Dawn broke slowly over Pe'cha's southern gate.
The sky was still pale, the sun just beginning to rise beyond the distant ridges, casting long shadows across the stone road. A thin mist lingered near the ground, drifting between wagon wheels and armored boots.
The southern gate was quieter than the northern one.
For a reason.
Beyond it—there were no towns, no farms, no friendly roads.
Only wilderness. Beasts and demihumans scattered all around.
Few tried to settle in the past but all perished.
Wagons lined up in rows, creaking softly as drivers checked their harnesses. Soldiers leaned against spears, some chatting, others sharpening blades with slow, steady strokes.
At the center of the preparation stood Eason Leonhart.
He held his cane loosely, yet his presence alone kept the movement organized.
"Ensure the rear convoy maintains a consistent interval," he said, voice smooth and composed. "Disorder, even at departure, often leads to complications later."
A soldier straightened immediately.
"Yes, sir!"
Eason's eyes moved across the gate, observing everything with quiet precision.
—
Not far from him, Shane stood beside his wagon.
Molly, the massive white rhinoceros, snorted softly as the butler fed her grass, gently brushing her hide.
Shane watched the road.
People were arriving.
One by one.
Maddy and Petra came first.
Maddy stretched her arms wide, letting out a long yawn.
"Morning, boss," she said. "Feels too early for war."
Petra stood beside her, already in full black armor. The massive scythe on her back rested as if it weighed nothing.
"Good morning," she added softly.
Maddy glanced around.
"Where's Ulon?" she asked. "He's usually the first one here, shouting at someone."
Shane shook his head.
"He'll come," he said. "You two rest first. Inside."
Maddy didn't argue.
"Wake me up if we die," she muttered, already climbing into the wagon.
Petra followed quietly.
—
A different kind of presence approached next.
Five older men.
Their steps were steady, heavy—not from age, but from experience. Their armor was worn, their weapons marked by countless battles.
At their front walked a man in silver armor, a lance resting across his back.
It was Orlane, the leader of the Brotherhood.
"Yo, young man," Orlane greeted, voice rough but lively. "Everything ready?"
"Good morning, old Orlane," Shane replied. "Everything is set."
Orlane grinned.
"Good. Wouldn't want to miss this one."
He glanced toward the southern horizon.
"Been hearing things about those goblins in Aegulus," he said. "Want to see if the stories are true."
A voice came from behind them—
"It is not merely a rumor, Mr. Orlane."
They turned.
Eason approached, calm as ever.
"Two of my finest men perished confronting that threat," he added.
Both Shane and Orlane greeted him at once.
"Good morning, former Duke Eason."
Eason inclined his head slightly.
"We depart in one hour," he said. "Our first encampment will be at field 03B. A rather… pleasant location, I am told."
Orlane nodded.
"Been there before," he said. "Between mountains and desert. There's a river too. Safe place. Not many beasts roam there."
Eason smiled faintly.
"How reassuring."
Their conversation was interrupted by commotion.
A loud burst of laughter cut through the calm.
Heads turned.
A group of subjugators arrived—noisy, energetic.
It was the Tatterhides Party.
And at the center—
Ulon.
"…and then it choked!" Ulon said loudly, reenacting with dramatic gestures. "Like this—!"
He grabbed his throat, coughing exaggeratedly.
"Ghk! Ghk! The wyrm couldn't handle the Slouch!"
The crowd laughed.
"And then," Ulon continued, "boom! Fell! Dead! Poisoned by bad taste!"
More laughter.
"The Slouch crawled out like a roasted chicken," he added. "Burned, missing limbs—still alive!"
Someone shouted, "That guy's not human!"
Ulon grinned.
"I'm telling you, even a Class S monster can't kill that man!"
Eason glanced at Shane.
"You have gained quite a reputation," he said. "The Sand Wyrm incident has traveled far and wide. Not only in Crowvale but also in Solrien and Peddleton. I'm not surprised if Hallosbel heard it too."
Shane shrugged slightly.
"It was luck," he said.
"Luck or not," Orlane added, "killing two at once isn't normal."
He looked around.
"Speaking of that Slouch… he coming?"
Shane shook his head.
"He said he's done dying for this year."
Orlane burst out laughing.
"Sounds like the Slouch I knew!"
—
Then—
Something changed.
The air shifted. A pressure—heavy and Cold.
Shane's expression tightened.
Eason smiled.
Soldiers straightened instantly, hands moving to weapons.
The laughter died.
From the edge of the road—
A figure appeared.
Alone.
Walking slowly.
Each step left behind a faint trail of black smoke.
Orlane narrowed his eyes.
"…Six-star warrior?" he muttered.
The figure drew closer.
A hood covered his face. Darkness seemed to cling to him, moving like a living thing.
Beneath the hood, where the face should be, was filled with endless darkness.
He stopped near Eason.
His voice was deep. Resonant.
"…Where should I ride?"
Eason answered calmly.
"With me," he said. "You stay here—or proceed ahead, if you prefer."
"I'll go first."
The figure turned without another word and walked toward the Keeper's wagon, smoke trailing behind him.
Silence followed.
Orlane let out a low breath.
"…You brought that?" he said. "Never thought you'd bring another powerful Keeper."
Eason adjusted his sleeve.
"He is not a Keeper," he said. "Merely… just a nobody."
Orlane shook his head.
"And you call him nobody?"
"If that's nobody," he muttered, "then we're insects."
Eason smiled faintly.
"You give him too much credit."
—
More figures arrived.
Shalotte, careful with each step.
Kiel, looking around with restless energy.
And—
Ulon, who was banking at the storytelling earlier, dragged someone along.
"Come on, don't act holy now," Ulon said.
Behind him walked a priest.
Maynard.
Calm and composed.
Shane raised a brow slightly.
"…You actually convinced him."
Ulon grinned.
"Told you I could."
Maynard inclined his head.
"I am merely here because it is necessary," he said.
Ulon leaned toward Shane.
"He said yes," he whispered loudly.
Shane sighed.
"…I heard."
—
The sun finally rose above the horizon.
Golden light spilled across the gate.
The massive doors creaked open.
Beyond them—
The wild.
Eason lifted his cane slightly.
"Move out."
The wagons began to roll.
One by one.
Into the south.