Volgograd (25)

The two of them ate dry rations as they chatted, their laughter occasionally drifting away on the wind.

Just as Dana was laughingly recounting a certain Flame Swordsman's peculiar habits in the underground camp, Ang suddenly stiffened, his brows quietly knitting together.

He did not speak at once, merely sweeping his gaze over the surroundings so subtly it was almost imperceptible.

A strange palpitation clenched at his chest, as though an invisible hand had gripped it hard—a warning that seemed to rise from the depths of his soul.

He pretended to remain calm and continued responding to Dana's topic, even keeping a smile on his face.

Yet his fingertips had already quietly rested against his Magic Waist Pouch, ready to react at any moment.

A few minutes later, that palpitation became even more pronounced, as if some invisible force were steadily drawing closer.

Looking down, he found the hairs on his arms standing on end, as if his body had sensed some approaching danger before his mind had.

No longer hesitating, Ang abruptly stood up, produced a Magic Broom with a flick of his hand, and grabbed Dana by the wrist.

"Move!"

"Huh? What—wait!" Before Dana could react, Ang had already dragged him onto the broom.

The Serpent of Song was immediately left behind, letting out a low cry.

"Ang?! What are you doing?" Dana stared in surprise at the Serpent of Song rapidly shrinking below them. "Have you lost your mind? You're even abandoning your mount?"

"Don't ask. Hold on tight." As Ang accelerated upward, his eyes fixed coldly on the distance. "We've been targeted, and it's that one."

Dana's expression changed. "You mean... that Lizardman Legend?"

Before he had finished speaking, a sharp whistle suddenly tore through the night sky—

"Whoosh—!!"

A bone spear shot past them, trailing