Much Higher

Tales disliked dawn.

The last dawn that had left a deep impression on him had been six years ago in Dragoncloud City, at the moment the Calamity vanished and the giant dragon took flight.

But as the long night neared its end and dawn broke in the east, what he saw was not hope, but an abyss.

Back then, he had also endured disasters beyond ordinary imagination, forced his body onward with barely any supplies or rest, and faced problems that seemed almost impossible to solve.

In the tense atmosphere, facing dozens of ravenous mercenaries, Tales clenched his fists.

With only one arm usable, Little Barney wrapped the iron chain tightly around his left shoulder. Leaning sideways, he struggled to restrain Ricky.

"That was... quite a... counterattack... So... what... do we... do now...?"

Barney practically bit the words out between his teeth, showing just how difficult his situation was.

The other three people restraining Ricky were no better off. They were prisoners who had only recently been released, and after battle upon battle, their supplies had fallen far behind their consumption. All of them were panting heavily and baring their teeth in pain.

What should they do?

Tales took a deep breath, trying to suppress the dizziness that seemed ready to surge into his mind again.

When they had been captured by the Calamity Sword, Yordel, who had been lurking in secret, had only had time to hurriedly tell Tales about his rescue plan—Ricky had been keeping an especially close watch on Tales.

And that hasty plan had ended there.

But what came next...

Tales looked toward Bladefang Camp in the distance, struggling to think of a way out.

Sakrael still held his sword in one hand. He stood before the mercenaries surrounding him in a semicircle, facing their gritted