Pics, the mercenary captain of Abiot, looked at Obern with sharp eyes.
"Impossible?"
"Yes, it's impossible. The area around the Fourth Base Camp has long been a land of death. I don't know how much you know, but whatever you imagine, it will be worse."
His tone was unwavering.
Obern spoke with a firmness that seemed like he had been reciting a script for a long time.
Pics looked at Obern for a moment.
It was then that his white eyebrows twitched.
"Even worse than you imagined... So, are you telling me that it's a place to die and that we shouldn't go there?"
Pics was a courteous man, unlike what one might expect from a mercenary.
Even when dealing with the much younger Obern, his voice was not intimidating but rather considerate.
This was not because Obern was a mage.
Pics was simply that kind of man...
"..."
From his silent, intense gaze, an unhidden anger could be seen.
What was he angry about?
"..."
Obern paused, momentarily taken aback by the indiscernible emotion.
Even though he was treated as a mere ronin mercenary, the anger of a seasoned mercenary who had lived by the sword for decades was intense.
However, Obern did not seem willing to back down.
'It's a meaningless sacrifice.'
Even if Pics was a seasoned mercenary who had seen it all in the Hameln Great Forest, he ultimately never became a knight.
Among them, there were certainly those who surpassed knights in skill...
Especially someone like Pics, a seasoned mercenary, would be a formidable opponent, even compared to knights.
In the end, it would be no different from a dog's death.
'That place... Yes, it is.'
It's literally hell.
Even if, by some chance, Pics had reached the level of a Master Knight, it would be the same.
Regardless of his level.
The other mercenaries following him would only be crawling into a place to die.
Therefore, the answer was...
"Yes, that's correct."
A resolute refusal.
Obern spoke and bit his lower lip firmly.
Pics' eyes, which flickered with anger, how would that anger be expressed?
It was always a painful experience to face someone's negative emotions.
No, it was even frightening.
But Obern resolved to endure it all.
Unwavering conviction.
What was truly terrifying was not the malicious emotions from others but the collapse of one's own conviction.
However, why?
"Young mage."
The voice that came from Pics was soft.
But this was only on the surface.
The emotion beneath the softness was as hot as a boiling furnace.
Pics exhaled his hot breath right then.
"Exactly... What do you see us as?"
"..."
A growling voice, like a wounded beast.
"I've heard about you long ago. A disciple of the old war mage... The young mercenaries who like to brag say that you are a genius comparable to the young master of Blando."
"That's... true..."
"No, it's not true. How could mercenaries know the world of mages? But, did you get enchanted by such nonsense? Did you start to believe that you are such a great being?"
"What do you mean..."
Pics suddenly stood up at that moment.
Bang!
Did he open his ether?
An overwhelming aura burst forth, and the tent swayed.
The furniture inside the tent groaned, and the candlelight went out at that moment.
However, the tent did not become dark.
Sssss—
The ether emitted from Pics' body made it even brighter than before.
In that moment,
"A place to die? Arrogant. Who decides that?"
Pics' voice continued.
"Tell me, is the most miserable thing for you death? If so, why are you walking into the Fourth Base Camp on your own? Do you believe in your teacher?"
"That's... not it."
It's not because he believed in his teacher that he wanted to go to the Fourth Base Camp.
It's just—
"There's a monstrosity that needs to be sealed. It's because of Destrue that my life or death is not important."
"Why does Destrue need to be sealed?"
"Because if it awakens... many people will die..."
For the greater good.
That's the reason.
Pics burst into laughter at that moment.
"Hahaha! I've never seen such an arrogant brat!"
As if mocking or unable to bear the absurdity.
However, why?
Why did his laughter seem self-deprecating?
'...'
Aster looked at him with a disinterested gaze but could read the emotions within.
"Do you think we, the mercenaries of the Great Forest, are fools who beg for your help?"
"..."
"Or do you think you are such a great being? Answer me, you blood clot mage."
Obern did not answer. No, he could not answer.
Pics, too, did not seem to expect an answer, as he pointed at Obern with his rough finger and continued.
"I've lived by the sword until today. You might see me as a lowly swordsman, but we have things to protect and areas we will never compromise on. But..."
"..."
"What right do you have? A place to die? Nonsense. If you say so, should we just sit back and believe in you and your teacher? I had high hopes for you, a disciple of Reheim... tsk."
Pics turned around and left.
Obern could only watch Pics' back with trembling eyes.
The broad back, for some reason, looked pitiful.
'Ah!'
Only then did Obern realize what he had done wrong.
Even a mute beast would try to protect its territory when threatened.
Humans are more complex, but Pics was the leader of a group trying to protect their territory.
He was, in every sense, a chief.
But his words...
'I was overstepping my bounds.'
Unfounded sympathy.
'Am I better, and they are not? Ah! In the end, I was looking down on them!'
Even though he said he would protect, perhaps there was a hint of a superior attitude mixed in.
The anger in Pics' eyes was because of that.
Until the moment Pics left the tent,
Obern could not say anything.
It felt like his hidden flaws had been exposed, leaving him feeling ashamed and exposed.
In the dark tent.
Aster's voice came then.
"Since the light is out... let's sleep."
"..., Mage sir. The atmosphere is..."
Riley cautiously spoke, but Aster, unconcerned, sprawled out on the bed.
"Then, stay up all night. I'm going to sleep."
"..."
