"What's going on? What's going on?" At the head of the column, the patrol captain looked around uneasily.
"I... I don't know," the soldier who had shouted earlier said quietly, ducking his head. "Every time we pass this cave entrance, my scalp starts prickling, like someone inside is watching us."
"If you don't know, why are you making a fuss?" the captain snapped angrily. "The people in that cave belong to the Cult of the Damned. They're allies!"
To be honest, he didn't like this place either, nor did he like those figures in black mage robes who looked neither human nor ghost.
What was more, those Cult of the Damned members had even brought some genuinely ghostlike things along to fight.
Once, while patrolling this area, the captain had personally seen a ghoul missing an arm follow a cultist into the cave.
"Damn it!" The thought made him shudder, and he quickened his pace without thinking.
"Keep up!" he barked again.
In truth, they needed no urging. None of the patrol members wanted to spend even another second near this cave.
They soon left the cave behind and turned onto a small patch of level ground beside a grove.
Once they had skirted halfway around the grove, they would reach the path back to their camp, and tonight's patrol would be successfully concluded.
But just then, someone appeared in front of them.
Someone wearing a black mage robe.
A cultist?
The captain raised his torch, casting its light ahead to get a better look.
The figure revealed by the torchlight was indeed a cultist. But as he met the captain's gaze, something resembling a fireball began forming in each of his hands.
Unlike ordinary fireballs, both balls of flame were shrouded in a layer of black shadow.
"You... what