Chapter 169

Before Naell could ask one more question about their soon-to-be companions or perhaps a copy of a map, Owly pushed him inside. In an instant, much like teleportation, they poofed away from the Dwarven Empire and onto an unknown land—the ruined kingdom of Hatikala.

“...”

“What, HOOT?”

“I was going to ask Duwend where we should go and where we should meet them.”

“Ah, HOOT!”

“...”

“I forgot, HOOT?”

Naell could only sigh. He knew it was too late to blame the birb, and at that moment, it was not the right time to argue—they were already inside the enemy's den.

Immediately, both sensed hostility nearby. From high B-rank monsters to even awakened ones, judging from their aura and mana.

Some were even familiar, as they had battled those kinds of monsters before: Minotaurs, Trolls, and even Ogres. Yet, they all seemed ten times stronger here.

“‘Makes sense, as the monsters here seem older and more experienced, HOOT.’”

Naell could only nod, as it was really the case. Monsters in Hatikala had the time to refine their aura and mana, making them formidable enemies. This realization weighed heavily on him, knowing they were surrounded by such powerful creatures.

The only saving grace was that the room they had been transferred to seemed to contain scrolls repelling monsters from entering and detecting them.

“Hmm, it seems we’re in an abandoned noble's home,” said Naell as they quietly inspected the place.

“Indeed, HOOT.”

Both reached that conclusion as they explored the mansion. Even though it was in ruins, it held a beauty that whispered of former glory. The towering structure, now draped in a shroud of ivy and moss, seemed to blend seamlessly with the encroaching forest. Weathered stone walls, once smooth and pristine, bore the marks of time and neglect, their cracks like veins tracing a forgotten history.

The grand entrance, flanked by crumbling columns, stood ajar, both inviting and foreboding. Within, remnants of opulence lingered—a grand staircase with its banister still gleaming in places, despite layers of dust and decay. Broken chandeliers hung precariously from the ceiling, their crystals catching the light in a spectral dance.

Long hallways, lined with faded tapestries and portraits of stern ancestors, echoed with the silence of abandonment. Rooms that once hosted lavish balls and intimate gatherings now lay in disarray, furniture overturned and fabrics frayed. Yet, amidst the desolation, there were glimpses of splendor: a gilded mirror reflecting ghostly figures, an intricately carved fireplace, and stained-glass windows that painted the floor in fragmented hues of red, blue, and green.

In the garden, wildflowers and weeds waged a quiet battle for dominance over the neglected hedges and statues. The scent of roses, surprisingly robust, mingled with the earthy aroma of damp soil and decay. It was a place where time had stood still, preserving a haunting beauty that beckoned to those with a penchant for history and mystery.

For the noble family that had once called this mansion home, the ruins were a testament to their past influence and the ephemeral nature of power and wealth.

“Maybe we’re inside the royal castle of Hatikala, HOOT?”

That was also what Naell was dreadfully thinking. Yet if that was the case, then perhaps they were doomed from the start, as Duwend had put them in the worst place they could be teleported to. Objective-wise, it was an optimal place, yet without a coherent plan, it was truly dangerous.

“I sure hope it’s not.”

As they scouted the place, they eventually found a map of Hatikala, yellowed with age and frayed at the edges, hidden in a dusty drawer in what appeared to be the study. Clutching this vital piece of information, they meticulously planned their escape.

Navigating the mansion was a perilous endeavor. Shadows danced ominously in the corners, and the low growls of monsters echoed through the hallways, a constant reminder of the danger lurking nearby. Naell and Owly moved with calculated stealth, ducking behind decaying furniture and slipping through narrow doorways to avoid detection. Their hearts pounded with every creak of the floorboards beneath their feet.

There were moments of sheer terror—a monstrous silhouette at the end of a corridor, the sudden crash of a window shattering in a distant room—but they pressed on, guided by the map and their determination to escape. They communicated with silent gestures, understanding the gravity of their situation.

Occasionally, they both had to silently, as Naell called it, “put monsters to sleep.” This annoyed Owly, as Naell’s skills tended to be more explosive.

Thus, it was up to Owly, using his spell Lullaby, to make the enemies literally fall asleep.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the exit. The fresh air was a welcome relief, and the sight of the forest surrounding the mansion was both intimidating and reassuring.

They had made it out, but the forest held its own set of challenges. That’s when they realized where they were—the location they were sent to seemed to be outside the town, in an outskirt mansion belonging to an influential noble.

“Well, at least we’re not lost… technically,” said Naell, to which Owly only responded with a blank stare.

Owly didn’t know if he should be happy, as being that far away meant they would have to navigate stealthily. Although this did give them ample time to survey the kingdom as a whole.

As they were discussing what to do, loud explosions were heard nearby. They could sense fierce battles taking place, as the clash of spells and aura vibrated through the air.

Without delay, the duo ran toward the battle—but not before inscribing a symbol they’d learned from Klata.

Some time after their departure, Enitma and Duwend sat in a quiet room back in the Dwarven Empire, each cradling a steaming cup of tea. The atmosphere was calm, a stark contrast to the chaos Naell and Owly now faced.

Enitma took a sip, then sighed deeply, setting his cup down with a hint of exasperation. “I wonder what they’re doing now…”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Duwend replied, but Enitma noticed the dwarf stroking his beard, his gaze distant and slightly shifty.

“What’s wrong, Master?” Enitma asked, raising an eyebrow.

Duwend looked somewhat sheepish, glancing down at his tea. “Well… did anyone actually give them the map? Or mention where they’d be landing… and who they were supposed to meet?”

“...”

Duwend blinked, then gave a light chuckle with a shrug. “A test of their wits, I’d say. They’ll figure it out… eventually.”

Enitma could only close his eyes, fighting the urge to sigh once more.