Morning came and the three people who were bound and locked inside the carriage still didn't regain their consciousness. How about the coachman who has nothing to do with the abductors' mission and was not on the list was left behind on their way while recovering their horses.
If the coachman survived, then it does mean that he was lucky. But the chances of him being alive was very low.
With monsters and mutated animals alike lurking in the forest that very night, the coachman needed a hundred vials of luck potion for him to escape such predicament.
That being the case, neither he lives nor dies does not necessarily amount them anything at all. Besides, the coachman was just an ordinary man, so with a zero doubt, he will surely die.
"Damn. I'm fuckin' exhausted. Hey, Mister, are we there yet?"
Puck, a Mercenary who became Hajin's replacement, impatiently inquired. He was new, the last one who joined the group, so of course, he knew much less compared to the others, and given just the basics.
What also the leader of their group had said was to deliver the people they had abducted to the second group who were waiting for them at the Southern part of this dangerous place.
Then after that, mission complete. That was all. Too simple, isn't it?
However, in this seemingly simple mission, people were divided into three groups, which Puck find it very strange.
Group A, which were them, was responsible for abduction and getting rid of even the slightest of evidence and traces.
Group B, was the one who were responsible for, no doubt, torture and killings. He could easily surmise it that way since he was no amateur to such thing.
Then for Group C, it was probably for cleanup, it could also be for backup if some unexpected things were to happen.
"Stop asking occasionally, brat. Just continue moving, and we will get there before we know it."
Darwin, the leader of the group and also the one who was assigned to look after Puck since the brat looks like an idiot who can easily commit mistakes, unhurriedly answered as they continued to trotted forward with their horses.
Even though they were used on walking and running, riding horses and other transportational means were still preferable and convenient to use.
Let alone they've been traveling for about twelve to fourteen hours already.
With only short naps, few bites of food to tamed their rumbling bellies, and a sip of water to quenched their thirst, as a Mercenary who prioritizes their own gains, they would never forget to take good care of their selves in any way possible.
Eat, if there are foods to eat. Anything will do so long as it was edible.
Drink, if there are things to drink. So long as it wasn't poisonous, anything would do.
And sleep, even if it was only for a few minutes, a nap wouldn't be that bad.
Grabbing anything to improved their constitution in the middle of any mission is a must that each of the Mercenaries could not possibly neglect.
With their lives exposed in a higher level of danger compared to those Adventurers who had Guilds to support them from their backs, they had to pull any cards they have had under their sleeves in any given moment of needs.
If they die, all of their hard work will be in vain. What's make it more unfortunate was that not even a single copper could be sent to their families if they died in the middle of their missions.
Added to that, the possibility of being robbed by their fellow Mercenaries who did the mission with them and happens to make it out alive was practically as high as the sky.
That was how cruel being a Mercenary was. Not very likely of those Adventurers who had incentives and benefits from their respective Guilds.
Alas, how could life be so unfair?
"I just want this mission to be done already. I knew you also felt the same way, Mister. So can't you just tell if we are almost there or not?"
With a simple mission with less danger whatsoever, just how could they possibly let such opportunity to slip by and drag the time any longer? The reward after completing the mission was also something that wouldn't let them in any disadvantages at all. It was a handsome amount compared to the work they did.
An easy money, in short.
Being part of a mission as easy as their current one was something that was hardly had to come. Nevertheless, the Mercenaries who got part of Group A were undoubtedly lucky bastards compared to the remaining two groups since one wouldn't know if when was a mishap might pop out.
"Aiya, this little shit. Just keep your damn mouth shut, will you? I'm fucking saving energy here. Talking shit to you time and time again was tiring the hell out of me. Really. How many more fucking times do you have to ask the same question, hm? Can't you just silently wait like others did? Fuck. Youngsters these days."
Snapped, Darwin's black side released. His benign smile and gentle sounding voice with a touch of 'sweet' curses was definitely screaming danger.
Truthfully, he was no longer young. He was in his late 50s and very soon will step his feet forward of being sixty. Even though his body's constitution was rather better than normal men his age, a certain fact that his body is getting older and weaker was something Darwin could not control and deny. Even his mood wasn't like in his younger days. It also shortens his once fair amount of patience.
It really wasn't comfortable being old.
"Fine, fine! Tsk. I just was asking, you know!"
Seeing the old man started to get mad for real, Puck had no choice but keep his damn mouth shut and looked straight ahead with a deep frown on his young face.
He remembered that the first time he met Darwin, he called him grandpa just out of respect. But on a contrary, he did not expect that it will offend the old man instead.
What follows afterward frightened him and almost made himself pee on the spot.
The look on Darwin's wrinkled face that time was very amiable, so easy to associate with. Yet, an eerie Aura enough to suffocate him to death was leaking, directly and solely wrapping him from head to toe.
He felt like he almost died!
So, learned from his previous mistake, he became more careful whenever he was dealing with the old man. Carefully measuring where his bottom line at, so he knew when to stop.
'After this, I will never accept any mission where this damn old man was at!'
The rest of the journey then remained silent, only the clattering of horses' hooves against the ground could be heard. Since Puck never asked questions again, Darwin was very grateful and could now mentally relax. The other men also did not dare to open their mouth in a meaningless inquiry or other stuff.
Hours passed by, thankfully Darwin announced that they had finally arrived, yet there were no people present. Though wondering, the Mercenaries still guided their horses forward following him in front, and that was when they all felt a cold and heavy pressure pressing against them.
