The Burning Night

The beach's revelry continued until nightfall, but Lanlos, who had left long ago, was spared the annoying noise.

The Strider tied off to one side kept pecking at its rope with its sharp beak. Their brief time together had clearly left it deeply traumatized, and it had never wanted freedom more than it did now.

Unfortunately, the carefully treated rope remained completely intact.

Nearby, Lanlos focused on the rabbit roasting over the fire, occasionally glancing at Ilana, who sat distracted in front of him.

It seemed the girl still couldn't stop worrying about Sores. Lanlos shook his head helplessly and held out a skewer of thoroughly cooked meat. "Don't worry. Sores isn't as much trouble as you are. I left plenty of signs along the way. I'm sure he'll catch up with us soon."

Ilana glanced gratefully at the young elf and took the meat, but had no appetite for it. "I'm just afraid that something might..."

Lanlos bit off a steaming piece of meat, but kept his attention on the darkness behind them. "I have to say, spying isn't a good habit."

While Ilana stared at him in confusion, a hearty laugh came from behind them. "Ha ha! Lance, you've really made me see you in a new light!"

The familiar face gradually came into focus. Sores scratched at his unruly hair, embarrassment slowly spreading across his face.

After all, in everyone's eyes, Lanlos had always been a sickly, down-and-out noble. Now, never mind his feat of intercepting a Shaman's Lightning Bolt with Fireball—he'd even spotted Sores's disguise without breaking a sweat. It was just... so embarrassing.

More importantly, the boy was now a spellcaster!

Seeing Sores's awkward smile, Lanlos knew exactly what he was thinking. "You're making me nervous with that smile."

"Heh heh." Lanlos's words made the ranger realize that this kid matched his old impression of him once again. That immediately put Sores more at ease.

"Sores!" Ilana threw caution to the wind and crashed into the ranger's arms. Unfortunately, she hit him right where he was hurt.

"Ugh!" Sores sucked in a sharp breath and nearly lost his footing. Seeing him like that, Ilana was at a loss. "W-what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Catching the worry in the girl's eyes, Sores waved a hand and concealed his injury. To keep her from asking questions, he changed the subject to Lanlos. "By the way, Lance, when did you become a mage?"

"This morning." Lanlos answered casually, focused on the food in his hands.

Sores looked unconvinced. "What? You're keeping secrets from me?"

"You became a mage less than a day ago, and you can already intercept that Shaman's Lightning Bolt? I served in the army for years. Even a middle-ranking spellcaster couldn't be sure of pulling that off. You really think I've never seen anything before?"

"Believe what you want." Lanlos couldn't be bothered to explain. After finishing his food, he stamped out the fire and headed toward the Strider.

They might have been a little reckless, but at least things had turned out all right. The three of them headed toward the village, bickering all the way. None of them could have guessed what danger awaited them.

Night was the perfect cover for murder, especially for Kergash.

Looking down from the hillside at the little village lit by magical streetlamps, the Darkpine chieftain wore a bloodthirsty smile. "These foolish elves can sleep soundly with defenses this flimsy? Heh... Remember, Tregra, don't let a single one escape."

"Of course." Running a hand over the sharp edge of his battle axe, the Amani Troll slowly straightened. "Boys, you're in for a feast tonight."

"Kill them all!" Tregra chopped through a tree beside him with one swing of his axe and let out a fierce battle cry. Like a green bolt of lightning tearing through the night, he charged first toward the peaceful, cozy village.

"Thaz'dingo!"

A dozen Forest Trolls roared as one. Blood and screams descended in an instant upon the remote elven village.

Meanwhile, Lanlos was thoroughly fed up with Sores and Ilana's questions. "You two really are made for each other. Why are you so interested in these little things? If you ask me, what you should be worrying about now is when you're getting married and how you're going to raise kids..."

At that, Ilana's cheeks instantly flushed crimson. She lowered her head without a word, but tightened her hold on Sores's arm. Her sweet, bashful look made anyone watching feel envious. As for Sores, his face was thick enough to make a bulletproof vest.

"Ahaha, there's no hurry. We've got plenty of time ahead of us..." Before he could finish, Sores suddenly jumped as if someone had stepped on his tail. "Ow! Why'd you pinch me?"

"Shameless..." Ilana glanced at Lanlos, who was riding the Strider. Apparently embarrassed to discuss such things in front of an outsider, she buried her face against Sores's chest.

Damn, couples who flaunt their love don't live long...

