and reached out a trembling hand to touch its surface.
Only then did he realize that this creation defied the sixty-odd years of his life's experience.
A few more days passed. On an afternoon after repelling several more small attacks, the sky suddenly turned a leaden gray without any warning.
Fierce winds howled and a torrential rain began to fall. The climax of the Crying Moon was upon them.
As the rain intensified, floodwaters began to creep out from the Gray Sea Marsh, and the land around the camp slowly began to disappear under the rising water.
The roars from the depths of the Gray Sea Marsh also grew louder and louder, until a strange sound pierced through the curtain of rain.
It wasn't a roar.
It was... the sound of countless heavy objects dragging across mud.
SHHH... SHH-SHH... GRIND...
SHHH... SHH-SHH... GRIND...
The sound was continuous, swelling as it drew nearer, as if a giant serpent made of a mountain range was slowly awakening in the depths of the marsh and slithering toward the plateau.
The very earth began to tremble in time with that bizarre rhythm.
The color drained from Old Walker's wrinkled face. "This sound... it's their scales..."
He frantically found Velin and Barrett, who were discussing matters on the wall. "The swamp is flooding! It's forcing the big ones out!"
The panic was contagious. Barrett grabbed Old Walker. "What things!"
"Gray Swamp Giant Crocodiles!" Old Walker stammered. "The most powerful Magical Beasts in the swamp! It's impossible... why would they be migrating..."
Before he could finish, a colossal, moss-covered head slowly rose from the distant, dark curtain of rain.
The creature was about five meters long, and its huge, bright yellow eyes lit up in the darkness, staring across the downpour at Velin on the watchtower.
Word was sent back within the walls. All but the able-bodied were forcibly moved back to the tent area, where they shivered in terror at the old hunter's tales.
Velin, however, stood at the very top of the bastion's watchtower, letting the rain lash down on him. He gazed down below and calmly raised his hand.
Five brand-new steel-arm crossbows were mounted behind the battlements by Barrett and his Mercenaries.
Gleaming crossbow bolts were already aimed into the darkness, toward the source of that endless, scraping sound.
Velin felt no fear. On the contrary, he felt a faint thrill of excitement.
He was waiting.
Waiting for his test subjects to throw themselves against the masterpiece he had poured his entire fortune into creating.