The poor horses wobbled and almost fainted.
Fortunately, the uncomfortable feeling disappears almost immediately as if it was only their imagination. And what they saw afterward in a once empty space, are people, undoubtedly the Mercenaries of the second group.
With them now delivering the captives, it only meant that their mission was almost complete.
"They had a Level 3, mage-type awakened. That barrier just now was strong. The pressure was no joke. Hey, kid, you okay?"
When a person got Manna, it was a tacit understanding that each person specializes in only one Element, then cultivate it to solely made them theirs. Manna, as a very complex Energy, was divided into many categories.
A mage-type was one of that.
It also depends on their categories of how many levels each type had. As for example, a Level 3, mage-type could fight at least toe-to-toe with the same level of a melee-type, though winning was not really clear since people who cultivate this type of category are more formidable in strength, endurance, agility and reflexes, which are the mage-type normally lacking.
If it's a range-type, even if that person was twice its level, it was a win, simply because of the Mages' range of magic spells.
Mage-types' magics and spells has a wider coverage than the range-types. Though they are a bit better in strength and endurance, with agility and reflexes that did not shy away from that of a melee-type, once the Mages lock them in place in a distance far from their opponent and released a spell, that's game over.
Frustratingly for mage-type though, cultivating a quasi-Healer among them was an arduous task, though not really impossible. Since Mages has an advantage because of the abundance of magic flow from their very veins, setting apart a room just for healing was a dream come true to every mage-type.
But a Mage and a Healer are like heaven and earth. A mage-type, quasi-Healer obviously far inferior in healing compared to Healers themselves. The evident and simple explanation is the kind of Energy they've got.
Manna is Manna. And Divine is Divine.
Their name itself are enough comparison.
As for the level of each type, obviously it varies. But for mage-type, the maximum is 12. So the greater the number of the level, the stronger.
However, either it was a quasi-Healer or Healer, having someone like that in a Mercenary group was like a rain in a desert. Yet now, Darwin and the other Mercenaries in his group could clearly see and felt a mage-type, quasi-Healer in the opposite group.
That person was clad in a pale yellow robe, which was evidently different from his group. Let alone to all of them. While he and the rest were dressed in black, like that of an assassin, that person was the only one who dressed in yellow, looking holy.
Just how dangerous that Group B's mission for them needing a mage-type, quasi-Healer?
"...That pressure just now almost chocked me, damn! Haa... Haa... I am just a Level 5, range-type! That person should apply some consideration when he made that fucking barrier!"
The young Mercenary's face was so pale that he almost looked like a ghost. If, by any chance, the barrier was a bit more powerful than that, even if it's just for a moment, the suffocation was enough to kill him, who was weaker than the others and had a rather low level of elemental resistance.
The invisible barrier was made of still, quiet wind, which obviously a Wind Element. As a range-type, it was an Element that better suited him as an Archer, since wind was a close companion to someone like him. But a story could easily divert and change if that wind was against him, just like what had happened.
The level also doesn't add up, obviously because his level was still low.
No. It was few levels lower.
Frustrated, Puck was livid, not just because of his current state but also to the things that happened these past few weeks. He reminded himself again to climb a level as soon as possible to never repeat such threatening thing in the future.
He holds his fate, so of course, he also holds his own growth and life. No one has the right to control him, even that so-called Fortuneteller who foretold his demise and made him had nightmares every single night that unable him to sleep well.
He refused to die young, and will never bend to anything that only wishes him harm.
"Kid, relax. Being mad wouldn't change anything."
Rubbing salt into the wound, the young Mercenary groaned and bit his lower lip, hands tightly clenched the rein that causes trembles because of too much exertion.
He was unable to refute because what Darwin, that old man had said, was the truth that slapped him on his face.
Even if he fumes and throw verbal assault and dissatisfaction, no one will surely care, and the backlash would only bounce back at him, embarrassing him in the end.
What's more, Puck is like a sprout to everyone present, and he himself knew that. If it weren't for Hajin who left his spot and for that man to personally recommend him, he wouldn't be where he was now and mixed with these people.
"...Damn it!"
With a frustrated cuss, Puck drooped then followed behind Darwin, approaching the opposite group with the rest of the Mercenaries. When they neared and both side faces each other, everyone gotten off of their horses, various of expressions and reactions collided in the air.
There were ones who had a passive look and only nod as a greeting. There's also these easy-going ones who warmly greeted others. Then these 'if you don't talk to me, I won't bother speaking' individuals.
While these veterans showcasing their social skills and others just chilling or minding their own business, the standing leader of each group separated themselves with everyone and discusses matters that may or may not be related to the mission.
On the other side, while various scenes playing right in front the young Mercenary's eyes, Puck, a sprout, felt a certain distance because of the atmosphere.
He was suddenly unable to know what to do or how to act. And when his eyes met with someone, he can't bring himself to smile at them like what he usually does. Fortunately, he had managed to show some respect by slightly bowing at them.
That kind situation repeated few more times until the leaders came back and gather their attentions.
Puck had never felt so out of place and always finds a way a to fit in, so what had happened took damage to young Mercenary. Added with a lot of negative things keeps on happening to him since that fortunetelling incident, he was indeed having a rough time. He was pushed and set aside in some occasions, but that was not enough to break him.
Demise? He will never let it ruin him.