CHAPTER 93: DEPARTURE

The sun had already climbed high, its light filtering through thick branches as the caravan rolled down a narrow forest path. Birds darted between trees, their songs drowned out by the creak of carriage wheels and the steady clop of hooves.

Hours had passed since their departure from the city.

The rhythmic motion of the carriage — and the sheer monotony of the road — had lulled even adventurers into a lazy calm.

Oliver leaned against the side of the second carriage, arms folded, half-asleep but still vaguely aware of the world around him. Across from him, Ariana sat slumped, her staff resting against her shoulder as she dozed, her lips parting slightly with each slow breath.

Isolde sat near the window, her eyes half-lidded — not sleeping, but clearly relaxed, chin propped on one hand as she watched the forest slide by.

The first few hours had been uneventful, save for the occasional bump of the wheels. But the peace didn’t last long.

An hour or so into their journey, the caravan had been met with its first disturbance — a small group of bandits who must’ve mistaken the convoy for a noble merchant line.

They came screaming out from the trees — crude armor, mismatched swords, and overconfidence.

Oliver had barely stirred before the knights reacted.

"Formation!" Ronald’s voice bellowed from the front, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.

The dozen knights responded like clockwork — shields raised, spears braced, horses stamping in unison. The bandits froze when they realized what they were up against, but by then it was already too late.

In less than a minute, the forest road was painted red. The smell of blood mixed with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil. The few survivors fled screaming into the woods.

"Pathetic," one of the knights muttered, wiping his blade on a dead man’s tunic.

Ronald didn’t even look back. "Dispose of the bodies. We move."

Then came another nuisance — a pack of horned wolves drawn by the scent of blood.

The knights handled them just as swiftly; spears flashed, swords swung, and the growls turned to whimpers.

Oliver had watched through the carriage window, more out of curiosity than concern.

By the time they cleared the bodies and resumed the road, even Isolde was forced to admit the knights were competent.

"Well," she said, stretching her arms behind her head, "it seems we’re not needed for now."

Oliver yawned. "Can’t say I’m disappointed."

"Rest while you can," Isolde said, leaning back against the carriage seat. "It’s always calmest before nightfall."

"Got it," Oliver murmured, already closing his eyes.

Ariana hesitated for a moment before following suit. Within minutes, the steady breathing of the two filled the carriage.

Isolde cast one last glance outside — at Ronald riding ahead, and at the carriage before them where their mysterious employer, the masked girl, sat silently behind curtained windows.

Neither had spoken a word since they left the city.

"Strange," she muttered under her breath, fingers drumming idly on the windowsill. "For people with this level of... was there any need of hiring adventurers?"

Her words went unanswered.

The road stretched on, the forest grew thicker, and as the sun began to dip, the shadows under the trees grew longer — dark and heavy.

The journey was just beginning.

*****

The caravan creaked deeper into the forest, the light dimming as the canopy thickened overhead. Dusk bled into shadow, and the rhythmic sound of hooves on dirt faded into an uneasy silence.

At first, it was just the hum of insects and the rustle of leaves. Then came something else — low grumbles and muttered voices from the knights riding near the rear.

"Hey," one of them whispered, glancing toward the second carriage. "Why are they sitting comfortably inside while we’re out here sweating and fighting every damn thing that moves?"

"Yeah," another said with a snort. "Aren’t they supposed to be adventurers? We’ve handled every bandit and beast since morning!"

A third knight spat on the ground. "They’re freeloaders, that’s what they are. Probably some rookies trying to milk coin off noble work."

Even though Ronald had warned them earlier not to cause trouble with the hired adventurers, discontent was clearly brewing.

"Whatever Captain said," one of them muttered, "shouldn’t we at least verify

their strength? What if they’re just con artists?"

The murmuring grew until one of the braver knights — a tall man with a scar over his cheek — trotted forward. He stopped beside Ronald’s horse.

"Captain, I’d like a word."

Ronald turned his head slightly, voice cold. "Huh? Verify what?"

The knight cleared his throat, lowering his tone in a show of respect. "With all due respect, sir... as my lady’s knight, I’m honored to be part of this mission. But I fail to see the point of hiring these... adventurers. They haven’t even stepped out of their carriage once since we left the city."

