With the order given, the High Priest took the lead, swiftly positioning the group of Pilgrims.
One by one, their Staffs raised high above their heads, tracing invisible arcs through the air, beginning to guide the Magic Array.
Eerie blue patterns emerged from the ground, intertwining into an intricate design.
Under the glow of magical light, Weiss was emotionlessly led by two accompanying magicians to the center of the array.
Watching the shadow being slowly swallowed by the unfolding totem,
Nortern, standing on higher ground, allowed a faint, contented smile to curl at the corner of his lips.
At that moment, the knight squad’s adjutant hurried up the hillside, dropping to one knee before Nortern and bowing his head to report:
“Young master, everything is ready.”
“Good, proceed as planned.”
His voice was flat, but subtly tinged with a hint of pleasure.
Nortern’s thoughts were simple.
The operation to hunt down the source of the disaster was fraught with unpredictable dangers.
The sacrifice of mercenaries serving as bait was hardly surprising.
Moreover, this mercenary named Weiss had “volunteered” to act as bait.
No matter what accidents happened, no one could be blamed.
At most, a eulogy honoring such a noble sacrifice would be delivered afterward.
Weiss stood alone at the center of the array, the magical totems and seals beneath his feet faintly glowing.
It looked no different from what he’d seen before; he couldn’t understand a single one of those complex patterns.
Within the dim light, a sinister aura slowly spread.
At the center of the array, an invisible wave suddenly rippled outward.
Like a single drop of blood sinking into an endless sea,
it sent a chilling oppression to everyone present, a coldness crawling up their spines.
“—I see them, the Blighted!”
Below the hillside, the battle-hardened sergeant guarding the first line bellowed angrily.
This burly warrior, his face marked by gruesome scars, swung his heavy great axe, raising it in readiness.
“All units, clear out those fodder troops! Follow me!”
The first wave of Blighted rushing in were all beast-shaped zombies.
It was still barely possible to recognize that most had originally been wild wolves living in these woods.
Affected by the Blight’s breath, not only is the essence of things twisted, but various bizarre mutations also arise.
Weiss observed the battle from afar, no longer surprised by this.
Recalling the earlier encounter with the Soul-Devouring Overlord, since the source of the disaster was a similar malicious spirit collective,
it made sense that these Blighted would evolve toward the undead zombie type under its influence.
The Magic Array spreading the Blight’s breath was already in place when the High Priest approached Weiss.
He appeared as a gaunt middle-aged man, looking as if he subsisted solely on magical energy, his large hood obscuring most of his face.
“Mr. Weiss, please withdraw further back.”
His voice was soft and delicate, as if squeezed from deep within his throat.
“All these Blighted are drawn by the Blight emanating from you. To ensure the Soul-Devouring Overlord takes the bait, please move a bit further back. The main force of the hunting squad is also standing by at the rear pocket formation.”
According to the plan, the border troops must lure the Soul-Devouring Overlord completely within the kingdom’s boundaries before striking.
This would avoid unnecessary border conflicts, preventing the Empire from having any excuse to interfere, and guard against possible sneak attacks.
—Though Weiss thought that was probably overcautious.
Still, to be safe, drawing the source into the kingdom’s territory was the core goal of this bait hunt and decapitation operation.
Eager to cooperate and finish early, Weiss nodded and prepared to retreat.
Together with Mofiana, who had been assigned to accompany him, they both mounted the horses prepared in advance.
Spurring their mounts, they began moving toward the rear of the formation.
Although not far—roughly a kilometer or two—the path was separated by a pitch-black forest.
The mountainous terrain at night was rugged and would somewhat hinder their speed; some areas were even difficult to ride through, forcing them to lead their horses on foot.
Dense woods are said to muffle sound to some degree,
but—
“Isn’t it a bit too quiet?”
Crossing a small ridge while leading his horse, Weiss instinctively glanced back.
“Are the Blighted all dealt with? Why is it suddenly silent?”
Mofiana, following behind him, seemed unsurprised.
The female knight gave no response; the dark forest shadows completely concealed her thoughtful, silent expression.
—Perhaps she was just nervous?
Weiss didn’t dwell on it. After all, the main force’s formation lay just beyond this forest; passing through it should bring them to Lortisa and the others.
Just as he turned back to continue forward, the horses they were leading suddenly let out piercing screams, panicked and violently pulling free of their reins.
“—Hey?”
Weiss wanted to call out to stop them, but before either horse could even take a few steps, their forms abruptly vanished into thin air.
Mofiana froze as well.
Yet she instinctively drew the longsword at her waist, adopting a defensive stance.
“W-what’s going on?!”
“Most likely—”
Weiss took a deep breath, his calm returning.
“That thing has arrived.”
He saw clearly.
The horses hadn’t vanished into thin air; instead, a thick black mist instantly enveloped—no, swallowed—them.
The surrounding dense shrubs and trees withered and curled the moment they touched the mist.
Entire patches of vegetation, as if doused in a strong acid, rapidly dehydrated and carbonized, turning into chaotic ash.
Mofiana’s hands trembled on her sword.
As a knight, especially one with combat experience, she knew what she could handle and what she couldn’t.
The scene before her was absolutely not something she could fight with just that sword.
In that moment, one thought surged through her mind.
Run.
Orders to protect were just a pretense.
The real instruction from the knight captain was to ensure Weiss died in this mission.
She had thought she might have to act as the scapegoat, perhaps stabbing Weiss in the back during the retreat.
But now, it seemed there was no need to intervene at all.
With such a terrifying threat right here in the forest, she couldn’t imagine how a mere mercenary could escape alive.
As her thoughts wavered, a sudden, violent force slammed into her back.
“Move aside!”
Weiss’s urgent shout reached her ears just after the impact.
Mofiana lost her balance and fell hard to the ground.
By the time she recovered and struggled to lift her head, a jet-black arm formed from mist swept past with a deathly howl.
At her original standing spot, it left a deep slash, tearing through the very air itself.