Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

I rested for a few hours.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun began to set in the west.

Lance came down from the magic rope space and called the others out as well.

Drucker stretched, his bones cracking: "A good night's sleep makes me feel so much better!"

Logan rubbed his eyes: "Captain, your snoring is too loud..."

"Bullshit! I never snore!"

"Go ahead and fight! Fight louder than the dwarven war drums!"

"You must be dreaming!"

After saying this, Durak turned to look at Lance. "Lord Lance, where are we going next?"

"Ash Hills, of course," Lance said. "We should go fight the goblins."

……

After marching for an hour, the group arrived at the Misty Forest.

Sunlight filters through the canopy of the misty forest, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Lance walked in the middle of the group, with Little Black perched on his shoulder and Cielsa beside him. The four members of the Iron Fist Squad spread out in a fan shape, with Durak leading the way, Finn behind, Logan flanking the sides, and Greta bringing up the rear.

"Stop!" Finn suddenly stopped and squinted at the distance.

Lance looked at Finn. "What's wrong?"

Finn paused for two seconds, then pointed west and said, "It looks like something's coming from that direction."

Lance immediately became alert.

[Summoning scout mosquitoes!]

A mosquito emerged from the void and flew in the direction Finn indicated.

After flying about 500 meters, passing over a sparse forest, a path appeared ahead.

Five people were walking in this direction on the path.

They wore dark gray leather armor, were well-equipped, and had uniform weapons.

There were no signs or badges.

But look at their movements—they coordinate perfectly, their formation is impeccable, some are responsible for scouting ahead, some for guarding the flanks, and some for covering the rear.

A very standard combat squad.

Lance narrowed his eyes, sensing the information relayed by the scout mosquito.

[Target: Edric Ironshield]

Race: Human

[Class: Warrior]

[Level: 7]

------

[Target: Vald Lulu]

Race: Human

[Class: Warrior]

[Level: 7]

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

[Target: Grell Without a Trace]

Race: Human

Occupation: Wanderer

[Level: 6]

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

[Target: Celine the Wind Chaser]

[Race: Half-elf]

[Occupation: Archer]

[Level: 6]

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

[Target: Cohen the Hunter]

Race: Human

[Occupation: Ranger]

[Level: 6]

These are five elite-level professionals.

Those two warriors were level 7 professionals, higher than everyone in the Iron Fist Squad.

Wearing high-quality, unmarked equipment and displaying excellent tactical coordination, they were clearly not ordinary adventurers.

Judging from their demeanor, they seem more like they come from a military background.

Lance withdrew the scout mosquito, his expression serious.

"Someone's coming."

He reminded Dulac and the others, "Two level 7 warriors, one level 6 rogue, one level 6 archer, and one level 6 ranger."

"Their demeanor is like that of a military unit... I have a feeling they're up to no good..."

Dulac's expression changed.

"Level 7?" He gripped his battle axe tighter. "It's unlikely that Rield City would assemble a team of five elite-level professionals, let alone a level 7 one..."

"They probably have ill intentions!"

"They might be from the Sassanid kingdom." Greta drew her sword.

"The Kingdom of Sassanid?" Lance gave her a questioning look.

"The Kingdom of Sassan is our southern neighbor, the Kingdom of Ereland. Although there are constant frictions along the border, there has been no real war for a long time."

Greta explained, "They might be an elite squad sent by the Sassanid military to gather intelligence."

Ron remained silent, his eyes revealing determination—Lord Lance had just experienced a major battle, and no matter how many spell slots and mana storage equipment he had, he should have very few left.

At this distance, since we've spotted them, they must have spotted us too.

Given their levels, especially with one of them being a level 6 ranger, if they tried to escape, they would definitely be caught.

Since that's the case, why not take a gamble!

If these people are indeed from the Kingdom of Sassan, then we will truly have to rely on them to protect Lord Lance.

In this battle, there is no turning back!

Sielsa stood beside Lance, her scimitar drawn, her purple eyes filled not with fear, but with fighting spirit.

Although we can't be sure if the person on the other side is the enemy, but...

[Mage Armor!]

The Bear's Resilience!

The power of the bull!

The elegance of cats!

[Apply oil to the soles of your feet!]

……

Lance began casting a spell again.

"No, Lord Lance, how can you still cast spells?!" Ron was dumbfounded.

"Mind your own business, Master!"

Drak was excited, feeling the power surging within him. He realized that although he was one level lower than the warrior opposite him, he was still capable of fighting.

Little Black stood up from Lance's shoulder, its eerie green eyes fixed on the direction of the woods, its tail swaying gently.

"Level 7?" Its voice was soft and sweet, tinged with curiosity. "One level higher than me."

When Dulac and the others heard Xiao Hei speak, they were startled again.

Logan looked at Little Black, his eyes lighting up: "I knew it, I knew it... How could a mage have an ordinary little cat by his side? This cat can even talk!"

But then she added regretfully, "Alas, it's just a kitten. Even if it can talk, it's of no use in this situation..."

If it were useful, we used it when fighting the kobolds and beholders, didn't we? Since it didn't work, it must mean the user isn't good at combat.

However, Blackie only gave Ron a contemptuous look, treating him like dirt, without saying a word in rebuttal.

No one paid any attention to Ron; everyone was on high alert.

Lance had already finished reciting the incantation and making the hand gestures. Once he confirmed that it was an enemy, he would immediately unleash a [Secondary Spirit Bomb].

The sound of light footsteps came from the woods.

Soon, five figures emerged from the shadows of the trees.

The two leading warriors were burly, wearing half-plate armor and wielding two-handed greatswords—level 7 warriors, Edric Ironshield and Vald Lulu.

The one on the left has a scar on his face and a sinister look in his eyes; the one on the right is bald and has a sneer on his lips.

Behind them, a thin man hunched over slightly, holding a short sword in each hand—a Level 6 Wanderer, Grell No Trace.

His footsteps were as light as a cat's, making almost no sound as he stepped on the gravel.

Further behind, a half-elf stood on a tree branch, her longbow already fully drawn—a level 6 archer, Celine Windrunner.

Her eyes, pale gold, were fixed on Finn.

At the very back, a man in leather armor stood in the shadows, holding a hunting knife, with a gray hunting dog crouching beside him—a level 6 ranger, Cohen the Hunter.

The five people spread out in a fan shape, blocking all escape routes.

Their teamwork was excellent, and their movements were fluid; they were clearly seasoned veterans.