Camping

If not for her presence, the other party probably wouldn't have paid any attention to Rhode at all.

It was only because he, an elf, was here that the other party answered the question, and even kindly gave a warning before leaving.

Rhode naturally understood this point from what Serie said—after all, from start to finish, the other party had never truly looked him in the eye.

But Serie's analogy still made him laugh out loud.

"At least they admitted I'm human." He counted on his fingers, "Dwarf, elf, Winged race—next up, a Priest. Only they can interpret the goddess's Sacred Codex and use Healing Magic anyway."

"A Priest?" Serie suddenly stopped in her tracks, the corner of her mouth beneath the white veil curving into a dangerous arc. "Are you sure you want to bring someone who chants the goddess's teachings all day along with us?"

Why can Priests interpret the Sacred Codex bestowed by the goddess?

The main reason is that they are devout enough to hear the voice of the deity.

Only under the guidance of the divine can they learn and use the magic recorded in the Sacred Codex.

Because of this, all Priests are a bunch of incessant little zealots!

"Uh..." Rhode imagined the scene and quickly shook his head. "Forget it, then."

He took a waterskin from his backpack and handed it to Serie. "Want some? I added a bit of honey to it."

This was a gift from nature along the way—a simple Fire Magic could retrieve the honey completely intact.

Serie took the waterskin, lifted her veil, and took a small sip. "A bit too sweet." Even as she said this, she took another sip before handing it back.

"By the way," Rhode tightened the cap on the waterskin, "Is this swamp big or not? We're not spending the night here, are we?"

Rhode and his companion had been doing their best to stay away from the central area of the Death Swamp, but the mosquitoes and insects around them showed no sign of decreasing. If they had to camp in this environment, Rhode didn't even want to imagine the torment they'd suffer.

"If we pick up the pace, we might make it out before dark—but that's assuming your map is accurate."

With a map from a hundred years ago, plus the gathering of so many Monsters, Rhode couldn't be sure if the terrain had changed.

So he pulled out the map Amuro had given him and studied it carefully. "According to the map, there should be a high ground ahead. If we can't get out today, we can set up camp there."

Serie leaned in to look, and a strand of golden hair slipped out from under her hood, brushing against Rhode's cheek. "This area might already be occupied by Monsters now."

Rhode nodded, thinking Serie had a point.

"Then how about here? It's close to the central area, but there's a small stream—great for camping."

A hint of disgust flickered in Serie's eyes. "Is there anywhere without these annoying little creatures?"

Rhode didn't answer, just smiled.

After all, they were in a swamp—how could there be a place without mosquitoes?

But fortunately, he had already thought of that.

Rhode patted the large pack on his back. "Don't worry, I'll set up a small tent for you."

"Tent?" Serie had never heard that word before.

"Never mind, you'll see soon enough."

The two quickened their pace. The swamp's humidity grew heavier, and they encountered quite a few Monsters along the way, but Rhode managed to avoid them all using his Detection Spell.

Even so, their progress was delayed considerably, and it was clear they wouldn't make it out of the swamp today.

Rhode kept holding a wooden stick, probing the ground with every step, afraid of stepping into a hidden mud pit.

Of course, he also carefully avoided the puddles on the ground to keep Serie's white robe clean—and she noticed all of it, her gaze softening slightly.

"Wait!" He suddenly crouched down, pointing at the ground. "Look at this footprint."

Serie bent down to examine it. "Doesn't look like a Monster. It's probably an ordinary small animal, and it left not long ago."

"So this swamp isn't entirely full of Monsters. I thought all the normal creatures here had been killed off."

"That's impossible. Monsters act purely on instinct, but they aren't always in a bloodthirsty frenzy. Most of the time, they're in a semi-dormant state. Only when they detect an unfamiliar presence do they go berserk."

After hearing Serie's explanation, Rhode gained a deeper understanding of Monsters.

No wonder the elf and Winged races had only now set aside their conflicts to join forces against these Monsters—there was this reason behind it.

Since most Monsters only moved within fixed territories, they didn't pose a threat. But the emergence of the Demon Race, a type of Monster with high intelligence, forced them to take the matter seriously.

"So the Demon Wolves that attacked Amuro's village were special Monsters?"

Serie thought for a moment and found no fault in Rhode's reasoning. "You could say that. But even among Monsters, those Demon Wolves belong to the wandering kind. They could pop out from any corner of the world."

"With that in mind, I'm curious how they haven't gone extinct. Do they have some special way of reproducing?"

Judging from the werewolves he had dealt with earlier, they were completely driven by instinct with no rationality. How could such creatures spread across the entire world?

Rhode was genuinely curious.

"Ordinary wolves corrupted by the Abyss lose their minds and become Demon Wolves. Among them, some powerful individuals evolve into what you call werewolves."

"I see."

As they chatted, the two turned past a dense thicket and found a small stream before them.

Rhode glanced at the sun. Though there was still some time before sunset, there was no need to force the pace.

Serie also cast a detection spell. "There are quite a few Monsters nearby. If we light a fire, it's likely to attract them."

Rhode counted the red dots in Serie's magic circle and spoke, "In that case, how about we clear out a batch of nearby monsters first and set up some Warning Magic at the same time?"

"Fine."

Serie strode off—this kind of task naturally suited her best.

After silently disposing of the last monster within a hundred meters, Serie scanned her surroundings, confirmed it was safe, and returned to Rhode's side.

"What are you doing?"

She saw Rhode pulling out some iron spikes, with a pile of gray thick cloth beside him. He was wrapping rope around the spikes before hammering them into the ground.

"Setting up a tent. Give me a moment."

Seeing Rhode busily occupied, Serie didn't press further and said, "I'll go find some firewood."

"Wait," Rhode quickly fished a cloth bag from his pack, "Take this. And see if there are any edible mushrooms around—swamps are great for mushroom growth."

Serie took the bag, the corner of her mouth twitching. "How am I supposed to tell which mushrooms are edible?"

"Just pick any that grow on trees. Don't touch the colorful ones. I'll sort them out when you get back."

"You really know your way around this," Serie remarked with genuine admiration.

"Of course!"

Rhode didn't hold back on the pride—after all, he'd lived alone in this fantasy world for nearly half a year, enough to earn the title of wilderness survival expert.