The Pursuers

Haoyue, rocks, a campfire, the wilderness, a man.

When Tales woke up, this was the scene Hell Senses showed him.

Good. He wasn't tied up.

Tales slowly opened his eyes. Despite the pain in the back of his head and waves of dizziness, he quietly felt around his waist.

"Looking for this?"

A voice as loud as a gong rang out.

Tales sighed, gave up searching, and struggled to sit up. He brushed the dust from his clothes. "That's mine."

Beside the campfire at night, Monty was leaning leisurely against a tree, smiling as he watched him.

The JC Dagger spun deftly back and forth in the man's hand, flashing through a series of flourishes.

"I have to admit, it's pretty sharp."

The Dead Crow reversed his grip on the dagger and slashed swiftly through the air. With a faint swish, he drew his arm back.

"I know quite a bit about weapons, but I can't identify its original material at all. Probably some rare metal. Tsk, tsk, the royal family really is the royal family." Monty tapped the JC Dagger's edge, clicking his tongue with interest.

Tales helplessly rolled his neck to ease the pain in the back of his head—and took the opportunity to observe his surroundings.

They were no longer in the forest from before. Instead, they were in a wilderness with complicated terrain and jagged rocks. The man had even lit a fire beneath a huge rock that slanted to provide shelter from the wind.

Two horses were tied to the tree behind Monty. Their saddles and tack were of excellent quality. One carried a quiver, while the other even had a longsword and shield hanging from it—it was clearly a warhorse.

Within Hell Senses, Monty's outline was no different from an ordinary person's, appearing as