The Wolves, each carrying a heavy bag, moved forward. At the head of the group, Seren also had a bag slung over her shoulder as she strode ahead. Three more bags were tied in a row to the saddle of the warhorse walking beside her.0

Might as well be fully geared-up soldiers.0

Trailing a bit behind, Ian walked with an indifferent expression. No one in his group was carrying any luggage—except for the black horse beside him, which had several bags strapped to its saddle. They didn’t need to, but still, Ian hadn’t bothered to untie the bags from the saddle either.0

After pushing himself too hard in riding the horse, swinging his hammer around, his whole body was aching and creaking. Nothing was broken—he’d be back to normal in a day or two—but whether they had that kind of time was another matter.0

Well, the Wolves are only coming with us as far as the outpost anyway. People who need rest should rest.0

Murmuring inwardly, Ian turned his head to the right. Beyond the ankle-deep waves of mist, distorted trees were scattered sparsely across the landscape. The tall, conifer-like trees grew denser the farther they stretched into the distance until everything vanished into an unnatural darkness even Ian couldn’t see through.0

The Shadowed Forest...0

As he stared into the darkness, the image of Inaskurgl from the vision flashed across his mind—especially those dangerously glowing ashen eyes.0

That thing was bound to be immensely...0