The vanguard entered the forest by the lake under Whitemane's guidance. The Scourge Hounds and Darkblood Bats had charged out from here, so it was no surprise that the Dreadguard was hiding in the forest too.
The trees were dense, and the group had no choice but to slow down. Unas had heard the saying, "Never enter a forest," because it was easy to walk into an ambush among the trees. He kept his eyes fixed on the minimap in his mind. If the enemy used undead troops to ambush him, he would spot them immediately.
Whitemane suddenly stopped. She was leading the way, so the whole group stopped with her. Gordon grew impatient and hurriedly asked, "What is it?"
"It vanished from my senses," Whitemane said calmly. "The mark I placed on it expired long ago, and now the last trace of its presence has finally faded."
"Where did you last sense it?"
"Directly ahead of us. It was moving the whole time, as if it were fleeing."
Gordon pondered for a moment, then ordered, "Darian, take everyone back. Unas and I will pursue it a little longer."
This wasn't the first time Darian had received an order like this. Although Gordon entrusting the group to him showed that he trusted Darian's abilities, always being the backup didn't feel good. Gordon was the captain, yet he was always playing the lone hero and leaving Darian to deal with the rest. His earlier remark, "Don't focus only on your sister," had also left Darian deeply dissatisfied.
Before he could protest, Whitemane spoke up first. "Stop this pointless pursuit. We should all go back and help the other teams out of trouble."
"If we kill the Dreadguard controlling those beasts, they'll scatter on their own. It's not pointless," Gordon quickly countered.
"It's impossible for you to find a flying enemy in this dense forest," Darian interjected. "You'll only be wasting time."
Gordon glanced at Darian in surprise, not expecting him to object as well. He nodded and said quickly, "You're absolutely right. We don't have time to argue, and it'll be hard for Unas and me to find the enemy on our own. So you and Whitemane will both stay and help us hunt down that demon."
"Earl," he said, turning to a tall, thin knight beside him, "you'll lead the group back."
"Yes, sir," Earl answered without hesitation. Obeying orders without question was the mark of a true soldier.
No one else in the group objected. Unas was Gordon's follower now, so of course he wouldn't disobey him either. The soldiers turned their horses around and followed Earl. Most of them had been recruited into the vanguard by Gordon, and they had complete trust in their commander.
Darian and Whitemane stood there stunned. Neither sibling had expected Gordon to be so uncompromising, leaving them unable to advance or retreat.
Gordon and Unas didn't wait for them. The two rode off on their own, leaving the siblings behind.
Gordon knew perfectly well that Darian was right. Without Whitemane's senses, finding the Dreadguard in this forest would be far too difficult. He was only gambling.
He was eighty percent certain the enemy hadn't set an ambush. That demon didn't have so much patience; if it had troops lying in wait, they would have appeared long ago. It was only fleeing.
Twenty people could send it running, but what about two? Gordon was betting that the Dreadguard wouldn't be able to resist attacking the two of them—now four. Then he could turn the tables, kill it and reclaim Firekiss.
The siblings eventually caught up from behind. He had deeply offended them this time, but Gordon had never been afraid of offending people. He deliberately slowed down to avoid getting too far ahead of them. After all, they could be attacked too.
After they had traveled a little farther, a white mist gathered around them without their noticing. Gordon tightened his grip on his whip and warned Unas, "Same old trick. Be careful."
There was no response from behind him. He turned and saw that Unas, who had been riding beside him all along, had vanished without a sound!
A chill of alarm ran through him, and he immediately shouted Unas's name. The mist-filled forest was frighteningly quiet, and his shout quickly vanished as if swallowed by an abyss.
He turned his horse around and raced back, shouting, "Darian! Whitemane!" But there was no one behind him either. The siblings had disappeared too.
Beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead. If someone could silently take out all three of them, then he had no chance of surviving either. But why was he still alive and sitting on his horse?
He had little time to think. Cries for help suddenly rang out ahead. As if grasping at a lifeline, Gordon dug his heels into his horse's flanks and raced toward the sound.
