After breakfast.
Judy hugged her staff, rested her head on a log, curled up in her sleeping bag, drooling, sleeping like a little pig.
Eric lay on his back, unable to sleep.
Atai'er had a lantern by his side, tending to the bonfire in front of him.
"Can't sleep?" Atai'er asked.
Eric got up and glanced at the green lantern.
"What is that? It feels very dangerous."
"It's not dangerous. Inside is the soul of a Dragon Lich named Korgaron. It's very weak."
As Atai'er finished speaking, the flame of the green lantern flickered noticeably.
It looked a bit displeased.
Eric's eye twitched.
Dragon Lich, Korgaron.
No matter how he heard it, this thing didn't sound like it belonged with weakness.
"Is this incident considered over?"
Atai'er shook his head and said:
"No, it's only just begun, or rather, we've only seen a hint of it."
Eric sighed, and as he lay down, he casually asked:
"Oh, what happened?"
Then he heard Atai'er say:
"The Dragon Queen, Tiamat, the primary deity of the five-colored dragons, has been imprisoned in Avernus, the first layer of the Nine Hells."
"Now, the contract that imprisoned her is about to expire."
"She should be coming out of hell to seek revenge on the Dragon King Bahamut."
Eric suddenly sat up, looking at Atai'er in shock.
Huh?
No, you just said it like that?
Shouldn't you be mysterious, say that knowing is useless, and then keep being a riddle-master?
Eric said, bewildered:
"Is... is this something I should be hearing?"
Atai'er poked the bonfire on the ground and said:
"To save you some time, so you don't keep overthinking things all day."
Ah, this—
Is this not letting me overthink?
Eric's jaw dropped slightly, and he asked again:
"Is the problem big?"
"Continent-destroying level."
Eric: "..."
Numb.
I'm really fed up with this mouth of mine, why did I ask such a stupid question?
Atai'er said:
"Don't worry, this has nothing to do with you."
Eric sighed.
When such a massive disaster truly strikes, how can anyone escape it?
Eric felt that having strength himself was better than relying on anyone else.
"Teacher, please train me. I want strength."
Atai'er poked the bonfire and said:
"Go to sleep first. You're not even as tall as Judy right now. Ensure you get enough rest, develop normally, and then think about other things."
Tch.
Why is this teacher so chatty?
Eric turned to glance at Judy.
This girl was only two years older than him, but she was a full half-head taller than him.
Where to find milk? Eric really wanted to drink some right now.
—
The Duchy of Saxony incident was considered over.
Afterward, Atai'er took Eric and Judy back to Eric's village, boarded a traveling merchant's carriage, and embarked on the road to the Royal Capital.
What happened in the Duchy of Saxony needed to be reported to the King.
Judy also needed to be sent to her teacher.
And along the way, Atai'er had been training Eric.
In a flash—
Two months later.
Eric closed his eyes, sitting cross-legged in the carriage.
He was following Atai'er's guidance, communicating his magic with his fine iron short sword.
Through this training method, Eric could extend his senses to his weapon, gaining a new kind of intuition.
Judy watched Eric from the side.
Ever since Eric started training, he had little time to spend with her.
Judy understood Eric's determination to become stronger.
But she couldn't help but remember that adventurous night.
At that time, Eric had always stayed with her, encouraging her; he was so close.
Now, it was so boring.
Atai'er sat at the very back of the carriage.
He wore a large cloak, his vision obscured by the hood, and by his side was still that green lantern.
The lantern's light flickered, and those with excellent intuition would see the silhouette of a giant dragon within it.
The three were following a caravan.
They were heading to the Dark Swamp near the Royal Capital to return Judy to her teacher, Swamp Witch Alianna.
Everything was peaceful.
Until—
"Robbery! Leave all your money."
A clear voice rang out.
"Hey, I've seen plenty of bandits, but this is my first time seeing a female bandit."
A mercenary traveling with them scoffed, clenched his fists, and got off the carriage.
"Little lady, being a bandit isn't something a woman can do, unless you can handle ten men, any kind of handling."
"Hahahahaha."
"She's got a nice face, good material for a bandit's wife."
For a moment, laughter, whistles, and various vulgar words all burst forth.
Eric opened his eyes.
In such a noisy situation, cultivation was impossible.
When Judy saw Eric open his eyes, she quickly pulled out a small bottle from her small satchel.
Eric took it and took a sip.
He wiped the white residue from his lips and said:
"This milk must be watered down, it tastes like water."
The coachman said helplessly:
"All the cattle farmers went to become bandits. This milk you're drinking was even snuck out of a noble's mansion."
Eric sighed.
Although Eric, at his developing age, had grown a bit taller in these two months.
But Eric felt that if it weren't for this inferior milk, he would definitely have grown even taller.
The coachman didn't have Eric's petty thoughts.
He looked at the farce unfolding ahead and said in a deep voice:
"This woman doesn't look like a bandit; she looks like a noble lady. There are many people in the caravan, so I hope the leader takes it easy and doesn't stir up trouble."
Noble lady?
Eric glanced over.
Blonde hair, white shirt, riding breeches, small leather boots, and a longsword at her waist.
She was dressed similarly to Eric.
But the fabric of her clothes shone in the sunlight, with smooth textures, clearly expensive.
She was tall, but her body proportions didn't feel awkward.
Her body proportions indicated careful training and maintenance.
She certainly looked like a noble.
Eric took a sip of milk.
"Trash."
Just looking at that pretty, fair face, he knew she was just a pretty face with no substance.
Eric then looked at the woman's longsword.
It was a longsword with a gem-decorated hilt and winged handguards, and its scabbard was so flashy it could be an art piece.
He pursed his lips and Eric withdrew his gaze.
A flashy sword.
Eric felt that this woman would not be a match for the mercenary group leader.
Everyone thought so.
Even the mercenary group leader thought so.
So everyone was laughing.
The woman remained silent, arms crossed, looking at everyone with disdain.
Only after everyone had finished laughing did she say loudly:
"There have been at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, mercenaries passing through here. I've heard enough trash talk. If you have the guts, cut off my head. If not, leave your money and get lost."
With that, the woman drew her sword.
The leader was actually quite troubled by this situation.
If it were a real bandit, he would have already ended her life with a single sword stroke.
But this noble, it was fine to say some trash talk, but if he actually laid a hand on her, it would stir up a lot of trouble.
Just as the leader was in a dilemma.
The caravan owner poked his head out of the carriage, his expression cold, looked at the woman, and said:
"Throw her in the river. I'll take responsibility if anything happens."
The leader raised an eyebrow, drew his scimitar from his waist, and praised loudly:
"Boss is generous."
Then—
The leader had his pants pulled down and was thrown into the water.
The mercenary group members were furious.
"You woman, what did you do to our leader?"
"Bastard, let's all teach her a lesson together."
"Everyone, let's go!"
Afterward, there were screams, pleas for mercy, the sounds of pants being pulled down and belts being whipped, and the splashing sounds of people falling into the water like dumplings.