"Yeah," another added from behind. "If they’re supposed to protect the lady, shouldn’t we at least see what they can do?"

Ronald’s eyes narrowed behind his hood. His reply was calm — but carried a dangerous weight.

"You don’t have to concern yourself with that," he said evenly. "Focus on your post. I’ll deal with what needs dealing."

The knights exchanged uneasy glances.

"But, Captain—"

"That’s an order," Ronald said, his tone sharp as a drawn blade.

They fell silent, bowing their heads. "...Understood."

As they returned to their positions, Oliver — who had been resting with his eyes closed — cracked one open. A faint grin tugged at his lips.

’So they’re getting restless, huh...’ he thought, stretching his arms behind his head. ’Guess it’s time to move a little.’

The caravan rolled on, and soon the forest swallowed what little light remained. The sound of crickets turned erratic, then stopped altogether. A cold breeze brushed through the leaves.

Isolde opened one eye. "It’s getting dark. Stay alert."

And then — the horses neighed violently, rearing back.

Something heavy landed on the dirt road ahead with a thud that made the ground tremble.

The torchlight flickered across it — a massive shadow, low to the ground, bristling with legs.

Eight glowing eyes blinked open, reflecting crimson light.

A monster spider, its abdomen the size of a carriage, its fangs glistening with venom. Sticky threads stretched from tree to tree, already half-covering the road.

"Damn it—Spinners! Defensive formation!" Ronald barked.

The knights moved fast, but not fast enough. A white blur shot from the trees, a web thicker than a man’s arm, wrapping around two riders and yanking them screaming into the dark.

Another knight slashed with his sword, but his blade stuck to the web — and in the next second, the spider lunged, its leg piercing through his chest like a spear.

Chaos erupted. Horses whinnied, men shouted, steel rang against chitin — and then silence again, broken only by the wet sounds of death.

Inside the carriage, Oliver sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Well," he said, a faint smirk forming, "looks like it’s time to stretch my legs."

Before Isolde could even respond, he kicked the door open and jumped down, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. The air shimmered faintly — runes glowing along the blade.

"I’ll help too!" Ariana shouted, stumbling out behind him, staff glowing with blue light.

While Isolde stayed behind.

Oliver’s boots hit the dirt, his landing kicking up a small burst of dust. The runes along his sword’s edge flared faintly in the dusk — a pulsing crimson light that danced across the steel like fire in motion.

The knights were in chaos — their formation scattered, some caught in sticky white webs that clung like iron chains. Horses screamed as smaller spiders clambered up their legs, fangs flashing. The air reeked of venom and burnt flesh from half-scorched webs.

Oliver’s gaze lifted — and his breath hitched.

Gods... that’s ugly.

The creature loomed ahead, its chitinous body glistening like wet obsidian under the pale torchlight. Eight eyes glowed a sickly violet, reflecting every motion. Each leg was long and barbed, ending in hooks sharp enough to carve through armor. Its abdomen pulsed with faint blue veins, swollen with venom that oozed through cracks in its shell.

It clicked its mandibles — chkk-chkk — the sound scraping against Oliver’s nerves like claws on glass.

And worse — it wasn’t alone.

Dozens of smaller ones — each the size of a hound — crawled out from the underbrush, their bodies twitching, mandibles gnashing in anticipation. Their silken threads shimmered across the trees like a ghostly web of death, trapping the knights’ movements completely.

"Damn it, there’s more of them!" one knight shouted, trying to free his sword arm from the binding threads.

"Hold the line!" Ronald’s voice roared from the front. His sword cleaved through two smaller spiders in a single swing — the blade cutting cleanly even as acidic blood splattered across his armor. "Protect the lady at all costs!"

Ariana, clutching her staff tightly. "High Heal!"

A soft light enveloped a wounded knight nearby, closing the gash on his leg. "Rejuvenation!" she called again, her voice trembling but focused.

Knights near her turned, panting, their eyes filled with both gratitude and disbelief. "You have my thanks, miss!" one shouted before diving back into the fray.