Riley closed his mouth at the calm voice.
After a moment,
With eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked at Obern.
'Ugh.'
The leader of the group was that annoying mage, but Obern was also a significant presence.
However, with such a gloomy mood, it was impossible not to notice.
But.
"Then, I'll..."
Riley quietly crawled into the remaining bed.
For reference,
There were only two beds in the tent.
* * *
In the early morning, when everyone was asleep.
Aster quietly got up from his bed.
'My body... is definitely much lighter.'
Despite only a few hours of sleep, his lethargy was almost gone.
With this, a single round of breathing exercises would be enough to shake off all the lethargy.
It was a faster recovery than Obern had expected.
However,
"Tsk, foolish brat."
Aster glanced at Obern, who was curled up in a makeshift bed made of leather, and then laid him down on the bed before leaving the tent.
Chirp— chirp—
The First Base Camp, where only the sound of crickets occasionally echoed.
Aster, with eyes that could pierce through the darkness, entered the largest tent in the base camp.
The owner of the tent was still awake and tilted his head at Aster's visit.
"...Hmm? What brings you here?"
"Nothing much. Rather, let's sit and talk."
As if the roles were reversed, Aster naturally pulled a chair and took over the table.
Pics, the owner of the tent, stared at him.
"You look young... but you're quite shameless."
"How old are you?"
"I'll be fifty next year."
"I was fifty last year."
"...You're crazy."
"First time I've heard that."
"..."
Pics gave up on continuing the conversation on that topic.
Even with his face covered, the exposed skin clearly showed he was much younger.
How could he be so shameless?
'He's practically crazy.'
But since there were many crazy people among mercenaries, Pics quickly adapted.
However, that aside,
"What brings you here?"
"Well, I came to ask you what you're going to do."
"What do you mean?"
"About going to the Fourth Base Camp."
"..."
Pics did not answer and looked down at the table.
The table was covered with a map of the Hameln Great Forest, with fresh ink marks clearly visible.
Though he did not answer,
'He must have been planning to go to the Fourth Base Camp somehow.'
"Hey, sir. Why don't you just go with us?"
"..."
"Surely, you're not so easily swayed by a young brat's words. If you're going anyway, wouldn't it be better to go together?"
"..."
"Why? Isn't the decision-maker that mage?"
"He's just a figurehead."
Aster was the one who actually made the decisions for the group.
And if asked 'why'...
Aster smiled and looked at Pics.
Of course, the smile was hidden behind the mask.
"That brat might not know the ways of the world, but I do."
When Obern expressed his anger earlier.
The ether emanating from his entire body!
'Such a level of strength is rare even among knights.'
Did he read that?
"You're trying to use our people as cannon fodder."
"The expression is a bit harsh, but it's not wrong. In these times, why refuse help? Even dragging in those who are running away would be insufficient."
"Hmm..."
Pics leaned back in his chair.
This chair was large enough to support his massive frame.
After a moment,
"Is this a request?"
"Hey, sir. If we're offering to help, what more do you want?"
"An escape route."
"An escape route?"
Pics nodded.
"Only the old ones will go to the Fourth Base Camp. The young ones will be evacuated outside the Hameln Great Forest."
"But you were just calling me arrogant?"
"We can't cut off the lineage of Abiot. Who do you think is making the old ones crawl into a place to die?"
"For the young ones? Quite touching."
"Touching? We're desperate."
Pics took a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a match, and soon the room was filled with a pungent smoke.
"The path to the Fourth Base Camp, we can find it somehow. We have our own pathfinders."
"But?"
"Only, we don't know the way out. Our pathfinders are only decent at best."
"So, you mean..."
"Riley. I know that brat well. Regardless of his character, he's the best pathfinder in the Hameln Great Forest. Lend him to us."
Pics exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and looked at the masked young man.
This was the reason Pics had sought out the group in the first place.
'Even if we can find the way somehow... it's still a risky proposition.'
Then, the appearance of the mage.
The mage's firepower could make up for the lack of pathfinding skills.
So,
"Are you suggesting we swap pathfinders? Your side's pathfinder stays with us, and you guide us?"
"Yes, that's the idea."
"Is it really necessary? It's not that hard to get out of the perimeter. Why not just use your side's pathfinder?"
Aster tilted his head.
But Pics did the same.
"..., Didn't you see it on the way here?"
"See what?"
"Isn't the Swamp Lord in the marsh?"
"Our pathfinder isn't skilled enough to find a way through the marsh. Especially at this time of year."
If it weren't for the Swamp Lord, they would have already evacuated the young ones and headed to the Fourth Base Camp.
But due to the damned Swamp Lord, Abiot's pathfinders were out exploring a way around the marsh.
They were stuck because of that.
But then,
"What, so it's solved?"
"..."
Aster spoke casually.
The words that followed were something Pics could not believe even after hearing them.
"How do you think we got to the First Base Camp? If we had gone around the marsh, we would have gone to the Third Base Camp."
"That's..."
Thinking about it, that was true.
How did they get to the First Base Camp?
The marsh was guarded by the Swamp Lord.
"..., You don't mean. The Swamp Lord has left?"
"No?"
"..., Then?"
"Ah, it did leave."
Aster scratched his ear and pointed a straight finger at the sky.
"Up there."
"..., What?"
"Ah, geez. Sir, you don't understand. It left by the sky. So..."