"Sasha—"
Near the Molten Scale Mountains, thinning shrubs and grass dotted the dark-brown, reddish wasteland.
There was nothing special about it.
It was the most common, most ordinary stretch of wasteland.
But if you possessed the perception of a high-level professional and had mastered a few adventuring techniques for observing your surroundings, you would be able to detect that nearly invisible, blurred figure amid the breeze and the fine grains of sand it stirred up.
"Tap."
The barren earth's surface pressed down lightly, dust motes leaping, faintly revealing the outline of a right foot.
Yet what was strange was that, perhaps because of its owner's outstanding concealment technique, or perhaps because of a special ability enhanced by shadow power—or perhaps both—
one could clearly see that right foot bracing against the ground, exerting force to carry the body above it forward, completing a full step ahead.
But the ground beneath the sole left not the slightest trace.
Trackless and traceless.
Stealth techniques of extraordinary excellence.
A superb ability to hide that ordinary people could not detect even if they were standing face-to-face, right beside him.
With a faint sound, the air suddenly warped, shadows flickered, as though a layer of painted paper had been peeled away from space itself.
In the blink of an eye, a figure dressed in a black skintight outfit, short and small like a child, appeared on the field.
A gnome wanderer.
Following the principle of being as light and hard to detect as possible, he wore only a convenient set of light gear from head to toe. His waist pouch had been wound tightly around his waist many times with the most flexible leather cord, eliminating any chance it might fall off midway and make a sound.
Even the shoes on his feet were soft,