Chapter 83: Starting Again

Mercenaries, to put it bluntly, are the sort to die for money just as birds die for food.

But most of them die by accident—in other words, it’s a matter of misjudging risks, overestimating the range of problems their abilities can handle.

That’s what people call biting off more than you can chew.

The more seasoned the mercenary, the more they’ll stress the importance of “caution.”

Yet the mercenary before her was clearly the opposite kind.

Forget about caution; he was practically a rookie fresh out of the nest, not more than a few years in the business.

He thought too highly of his own skills, believed he could solve anything, and so far, everything really had gone his way. That was exactly why, in the end, he’d take a disastrous fall.

“Don’t underestimate the Blackwater Mire. Judging by your look, you don’t seem like an inexperienced mercenary, yet you seem completely ignorant of its dangers. That alone should put you on alert, shouldn’t it?”

Weisswood’s voice was edged with a metallic chill, like cold iron scraping across stone.

She strode a few steps up to the three of them, arms folded across her chest, wearing the expression of someone looking at lunatics.

“You mean to say, it’s so dangerous no mercenary dares set foot in it, which is why no one’s heard anything about it, right?”

Weiss paused, and replied with a courteous smile.

Lortissa’s gaze lingered on the female knight for only a moment before drifting away, as if she were just a rock at the roadside.

This dismissive attitude clearly provoked the prideful Imperial knight.

Weisswood’s frown tightened. She took a step forward and spoke more forcefully:

“I’m not joking, mercenary. You have no idea what that swamp really means.”

Her sharp gaze swept over Weiss, then Lortissa and Fia, carrying unconcealed contempt.

“You outsiders, do you think the Empire’s border is just some ordinary place? Do you think it’s just another swamp? The Blackwater Mire is a forbidden zone not because of a few troublesome Aberrations, but because the place itself is a living trap.

First, there’s the poisonous miasma. It’s not ordinary mist—it’s black, lingering disaster. Inhale a few breaths and your lungs start to rot. Ordinary anti-toxin measures are useless.

Then there’s the ground. There’s not a single safe path. What you step on might not be soil but corroded sludge. One misstep and it’s like you’ve entered hell—no chance of survival.

Her voice lowered, carrying the creepiness of someone telling a horror story.

“And then, there’s what lives inside. The Aberrations that inhabit the poison fog and rotting mud have long since adapted to it. They’re silent, and know how to use the terrain for ambush. There are creatures with venom our army medics can’t even begin to treat; if you’re bitten, you can only wait for death.”

Weisswood paused, as if savoring whatever fear she might find on the trio’s faces.

Unfortunately, she was disappointed.

Weiss simply listened quietly, his expression calm, as though hearing a tedious mission briefing.

Fia even let out a barely noticeable yawn, her gaze unfocused.

Only Lortissa looked unchanged—appearing to listen, but that was all, with no trace of emotion.

“Our Reconnaissance Knights have strict orders: patrol routes must keep at least five kilometers clear of the Blackwater Mire’s border. So, do you understand now?”

Weisswood’s patience was nearly gone.

These people were stubborn as stone, making her feel like a clown playing music to a herd of cattle.

Weiss finally responded, nodding his head.

“Mm, it does sound troublesome.”

His offhand comment nearly left Weisswood breathless.

Troublesome?

Just troublesome?

“Since you know all this, there’s still time to turn back.”

Weisswood managed to hold back her anger, laying down a final ultimatum.

But Weiss acted as if he didn’t even hear her. Instead, he stepped half a pace closer, looking at her sincerely.

“Thank you for your detailed explanation, Miss Knight. That information is really useful. So, which direction is it, exactly?”

Weisswood froze.

She stared at Weiss’s reasonably handsome young face, searching for any sign of a joke.

But there was none.

His eyes were so ordinary, it was as if he really was just asking for directions.

These people… were complete madmen.

Even Imperial Knights avoided it as if it were the plague, and even Lord Cheronka had repeatedly warned them about the dangers of the forbidden zone.

Yet these mercenaries would just march straight in?

Didn’t that make the Empire’s knights look like cowards compared to them?

“You—”

Weisswood choked, unable to get a word out for a moment.

A mix of anger and absurdity welled up inside her.

Weiss, however, paid no mind to her shifting moods.

For him, these so-called dangers probably all stemmed from the influence of the Aberrant Tide.

Now that the Soul-Devouring Archlord, the source of disaster, had been taken care of, the rest were just small fry.

All fear, at its root, was simply a matter of insufficient firepower.

Now he wasn’t walking alone—he had Tissa and Fia, both of whom had proven themselves with overwhelming strength. What was there to worry about?

As for the terrain, that was even less of a problem; if nothing else, he had more than enough tools at hand, and logistics support wasn’t an issue.

The only thing he needed now was a clue.

Seeing Weisswood fuming in silence, Weiss patiently asked again:

“So, it’s that way, right? About how far?”

Weisswood’s chest heaved, and at last, feeling she’d wasted her breath, she spun on her heel and—scowling with annoyance—jabbed a finger about thirty degrees to the left of the direction Weiss was pointing.

“That way!”

Her voice was cold and hard, squeezed through clenched teeth.

“Keep going in that direction, straight on, through the coniferous forest. When you see the land start to sink, follow the ravine into the valley. When the air smells of rot, just keep following it—you’ll find a dead end soon enough. Good luck, you reckless mercenaries.”

With that, she strode away without a backward glance, her retreat radiating “don’t bother me” and “no one’s going to collect your corpses.”

Weiss watched her go, rubbing his chin.

“She’s got quite the temper.”

He turned back to Lortissa and Fia, shrugging lightly.

“Well, at least we got directions. No time to lose—I want to get there before dark if possible.”

The three of them didn’t linger, turning to walk in the direction Weisswood had indicated.

Given the terrain and the fact that horses wouldn’t survive, they left their mounts back at camp, handing a few copper coins to Fanny to find someone to watch them.

Once out of the refugee camp’s bounds, the scenery rapidly turned bleak.

The path underfoot turned from a decently flat dirt road to a wild trail littered with stones and weeds.

The air grew colder and colder, and the wind moaned through the sparse trees.

After walking for about half an hour, not a sign of life could be seen around them—it was as silent as the Deadlands.

Fia walked quietly at Weiss’s side, her hand always on her sword hilt, constantly alert.

Though she trusted Weiss almost blindly—if he said there was no danger, then she believed it absolutely.

Still, rational concern couldn’t be entirely suppressed.

At last, she couldn’t hold back and sidled up to ask:

“Weiss.”

Weiss slowed his pace and tilted his head toward her.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“That Imperial knight just now… I think she made some good points. Even if wandering Aberrations aren’t a threat, the Blackwater Mire sounds huge. Where are we even supposed to look for traces?”

Lortissa also gave him a questioning look—she clearly had the same worry.

Weiss stopped, his expression still relaxed.

“It’s simple. Finding someone might not be easy right away, but clues aren’t just one kind. As long as we reach the place, we’ll manage.”