The seventeen-year-old girl looked toward the lighthouse through the wind and snow:
"Shade, I'm afraid we won't be getting much help later. The Church's Thirteenth Ring Warlocks have probably all gone to the other three ritual sites."
"That's fine. Isn't this just like before?"
Shade said with a smile. Iluna nodded and walked with him onto the small snow-covered path to the right.
They pressed onward through the fog against the wind and snow. Mushroom-covered Corpse Ghouls and animated Blood-red Vines blocked their way, but they quickly cleared them out. The battle on Eastern Island seemed to have already begun, though only several points of light could be seen tangled together in the air through the fog. So far, no one had used large-scale Thaumaturgy like Words of Sublimation on the island. It seemed the Church landing party was still acting conservatively.
Before the old manor that had been abandoned for a century, Shade and Iluna finally encountered the first Ring Arcanist on the island.
From a distance, they saw a figure standing before the manor, which was bound in chains and looked like a haunted house in the deep night. As they approached, they saw that he was a middle-aged man carrying a Kerosene Lamp and wearing a snow cloak.
He was dressed rather elegantly, in white gloves and polished leather shoes—hardly an outfit one would expect to see in the Great Swamp.
When the two sides met, Shade's first words were:
"Don't tell me you stood here for hours before finally waiting for us?"
He signaled for Iluna to stop, then said rather sympathetically:
"The temperature outside is far below freezing right now."
"Thank you for your concern. The clothes I'm wearing have been treated with alchemy, and I've only been standing here for half an hour. That