Lanlos rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared, then pretended not to see a thing. He reclined against the Strider's back, about to close his eyes for a nap.

"Caw! Caw-caw!" The Strider suddenly stopped, letting out a shrill, urgent call that pierced the air.

At almost the same moment, Sores stopped whispering with Ilana and looked ahead, his expression grave. The young elf did the same.

In the distant night sky, a crimson glow lit up the horizon...

"Too weak! You're all too weak!" Wielding a pair of hand axes, Tregra seemed to have become the god of death. He left afterimages all around the militia, and every time he swept past an enemy, blood sprayed high into the air.

It was a one-sided battle! A massacre!

The Golden Branch Village militia usually did little more than drive off Murlocs. They needed help just to deal with a level-two Shaman. Against these elite Amani warriors, they had no chance!

Worse still, Kergash and his Warlocks were there.

"Quick! Tell the village chief we need to evacuate—"

Thwack!

Before the messenger could finish speaking, a finely crafted standard-issue sword pierced his chest. Seeing the familiar design etched into it, he fell into the blood-soaked dirt, stunned and disbelieving.

Beside him, Nicole pulled the blade free without a trace of emotion.

"That's right, just like that. Heh heh." The dim air behind him blurred, and Alisa's graceful figure swiftly appeared. Her petite arms wrapped around the veteran's waist, her hot breath brushing his ear. "You're a Warrior, not a nursemaid to the old and weak... Anger. Use that fire to burn everything away..."

With her extraordinary charm, Alisa had ensnared the only fighter in Golden Branch Village capable of resisting the Trolls. At her urging, the stern and dutiful militia captain turned his blade against his own people.

"Yes, right here. Nar can smell it—Fel, a different kind of soul..." A small imp kept shouting toward the tower ahead, so excited he nearly threw the Fireball in his hand.

Behind him, a hunched Troll stepped out of the shadows.

Kergash stretched out his withered hand. As he spoke in a low, obscure voice in Demonic, chaotic and evil energy rapidly gathered before him.

The energy twisted and spun ahead, quickly forming a vortex of swirling green and black. It gave off a sense of filth. "Go. Find him. I want him alive."

"Roar!" A terrifying growl came from the portal, followed by a streak of black that shot through it.

A dog? No! A Felhound!

Its rough, lava-like hide was covered in black barbs. Its huge, fanged maw took up nearly a third of its body, while massive horns and tentacles jutted out above its dangerous, crimson eyes. How could anyone describe such an ugly monster? One look was enough to make children scream—and most spellcasters run for their lives.

That was because the Felhound's tentacles were no mere decoration. They could devour magic and burn away the mana inside a spellcaster's body. The more powerful the mage, the more terrible the damage.

Before long, the Felhound broke down the door and clamped its jaws around one of Fergus's calves. It dragged him all the way to Kergash, leaving blood across the floor. Astonishingly, the old man didn't let out so much as a groan.

"Is it him?" Kergash glanced at the white-haired old man and asked the imp by his feet.

The long-eared little monster hopped over to Fergus. After a brief silence, it shook its head. "No. Nar can confirm that this old man in front of Nar isn't the master's target."

"Then keep looking!" The whole village was engulfed in flames, and yet they still hadn't found the most important piece of the plan. Kergash grew more and more restless and uneasy.

"Beast!" Blood kept flowing from the ghastly wound in his calf. Fergus struggled to rise from the pool of blood, his resentful eyes fixed on Kergash, making the Troll's skin crawl.

But that wasn't what caught Kergash's interest. This old man could speak Troll Language?

"How interesting. From what I know, you elves are so high and mighty that you refuse to learn Troll knowledge." Smiling faintly, Kergash slowly approached the old man, who was barely breathing. "What, you don't look down on it?"

"Only by understanding your enemy can you defeat him. You monsters will never understand the noble Quel'dorei!" It was hard to imagine that the kind old man could look so ferocious. If looks could kill, Kergash would already be riddled with holes.

But that was only a fantasy...

"Heh heh, I've learned something, then. But unfortunately, your so-called understanding is only skin-deep." His demonic servant seemed to have found something and kept shouting excitedly in the room. Kergash stopped paying attention to the old man and turned to leave. "You should be glad I don't care for the taste of old men."

Hiss!

The Felhound that had just been summoned appeared before Fergus once more, disgusting drool dripping from its fearsome maw.

"But it's different. It isn't picky..."

"Ah—!"