"Let us get some sleep today. Staying here for long might not be a good idea, especially with those nobles around. Let me go and update the other girls on the plan, and then we'll leave in the morning."

--------------

The next morning, they saw their opportunity almost immediately. A dozen massive, six-wheeled wagons were being loaded with crates of iron ore and salted fish. A grizzled man with a thick, grey beard and a no-nonsense expression was shouting orders at a group of weary-looking teamsters. There was a man shouting that they were headed to Highwind and were looking for mercenaries.

"That's our ride," Riku said.

He walked up to the man with a confident posture. He was a mercenary captain again. "Excuse me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Are you the master of this caravan?"

The man turned. He looked Riku up and down. He saw a tough, capable-looking man. He saw four equally tough-looking women standing behind him. "I am," the man grunted. "What do you want?"

"I hear you're heading west, towards Highwind," Riku said.

"We're going as far as the port city of Wind's Crest," the master replied, his eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"

"My associates and I are looking for passage," Riku said. "We're a mercenary group. We're escorting a client to Silverwood." He jerked a thumb towards Aurelia, who stood slightly behind him, her face a mask of nervous neutrality.

"We're willing to offer our services as guards in exchange for safe passage for our group and our client," Riku continued. "We'll take half the standard rate."

The caravan master stared at him for a long, silent moment. He looked at Riku. He looked at the four women. He looked at Aurelia. He was a man who had spent his life on the dangerous roads of Eldoria. He knew the value of skilled swords. And he knew a good deal when he saw one.

"You're hired," he said finally, a slow, calculating grin spreading across his face. "Be here by 12 noon. We leave right after lunch. Don't be late."

He turned and went back to shouting orders at his men.

The deal was done.

They spent the rest of the day buying supplies. They bought new, practical travel clothes. They bought bedrolls. They bought enough rations for last them for the journey.

At 12, they returned to the group, which was almost ready to leave. The Salt-Stained Caravan, as it was known, was already a hive of activity.

The caravan master saw them approach. He grunted a greeting and pointed to one of the wagons near the back. "You ride there. Keep your eyes open. The road to Wind's Crest is not a friendly one."

Riku nodded. He and his group found their place among the other guards and travelers. They were just a few more anonymous faces in a long, slow-moving train.

And Riku and his group intended to keep it that way and stay out of trouble.

The journey was long and monotonous. For five days, the Salt-Stained Caravan rumbled along the dusty roads of Eldoria. The landscape was a repeating canvas of grey rock and windswept plains under a perpetually overcast sky.

Riku sat in the driver's seat of one of the rear wagons. Lila sat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, dozing lightly. In the back of the wagon, Aurelia was fast asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the last few weeks.

He watched the slow, rhythmic sway of the wagon in front of them. The peace was a welcome change. But it was a fragile peace. He knew it would not last.

System, he thought, his mental voice quiet. This world... it's not the one I remember from the game.

A blue panel shimmered in his mind.

[Correct, Host. The world has expanded beyond the original parameters of 'EverRealm Online'. New kingdoms, new powers, and new threats now exist.]

It's too much, Riku admitted, a wave of weariness washing over him. I came here for a quiet life. Now I'm tangled in the politics of two kingdoms and a core empire. I'm fighting dark lords and holy legions. This isn't peace.

[The path to a peaceful life is not always a peaceful one,] the System replied. [To secure your long-term objective, you must first understand the variables. The only way to learn more about this world is to continue exploring it.]

The panel flickered. A new line of text appeared. It felt different from the usual clinical statements. It felt... like a warning.

[Be prepared, Host. You will need to be strong for what is to come.]

Before Riku could ask what it meant, the panel vanished.

At that exact moment, a strange silence fell.

The rumbling of the wagon wheels seemed to quiet. The creaking of the harnesses grew muffled. The quiet chatter of the other travelers faded away, as if a thick blanket had been thrown over the entire world.

Riku's head snapped up. He looked around.

A thin, black wisp of smoke drifted across the road in front of them. It was followed by another. Then another. It was not smoke from a fire. It was too thick. Too oily.

The caravan master, a few wagons ahead, shouted. "What is this? A fog?" His voice was a muffled, distant sound, as if it were coming from the bottom of a deep well.

The wisps of smoke began to merge. They formed a low-lying bank of thick, unnatural black mist. It did not roll in from the horizon. It seemed to bleed out of the very air itself. It swirled around the wagons, thick and silent, swallowing all sound.

"I can't see a thing!" one of the other mercenary guards yelled, his voice filled with panic.

"It's just fog!" another shouted, though his voice trembled. "It'll pass!"

He drew his sword and charged into the mist. "See? Nothing to be afraid of!"

His sword passed through the black mist as if it were smoke. But then, he screamed.

It was a short, sharp, agonizing sound.

He stumbled back out of the mist. His eyes were wide with horror. He held up his sword.

The steel blade was melting. It dripped from the hilt like black, molten wax, sizzling as it hit the dusty ground.

"My sword!" he shrieked. "It's... it's melting!"

Another guard, seeing his comrade's terror, let out a defiant roar. He charged into the mist, his own blade held high. "Cowards! It's just a trick!"

He swung his sword wildly. It passed through the mist. And then, it too began to dissolve. The guard stared in horror as his weapon turned to black sludge in his hands.

Panic erupted. The other mercenaries stared at their useless weapons. The teamsters tried to calm their spooked horses. The caravan was trapped. They were surrounded by an enemy they could not see, could not fight.

The commotion woke the two sleeping girls. Lila sat up, her eyes wide with alarm. "Riku? What's happening?"

Aurelia peered out from the back of the wagon. She saw the swirling black mist. She saw the terrified faces of the mercenaries. She saw the melting swords.

Riku looked at the impossible, corrosive mist. He looked at the terrified faces of the people he was supposed to be protecting.

He thought of the System's sudden, cryptic warning.

A cold, heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. This was not a random bandit attack. This was not a political squabble.

This was something else entirely.

Just then, a new voice cut through the unnatural silence. It was not a shout. It was a calm, conversational tone, yet it carried an authority that made every man in the caravan freeze.

"There you are."

The black mist swirled. It parted. A figure stood in the middle of the road, not twenty paces from Riku's wagon.

He was a tall man, enshrouded in darkness. It was not a cloak or an illusion. The shadows themselves seemed to cling to him, obscuring his features, his armor, everything. He was a hole in the world, a silhouette of pure night.

The voice, amused and patient, spoke again.

"It took me long enough to find you."

Lila grabbed Riku's arm. Her knuckles were white. "Riku, no," she whispered, her voice filled with fear. "Don't go out there. That thing... it's not human."

Riku gently placed his hand over hers. "It's alright, Lila," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Stay in the wagon. Protect Aurelia."

He swung himself down from the driver's seat. He landed silently on the dusty road.

Before he could take a step, two of the other mercenary guards, their fear overcome by a desperate bravado, let out a roar.

"For Eldoria!" one of them shouted.

"Die, you shadow-spawned demon!" the other yelled.

They charged. They ran straight at the silent, shadowy figure. They swung their swords with all their might.

Their blades passed straight through the man's form. It was like cutting through smoke. There was no resistance. No impact.

The shadow man did not even seem to notice.

He slowly raised a single, gloved hand. He waved it, a lazy, dismissive gesture, as if shooing away a fly.

The two mercenaries screamed.

"Melting... We are melting... save us!!"

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