Chapter 1177: The Adventurer’s Path

Half an hour later, Laura found herself standing in the pre-departure staging area alongside a group of adventurers. As she glanced down at the supplies handed to her and watched her temporary teammates chatting and preparing with easy smiles, the young huntress still felt a bit dazed. She had only intended to check if there were any routine tasks nearby—like clearing out scattered elemental creatures around the camp. How had she suddenly ended up assigned to a far more dangerous “advancement squad”?

Beside her, the old wizard Modir wore a broad grin. The spry elder, seemingly more energetic than many younger men, stuffed a frost-resistance potion into his robes and casually remarked to a nearby adventurer, “Honestly, they gave me this stuff for nothing—I’m not afraid of a little cold. It’s you younger folks with weaker constitutions who really need to be prepared. The polar temperatures here aren’t a joke. If any of you run low on resistance potions along the way, just come find me…”

The adventurer he addressed blinked a few times, hesitating to respond. After a few attempts to speak, the words died on their tongue. The realm of the transcendent was different from that of ordinary people. This white-haired old man was a mage wielding mysterious powers; bolstered by powerful spells, an elder like him might be no weaker than a so-called “prime” youth. Quietly nodding seemed the more polite choice.

Modir then turned his attention to Laura, who had remained silent. A smile played on his lips. “Laura, you don’t look very lively—that’s not the usual spirit of a warrior about to embark on a mission.”

“I was actually planning to join the cleanup task over in the camp’s east sector,” Laura said, snapping out of her daze with an awkward smile. “I never intended to sign up for the advancement squad… but you just dragged me into it without asking.”

“I thought I did ask you…” Modir blinked, tapping his forehead in mild confusion. “Or maybe I’m misremembering.” He quickly dismissed the minor detail. “Ah, I can’t recall now. Looks like I owe you an apology, Miss Laura. Do you want to back out? We haven’t left yet.”

“No,” Laura sighed, a bit helpless. For some reason, when facing this eccentric old gentleman, she always felt a strange sense of déjà vu—like dealing with her own elderly, scatterbrained but well-meaning grandfather. Since her grandfather’s passing years ago, she hadn’t felt anything like this, and it made her relax around Modir, who, despite his age, was remarkably energetic. She found herself influenced by his enthusiasm. “After all, it’s still just around the camp.”

“Emperor Gawain Cecil once said—‘Fortune favors the bold.’ Miss Laura, we’re not here to enjoy comfort,” a one-handed swordsman nearby chuckled heartily. “Looks like you haven’t been on an advancement squad before? Trust me, the rewards from these missions far outweigh just ‘cleaning up’ near the camp. Near the exploration frontier, elemental creatures are more active, and the mana-rich zones are abundant. Their strength isn’t much greater than the monsters around the camp, but the highly purified elemental cores and the occasional crystals from mana springs are worth far more than low-grade elemental mixtures.”

“And if you’re lucky, you might even find treasures left over from the Talrond era,” a female swordsman added cheerfully. “Those relics somehow survived the wars, lying intact beneath mud and permafrost. In Loren continent, such things would easily fetch you a whole estate. Here, they’re buried alongside burnt stones… Honestly, I can’t imagine how lavish those dragons’ lives must have been before the war.”

“Feels like they all lived like kings…” “Definitely. I even heard from a dragon once that every household had a butler—some Omega smart assistant or something? Can you imagine that kind of life?” “No, I can’t even picture it—now it’s all gone…” “Such a shame.”

Adventurers’ conversations easily grew lively, especially when wealth was involved. This makeshift “unit” quickly warmed up, the once-strangers from all corners of the world chatting as if old friends, exchanging views and weaving the threads of camaraderie. Such bonds sometimes helped improve their survival odds during joint missions—offering a helping hand when one fell. But more often, this “friendship” mainly served to boost morale, dispelling tension and fear.

Friendship began with pre-departure banter from all directions and ended with the final headcount back at camp. Of course, if luck held and they survived multiple such cycles together, true battlefield bonds would form, strengthened over shared meals and drinks, lasting until death parted them.

This was the life adventurers—and the bloodthirsty mercenaries—knew well.

But not all adventurers lived this way. Some were more solitary, and Laura was one of them.

The young huntress disliked forced small talk and lively chatter. She quietly focused on organizing her gear:

Three frost-resistance potions from the camp’s logistics team—once expensive alchemical products, now freely distributed to every adventurer to withstand Talrond’s biting cold; a personal protective magi-tech terminal, rented with a small deposit. This modern industrial device generated a single-person micro-wind shield, which not only helped block the cold but also allowed survival in toxic environments.

The latter function was especially crucial. In this hazardous wasteland, toxic conditions were a constant companion. The safe zone’s borders were riddled with leaking factory pipes, polluted elemental fissures, and toxic gas vents. Even powerful transcendent beings could easily perish from environmental poisoning if careless.

To operate safely in Talrond’s wasteland today, continuous 24-hour protection was essential. In the old days, most average transcendent individuals couldn’t maintain such defense with personal magic alone. But now, tireless machines could do it—requiring only ample mana supply and careful maintenance. Laura didn’t dare slack off here. She knew well that the last careless soul had died near a factory ruin by the camp, never even managing to dig up a single gold coin from this “adventurer’s paradise” before succumbing to toxic fumes. His name was now displayed prominently in the adventurer’s hall, and by this time next year, the grass over his grave would likely be tall.

