Fatal Oversight

The moment the "Sun" fell, all was silent.

All sound seemed to have vanished.

A faint ringing filled everything, and it took a long while before any noise could be heard, but even then, it all blended into a cacophony, indistinguishable.

Yet, amidst the dizziness and blurred vision, that noise gradually became unified.

Even the New Star's body trembled along with it.

"Rumble, rumble--"

The tremors were far more intense and heavy than the footsteps of a troll.

It had to be some much larger creature, slowly approaching his direction.

He patted his bewildered head, trying to force himself to wake up--

At the instant the sea of fire erupted, engulfing the land in flames.

Realizing he was about to be burned to ashes, the New Star activated his last remaining ring position.

Using Misty Step, he transformed into a thin wisp of silver-white smoke, almost merging with the layers of mist in the forest.

In the blink of an eye, he floated thirty feet away to the side of the camp tent, not even a spark touching him.

But the flames had ignited the blazing glue by the bonfire, and everything else flammable.

The chain reaction of explosions, along with the roar of fireballs, still assaulted his eardrums.

Now, barely regaining his senses, only one thought remained in his mind--

Run!

For a spellcaster, once they touched the domain of a third-ring spell, their status and position would undergo a qualitative change.

The fireball, like a meteor, came out of nowhere; hardly any mercenaries could react.

Now, flames burned their faces, their glowing armor radiating intense heat, and most could only wail in agony as they burned, losing their combat effectiveness.

Those who narrowly avoided the flames fled desperately out of the sea of fire.

A single spell had routed the once valiant mercenaries, shattering their formation.

Spellcasters were truly unreasonable.

And the trembling sound grew closer.

From the re-condensed mist, a towering figure gradually emerged.

Because it was large enough, and slow enough.

Its true form could not yet be discerned.

Only the earth-shattering drumming and roaring battle cries that kept pace with the figure could be heard from afar:

"Hoo, ha!"

"Hoo, ha!"

"Hoo, ha!"

Whatever was hidden within that shadow was something the New Star had never encountered and was powerless to resist.

As he turned desperately to flee towards his own tent, the shouts of the Explosive Wolf by his ear were also terrifying:

"It's orcs, damn orcs!

Everyone, retreat, retreat into the woods!

Why are they in this cursed place!?"

The "Lord Alliance" was a fragile treaty uniting the independent city-states on the eastern coast of the Forgotten Continent through trade, diplomacy, and strategic cooperation.

The reason they maintained this fragile agreement was not because the lords were noble and unwilling to encroach on each other's territory.

It was solely because of the southern front--

For a thousand years lost to history, wars on the continent had never ceased.

Not only were there shifts in power, but there was also racial hatred.

Orcs, these green-skinned creatures as ugly as wild boars, as ferocious as jackals, and as brave as tigers, had never ceased their desire for conquest and slaughter.

They abducted women of all races, forcing them to bear new warriors, so they could strengthen their tribes through their nomadic lifestyle, and then turn everything into a sea of slaughter and blood--

From a values perspective, violence and bloodshed were their "aesthetics."

This was something most races could not accept.

The primary tenet of the Lord Alliance was to repel them beyond the Great Wall border at all costs, in exchange for internal peace.

And Explosive Wolf was a warrior who had actually participated in the southern defense--

This was, of course, for the generous rewards.

Even though the mercenaries by his side were no longer the brothers of yesteryear.

His fear of orcs had never once subsided:

"How could they have crossed the Great Wall and migrated to the Twilight Forest thousands of miles away!?"

Their appearance was enough to explain the vanguard unit composed of goblins and trolls.

Only orcs could have enslaved them and used them as their suicide squads.

But this precisely proved they were a complete tribe, not scattered escapees.

Unless the major cities in the south were crushed into ruins and the Druid tribes in the forests were slaughtered, there was no reason for them to appear in this forest!

They couldn't even orient themselves in the forest.

How could they have stumbled upon their returning merchant caravan precisely when they were lost?