The clamor of shouting grew clearer and clearer. It didn't sound like it came from only three people. Firelight shone through the trees in the distance, and judging by the look of it, the blaze was substantial. Gordon cracked his whip, burst through a thicket, and could hardly believe the scene that suddenly appeared before him.
A stone-paved road piled with corpses, houses burning fiercely on both sides of the street, a sickening sweetness in the air, and civilians screaming as they scattered in all directions. This was a place he could never forget—Elder's Square in Stratholme City.
He whipped around. The forest behind him was nowhere to be seen. A blood-soaked knight who looked as though he had come from hell sat motionless there. The knight's head hung low as he panted heavily, his long, bloodstained blond hair falling over most of his face.
But Gordon recognized at a glance the man he had once sworn to serve unto death—
"Arthas!"
The prince of Lordaeron jerked his head up. His subordinate dared to address him by name, and he knew that could mean only one thing. Rage and fear twisted his handsome face, and a bestial roar burst from his mouth. "Are you going to betray me too, Joseph Gordon!?"
"I'm not only going to betray you," Gordon said. The enemy he had gnashed his teeth over day and night was right before him. Hatred and fury overwhelmed his reason, and he drove his warhorse forward with all his might. "I'm going to tear you to pieces!"
The desire to destroy filled Gordon's heart. Even if all of this seemed so unreal, what could be more important than killing this fallen coward with his own hands?
Unas suddenly jolted awake in bed. He grabbed his alarm clock and looked. Two fifty. Fuck, I'm screwed! His math exam was at three that afternoon, and entry closed at two thirty. The alarm clock had broken, so why hadn't anyone come to wake him!?
He hurriedly put on his shoes and rushed out the door, only to suddenly notice a glowing green dot in his mind. Isn't this—Sense Undead?
That's right. Didn't I transmigrate to Tirisfal Glades with a system? Wasn't I pursuing an enemy?
As this realization dawned on him, his body felt lighter, as though something binding his soul had dissipated. The scene around him tore apart like a curtain, and Unas found himself back in the forest.
But what greeted him was Gordon, greatsword raised, thrusting straight at him. In an instant, the sword tip was right before his eyes, and the wind from the blade nearly forced them shut.
Without time to think, Unas threw himself backward, pulled his feet free of the stirrups and pushed hard against the horse's back with both hands. Curling into a ball, he slid over the horse's rump, performed a backflip in midair and landed steadily on the ground.
Unas was stunned by the move he had made on instinct. He figured even Jackie Chan couldn't do much better. Enhanced Blessing of Kings had raised his agility to twice that of an ordinary person, making his movements more nimble and fluid as well.
But this was no time to feel pleased with himself. Gordon's eyes were bloodshot as he roared and charged again. He must have fallen victim to some sinister trick, just like the dream Unas had entered. But Gordon didn't have the protection of the almighty system, and he seemed to be trapped rather deeply.
"Gordon! Wake up!" he shouted, but Gordon showed no sign of coming to his senses.
Clanging also came from behind him. Whitemane and Darian seemed to have started fighting too. If the Dreadguard threw a fireball or something at them now, they would have no chance of surviving.
Clang! Hammer met sword as Unas swung his silver hammer hard and met Gordon's blow head-on. The impact sent a sharp pain through the web of his hand, and Verigan's Fist nearly flew from his grip. Sure enough, Gordon's strength was more than he could withstand directly.
Fortunately, Gordon was disoriented and out of his senses, hacking wildly like a new recruit. He also seemed to have forgotten that he could use fire. Otherwise, Unas could only have fled.
Unas dodged Black Wind as he charged past and realized he had another advantage: his weapon. The greatsword in Gordon's hand was merely a better-quality standard weapon chosen from the quartermaster's, a white-grade item at best. There was already a crack in its blade. Verigan's Fist was no divine weapon, but a named weapon couldn't be too bad. It was at least blue-grade.
Judging by the weapons alone, the hammer also had an advantage over the sword. If he met Gordon's blows a few more times and smashed his sword, he would have a chance to win. He just didn't know whether he could hold out that long, and Gordon was charging again!