“Enough chatting. Check your gear, check your gear.”

A mature, steady shield warrior noticed Laura’s quiet diligence and called out, snapping the somewhat lax temporary team back to attention. The adventurers finally quieted down and began methodically inspecting their life-saving equipment.

After a while, the bell signaling the gate’s readiness rang out in the assembly area. Over a dozen adventurer squads, each assigned their own tasks, started moving toward the camp’s outer departure gate. Laura and Modir left the hall’s rear staging area with the others, passing along the “Armed Path” trail to the towering, sturdy perimeter wall. Before them stood a massive gate cast entirely from alloy, its thick panels shielding the camp from the harsh weather outside.

With the creaking of mechanical gears, the heavy black gate slowly swung open. A howling cold wind rushed in, and even through the micro-wind shield, the Arctic chill made those accustomed to warmer climes shiver.

The endless Talrond wasteland stretched out before Modir’s eyes. The old wizard couldn’t help but laugh, stepping forward eagerly—

“Ah, the unknown lands… I’m ready!”

…

Atop the high wall’s watchtower, Byron’s gaze swept over the vast wasteland below. He watched as the adventurer gates opened and a dozen fully armed squads filed out, stepping onto the heavily polluted, ruin-strewn plains beyond the town. He sighed wistfully, “Ah… adventurers… seeing this always reminds me of my mercenary days.”

The Dragonmark Witch Asalina’s voice came from beside him. “I don’t recall us having such grand setups and logistics when we were mercenaries—such large strongholds, efficient command centers, professional task coordination and support teams, semi-standardized gear, and dragons on standby for rescue. Back then, not even regular armies had such treatment.”

“Not even today’s armies get this kind of support—this is Talrond, the dragons’ land,” Byron smiled, withdrawing his gaze to look at the red-haired woman. “I was just reminiscing about old times.”

“…The Agondor administrators have begun pushing westward into the controlled zone. Nearly half of today’s adventurer squads are advancing toward the Crystal Hills. Their mission is to clear monsters along the way and secure the safety of this corridor,” Asalina said casually. “Looks like the dragons are no longer content with Agondor being an isolated safe island in the wasteland.”

“I heard they plan to open a passage to the Crystal Hills within a week and set up a communications station there to receive messages from the west coast,” Byron nodded. “If that station is established, contact between Agondor and the west coast outpost will be much easier—at least one daily communication.”

“Considering what that outpost is monitoring, even once-a-day communication isn’t very frequent,” Asalina shook her head. “But given Talrond’s terrible environment, managing long-distance communication across half the continent is already a miracle. We can’t be too demanding.”

“True… but it doesn’t concern me much anymore,” Byron shrugged. “I’m leaving in a couple of days anyway.”

“You’re returning to Loren continent?” Asalina looked surprised. “So soon?”

Byron waved it off casually. “I’m a naval commander. This mission is just escorting alliance supplies and construction teams. Staying too long in Talrond isn’t part of my orders—I have to report back.”

“Fair enough,” Asalina nodded, then smiled. “Well, I’m leaving soon too. We’ll travel back together.”

“You’re leaving too?” This time, it was Byron’s turn to be surprised. He couldn’t help but give the dragonborn lady in front of him a thorough once-over. “Aren’t you the leader of the support team? Why aren’t you staying here to help the dragons with the rebuilding efforts?”

Asralena shook her head. “Just like you, my mission was only to get the team safely to Tal’Rath. The follow-up work will be handled by other dragonborn specialists who will take over.”

“I see… I thought you’d be in charge of coordinating the reconstruction. Honestly, I was curious how someone like you—whose only talents seem to be drinking and fighting—could manage something so professional…”

Hearing Byron’s offhand remark, a faint smile tugged at Asralena’s lips. She turned her head to look at her former “mercenary captain” and grinned, a shimmering, almost tangible stream of magical flame curling from the corners of her mouth. Hot dragon breath rose from both sides of her cheeks.

Byron’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hey, hey! Asralena! No need to get so serious! If you breathe fire on me now, is this some kind of diplomatic incident?”

“It’s rare to hear the phrase ‘diplomatic incident’ come from your mouth,” Asralena said, her lips curling up as the faint dragon breath dissipated silently. She raised an eyebrow in a teasing challenge. “But what’s even rarer is that you actually got my name right on the first try. Tell me, is your impression of me really just ‘drinking and fighting’?”

“…Are you expecting me to say ‘beauty and brains’?” Byron thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, “I guess I could say that if you want…”

“Forget it. I just imagined how that would sound coming from you, and it’s basically an insult,” Asralena said with a strange expression, waving her hand dismissively. Then she suddenly stopped, as if caught in a wave of memories. After several seconds of silence, she spoke again. “Honestly, I can barely remember what our old companions looked like back when we adventured together in the southern lands.”

Byron glanced at her in surprise. “Don’t dragonborn have long lifespans? I thought those memories would be as fresh to you as if they happened yesterday…”

Asralena didn’t answer. She fell silent again, lost in thought. After a few more seconds, she finally said slowly, “I want to go see them.”

“…Do you have leave?”

“I can take it—it’s not difficult.”

“I can help you apply for an entry permit.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

(End of chapter)