"It is already nightfall, and yet you still haven't found them? It's bad enough that they escaped the same day they were captured, but now, the Chief General must be pissed."
At this moment, General Stormwalker Specter was being reprimanded by another General, Suntaunter.
They were lurking in a secluded space, one of the small, destroyed buildings found within the remains of the tarnished, old city. Specter had a dejected expression on his face, while Suntaunter, a broad-shouldered man with golden hair and a beard like a flaming lion's mane, stared at him with mocking pity.
"That Mage relied on trickery to defeat me. It won't happen again." Stormwalker Specter replied.
"Sure, sure. I don't even think you'll get to see them any time soon, since many of the Lesser Kings are starting to wage war on the lands that the Crimson-Bladed King has rightfully claimed."
Red lightning began to zap from the back of Specter's hand.
"I'll kill them all, and prove my worth once again. I'll serve that mage's head on a platter for the Chief General so that none of you can underestimate me any longer."
Suntaunter scratched his beard as he looked upon Specter's face, which was writhing with rage.
"You're an interesting guy, you know that, right? Your only purpose is to serve as the Chief General's loyal hunting dog, and you're completely fine with that. Perhaps, you're thinking of finally gaining his favour someday and becoming a fellow Chief General equal to him and the others?"
Stormwalker Specter didn't reply.
"…So, you're just an ordinary hunting dog then? How pathetic. I thought you would at least have the guts to chase after a goal…"
Red lightning started to spark from the gemstone embedded in Specter's hand.
"You know the reason why the Chief General regards me so highly, despite me being just a hunting dog?" Specter asked.
"Because I am the strongest out of all the Generals he's brought with him on this mission. I am the one who wields the "Lightning Lance" in my left hand."
Suntaunter's eyes widened instantly, and as his eyes darted to the gemstone, it all began to make sense.
"The Lightning Lance?! One of the great weapons of the Crimson-Bladed King?! How do you have that?! I thought, with you being a Horned Elf and all, it would cause an unstable reaction within your body!"
Stormwalker Specter shrugged.
"A joke like you need not to know that. The only thing you need to do is help me regain my lost honour. I will slay the Lesser Kings that dare oppose the king, those two runaway idiots, and also the mage, one by one."
"Then, after all that is over, this land will only be ours to conquer. This land rightfully belongs to us, who have claimed it, and I'll be damned to let it escape from our palms under my watch."
"I, the 23rd General under the Chief General's command, will not return to a life of contemptuous eyes and disdainful stares, ever again."
…
"…"
"We've been hiding for a while now, and it's almost nightfall. Shouldn't we go and say hi or something?" William whispered to Sarah and Brewer.
Brewer nodded.
"Wait a second longer."
The three of them observed the group of five, and from observations that spanned at least 5 hours, they noticed that these people, two women and three men, had allied with each other with the idea of creating their faction, which is what they had learnt from some friendlier otherworlders. What's more, was that they were all experienced in their sort of way.
Soria, the woman with brown hair who wore it in a bun and carried a crossbow, was once a high-performance sprinter, though nobody knew how long ago that was now.
Duncan and Lukas, one blonde and the other black-haired, carried normal bows and were half-brothers. They had both learned how to hunt small animals from an early age because of their father, but he died a year before.
Sylvia, a young woman with short black hair and narrow, precise eyes, wielded a sword and also had a strange metal ring on her fingers. Brewer suspected that it was a "Relic", an item imbued with Mana.
The last one, Barrow, seemed to be the leader of them all, as he seemed the most comfortable and had the strongest body out of all of them. He had his spear by his side, and was, for some reason, shirtless and smirked constantly.
"Let's go," Brewer said, "I think I know how to involve ourselves in the Dungeon hunt with them. However, do not veer off course from what we're doing, or we will have to resort to… eviler methods."
The three of them stumbled through the bushes and branches towards the campfire that the five of them huddled around, and the first one to notice them, Sylvia, immediately sprang up and got into a defensive position in front of the fire.
"Who are you?!"
Sarah stepped forward and placed her hand on her heart.
"We are survivors, who barely managed to escape from the clutches of the Knights of Conquest! We seek help, and desperately, so please…!"
The five hunters stared at them with disgust and apprehension. The three of them did seem like they had escaped from a predicament, but they were filthy and covered in rags.
Truth be told, however, Brewer made sure they didn't change their clothes on purpose, to easily fool the hunters.
"…Dawning spirit," Sylvia uttered, as she pointed her hand at the three, "I will determine whether you are telling the truth, or lying."
Brewer himself was quite surprised when the ring on her finger shone with a green lustre, indicating that it was indeed a lie detector, which was extremely rare to find, especially after a few days. However, he didn't do anything brass, and neither did William and Sarah.
William nervously grinned as the ring's green lustre faded away, and there was no reaction from the ring again.
"…So, you're telling the truth."
"But, this doesn't mean you're trustworthy. You may sit with us, but just know that any sudden movements will force this blade to pierce your heart."
The rest of the hunters nodded, and Barrow stared at them with interest, especially as they listened and sat down without a word.
"Ugh, you three reek. I'll get you all some fresh clothes." Duncan said, heading into the tent.
"…Don't mind him, he's just a clean freak," Lukas said, "But anyway since you three are here and seem decently strong, enough to escape a faction's grasp, how about—"
Barrow grinned and interrupted Lukas.
"I hope you three know that there's been rumours about these woods recently. About a Monarch lurking around. An otherworlder with a special or noble bloodline. This man was uncovered as a high-ranking cultist serving a ritualistic organisation before that big flash of light happened. And, he escaped."
"The rumours say that he can create and modify similar-looking clones of himself using mud or clay."
Brewer's eyes widened, as he realised what, or who, this man was talking about.
"So… how can we be reassured that you aren't one of his modified clones? How can we be sure that man isn't one of you, or all of you altogether?"