Aftermath and Conversation

Once Ryan and Jelona had tidied up the traces of the battle, Ryan reached for the spatial bag at his waist, making a motion as if to store something, while in reality, he tucked the thief's corpse into his own demi-plane space.

Watching Ryan's actions, Jelona couldn't help but marvel; mages were truly the wealthiest and most extravagant profession in Faerûn, to think he would actually use a portable spatial bag for something as mundane as storing a corpse.

Facing Jelona's curious gaze, Ryan explained, "Sometimes, the dead are more useful than the living."

Jelona nodded. Since the assassin was the mage's spoils of war, how he handled it was his own business, and she had no intention of making an issue out of it.

Seeing her sensible reaction, Ryan felt a bit more favorably toward her. Although he knew she hadn't understood the true meaning behind his words, it didn't stop him from being satisfied with his teammate's quiet demeanor.

"Corpse Explosion, Undead Puppets, and the creation of Black Knights all require the bodies of the strong. Besides, this serves as evidence when I demand compensation from the Mages Guild. A crying child gets the milk; if I don't get several thousand Gold Talons for this corpse, you can bet I'll be making a scene at the Mages Guild entrance."

The unscrupulous mage was brewing a belly full of mischief, the smile at the corner of his mouth turning subtle.

As for his reputation? Ryan, who had finally obtained a second life, figured that was worth nothing.

Having finished all the trivial tasks, Ryan took out a pristine mage robe and once again concealed his handsome face beneath the hood.

Jelona watched the mage's actions, feeling somewhat puzzled. I've already seen everything, what's the point of hiding now?

Driven by curiosity, the half-elf ranger asked directly, "Why must you hide yourself?"

Logically, someone with such an extraordinary and refined appearance would be eager to showcase their charm on the world's stage, wishing for the eyes of the world to be upon them; Jelona had seen plenty of such young men during her adventures.

However, most were just self-important fools whom Jelona would disdain, let alone compare to this mage. Yet, he was low-key to the point of being overly cautious—was it really necessary?

To the half-elf's question, Ryan only replied indifferently, "In people's first impressions, they tend to revere a mysterious mage of unfathomable strength, whereas they pay little mind to a young boy. I don't want to attract unnecessary trouble because of my appearance."

Fair enough; Ryan's explanation was logical and sound, leaving Jelona with nothing to say. Yet, she suddenly realized that, without knowing it, she had developed a deep curiosity about this mysterious young mage, which was why she was so focused on his every move.

It's hard not to pay attention to such a powerful young mage, not to mention he's my companion for the journey ahead. The more I know, the better I can arrange things for the road, right? The beauty-obsessed half-elf silently excused herself in her heart.

Jelona returned to her usual capable self and asked with a smile, "You don't have a mount, do you? How about riding back with me on Mousse?"

"Mousse?" Ryan asked, puzzled.

"There, that's him." Responding to its master's call, the sturdy Black Panther bounded over, affectionately rubbing its large head against Jelona's body and licking the half-elf ranger's fair cheek with its tongue.

Jelona rubbed the big cat's head, patted its back, and swung herself up, looking at Ryan who was still standing nearby.

Ryan pondered for a moment. While the Fly spell was convenient for travel, the biting cold winds in the Northlands at night were truly unbearable. Since the half-elf ranger didn't mind, it would be rather pretentious for a grown man to be fussy.

"Alright, then I'll trouble you." Ryan agreed, following suit and swinging onto the Black Panther's back.

The sentient Black Panther let out a disgruntled "Awoo" and shot a peeved look at Ryan behind it. Jelona quickly soothed her animal companion, who was unhappy about having a stranger on its back.

"Hold on tight, I'm accelerating. Hey, what are you hesitating for? Hurry up and grab on! Wait, don't grab my belt, move your hands down a bit!" Amidst a flurry of chaos, the figures of the two people and one panther gradually faded into the distance.

By the time the two returned to the caravan, the entire battlefield had been mostly cleared. The surviving Orc warriors had been finished off one by one by the caravan's enraged guards, and all the corpses were buried in a newly dug pit. The weapons and equipment stripped from the bodies were loaded onto the spare wagons.

Fires still flickered on the field, burning through scattered debris and fabric, bringing a glimmer of light to this unexpected night.

The people in the caravan, who were busy cleaning up the battlefield and tending to the wounded, looked at the returning pair with joy, their eyes filled with delight, respect, and awe—a stark contrast to their usual fear.

In Faerûn, mages were deeply feared by the common folk due to their immense destructive power and various taboo magical experiments, though the fear often outweighed the respect. In some regions, commoners without talent viewed magic as something deeply ominous.

Yet, thanks to Ryan turning the tide in the crisis—virtually single-handedly helping the caravan defeat the brutal Orcs—the surviving guards and laborers had completely changed their impression of this powerful, mysterious mage.

Dressing suspiciously must just be a mage's hobby; the mysterious-looking mage is actually a reliable, good person. Most of the people in the caravan thought as much.

At this moment, however, a pale-faced Ryan had no energy to care about how others viewed him. Ryan never expected that, despite never suffering from motion sickness in his past life—whether it was speeding unicycles, bumpy three-wheelers, buses weaving through streets, or high-speed trains—he would actually get "panther-sick" after coming to this other world!