Explosive Wolf finally understood how several of his brothers had gone missing.

The facts defied common sense.

But there was no time to think.

In his haste, Explosive Wolf grabbed the merchant and his servants, who had fled in terror from the roar of the fireball spell, and stared into Melard's eyes, ordering:

"Use the eye on your shoulder to lead us back!"

"Mercenary, watch your--"

Hus stepped forward, but before he could finish, Explosive Wolf punched him to the ground.

"Don't make me fucking repeat myself for the fucking second time!"

Melard was also panicked.

He was just an ordinary Noble, thinking this was a safe vacation, no different from previous years.

Not wetting himself now could already be considered courage:

"Okay, okay-- the town, the town... it's over there!"

He patted the bottled eyeball on his shoulder, and as it swirled and flew up, it headed towards the woods on the left.

Affected by the mist, this wasn't the "way back" they remembered, but Explosive Wolf wouldn't question a construct.

He called out to the brothers who could move.

As for the seriously injured...

He wished them luck:

"And New Star... damn it, where is he? Forget it, everyone follow me!"

The giant shadow in the mist moved slowly, and only the war cries of the orcs were getting closer, meaning they still had a chance to escape.

As for the New Star he mentioned, who had disappeared, he wasn't fleeing in a panic.

This young mage was rushing back to his private tent to retrieve his dimensional bag—

It contained some food, materials, and even all his research on spells.

It also included a third-ring spell, which was key to his future advancement.

He was a scholar; knowledge was his most precious possession and could not be lost.

That tent was deliberately set up far away. As long as he could remain hidden and the mist concealed him, there would be enough time...

This wasn't wishful thinking, but rather New Star's calculation of the horde's movement speed and his own resources and leg strength.

It was like a well-formed formula.

The answer was "Retrieve the dimensional bag and leave safely."

Listing all known elements and analyzing them would naturally lead to a perfect result matching the answer.

Unless.

There was a factor he had overlooked—

When New Star burst into the tent and saw his belongings neatly stacked, he first breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the two prisoners had apparently avoided the fireball and hadn't reached the tent yet.

Without delay, he quickly went to pick up the dimensional bag in the corner and the rare curved saber.

But then he realized:

"The saber is gone?"

This meant someone had already broken into the tent...

"Not good!"

He exclaimed and was about to turn and flee.

"Thwip—"

A pitch-black curved saber suddenly pierced his chest.

"Human, destruction!"

The sinister and enraged roar of a kobold echoed in his ears.

"My treasure!"

Spellcasters have always been vulnerable when enemies get close.

Let alone a spellcaster whose ring positions are depleted.

New Star fell to the ground, a wave of exhaustion washing over his entire body.

He realized death was imminent, and fear caused him to tremble uncontrollably.

Once upon a time, he too had envisioned his own death.

He imagined himself writing legends on his adventures, dying with grace.

He imagined himself growing old and dying from the erosion of time on his path of study.

But he had never imagined he would die at the hands of a kobold—

They were so weak.

Their scales should have been ground into powder, becoming insignificant spellcasting materials in his hands.

What was even more ridiculous was that he couldn't even remember when he had destroyed this kobold's treasure.

In his eyes, treasure was treasure.

It was a marvel, magic, knowledge.

Not a stick.

Just as Kuru didn't understand why the treasure it cherished was worthless in others' eyes.

New Star would also never understand why a kobold would consider this worthless staff so important.

Because he didn't understand, he didn't care.

So when the outcome went awry, this knowledgeable tactician.

The New Star in the eyes of adventurers.

Couldn't even realize that the overlooked key...

...was fatal.

The young mage stared blankly, his eyes perhaps never to close in peace.

His breath dissipated in confusion, until he met the end of his life in unwillingness.

The kobold cautiously struck the corpse, and after confirming it was dead, it grabbed the dimensional bag and prepared to leave.

Outside the tent, however, a dispute suddenly erupted—