By Gray Mist Lake, mid-June.
It was the hottest time of year. The damp vapor that perpetually hung above Gray Mist Lake shut out most of the sunlight. Rather than dry heat, the air here was as heavy as a waterlogged wool blanket, making people deeply uncomfortable.
Only one or two carriages occasionally passed through this place, but none ever stopped.
Yet today, a burst of clamor shattered the stillness along the lakeside road leading to the dungeon entrance.
The Black Fang Mercenary Group's vanguard Mercenary Corps had arrived, bustling about in full swing.
The sturdy mercenaries swung axes and saws, felling the swamp trees. The accompanying mages chanted under their breath, earthen-yellow glimmers flickering in their hands as they repeatedly poured Earth Shaping onto the muddy ground, laying a temporary camp foundation that could accommodate a large force and its baggage train.
These mercenaries wore standardized equipment: leather armor or heavy armor dyed in dark, muted colors, fine weapons at their sides, and vigilance toward unfamiliar territory in their eyes.
They had been urgently gathered from outposts across The Gloomy Lands. For this A-Rank Bounty, codenamed "Purge the Slimes," the mercenary group had even dispatched an Elite Professional to oversee the operation—a rare move.
Several thick white canvas tents had already been erected in the center of the camp. Torches were planted around the largest one, their dancing flames barely driving back the swamp's damp mist.
Inside the tent, a tall, upright man in half-plate knight armor stood intently before a crude sand-table map.
The sand table roughly simulated the terrain southwest of Gray Mist Lake, with several small flags planted across it to represent friendly and enemy forces.
The man was called Calvin. The mercenaries only knew that he had once been a Knight Captain of the White