Ryan shakily climbed down from the stationary Black Panther, only feeling a sense of stability once his feet touched the solid earth, his pale complexion slowly returning to normal.

The Black Panther, crouching nearby, glanced at Ryan and let out a sneeze of disdain, mocking him wantonly.

Watching Ryan pretend to be normal and put on a brave face, Jelona couldn't help but chuckle softly. After spending time together, Jelona had figured out the temperament of this mysterious mage: his cold and mysterious exterior was just a protective umbrella to keep fools at bay. Once you got to know him, he was quite easy to communicate with and proved to be a reliable companion.

Hearing the laughter, Ryan shot a glare at the gloating half-elf. Your elven bloodline is so great, isn't it? Relying on the superior balance you trained in the complex forests to bully a sixteen-year-old comrade like me. When I have time, I'll make sure you experience the joy of high-altitude street racing.

After all, Ryan, who had inherited a fear of heights from his past life, had barely managed to overcome his terror before his first flight using the Fly spell. Even knowing he had the Levitation spell as a backup, he had been panicked inside during that first flight.

However, after experiencing the pleasure of flying freely and unrestrained in the vast, boundless sky, Ryan had completely fallen in love with the feeling.

At this time, the other two mercenaries, having tended to their wounds, also hurried over to ask about the escaped Orcs. In truth, the Dwarf shield-warrior, due to his stature and exquisite defensive techniques, had not suffered heavy injuries in the fight against the Orc captain. His beloved shield had been dented by the enraged captain during the battle, which pained him deeply.

The one with the truly serious injuries was the Barbarian, who had charged directly into the Orc crowd while in a frenzy. While he had wreaked havoc, he had also sustained several deep, bone-reaching wounds.

However, the Barbarian, with his Highland bloodline, was tough as nails. The frenzy ability inherited in his bloodline not only helped him fight more valiantly as the battle progressed but also helped him curb the worsening of his wounds. At this moment, the Barbarian, who had retreated from the battlefield, was wrapped in white bandages from head to toe. It looked severe, but it was really just a matter of quiet recovery; though, using his frenzy again within the next two months was unlikely.

"How is it? Were the remaining Orcs taken care of?" The Dwarf asked Jelona directly.

"I've already finished off all the remaining Orcs. We can catch our breath now; there's no need to worry about Orc reinforcements attacking later." Ryan took over the conversation, giving Jelona a wink as he did so.

"Ah, yes, that's right, the remaining Orcs have all been dealt with." Sensing Ryan's signal, Jelona hesitated for a moment before following his lead and answering the Dwarf.

The Dwarf looked suspiciously at the two exchanging glances, but ultimately didn't delve into the reason. As a straightforward Dwarf, he wouldn't doubt Jelona, a partner he trusted, he just felt the two were acting a bit strange.

Why are these two acting so weird? It feels just like the griffins back home during mating season. But whatever, Jelona is reliable enough, it's fine. The Dwarf felt he couldn't understand the complex glances and emotions between humans and elves; it was much simpler to communicate with other Dwarves.

Meanwhile, the simple-minded Barbarian was hugging his massive double-edged greatsword, grinning foolishly to himself as he tallied his spoils, completely oblivious to the conversation among the three.

After the four chatted for a moment, the caravan leader, Sphinx, hurried over. Upon meeting them, he bowed and thanked the mage among the four, "Master Ryan, thank you so much for your help! If it weren't for you, our caravan would likely have been wiped out. This is a small token of my appreciation, please accept it." With that, he handed a luxurious pouch inlaid with gold thread to Ryan.

Ryan understood that if he didn't accept it, Sphinx would only become anxious, fearing that the mage might abandon the caravan as a burden.

Therefore, he nodded and took the pouch, saying, "What are the caravan's losses? I've already dealt with the Orcs that fled earlier, so there won't be any other Orcs coming for a while. We must hurry and get through this stretch of the road."

Hearing this, Sphinx breathed a sigh of relief and replied, "Thanks to you, the caravan's losses aren't great. Four guards were sacrificed in the Orcs' first wave, and another five or six were killed or seriously injured in the subsequent fighting. Some laborers and slaves also fled the caravan during the battle and disappeared into the darkness; I suppose they won't be found again."

The Sphinx said, inwardly rejoicing. If he hadn't happened to meet the mage who hitched a ride before this trading run, he couldn't imagine how things might have turned out. Given the brutality of Orcs, the merchants would likely have met the same fate as the unlucky souls they'd encountered before. Truly, Lady Waukeen was watching over him.

"But fortunately, the carts and livestock used for hauling didn't suffer much damage. We'll tidy up for a bit, do a simple reorganization, and then we can set off again," the Sphinx continued.

"Mm, that's good. Then hurry and get it done. The sooner we're on our way, the better, to avoid any further complications," Ryan said to the Sphinx, whose face was a mixture of relief and flattery.

"I'll also go back and rest, to recover my spell slots for today."

Having spoken, Ryan walked towards his carriage. He paused as he passed the half-elf ranger, who had been staring at him since their conversation ended, and said in a low voice, "Come to my carriage in the morning. I'll explain then."