Weisar paced nervously around the caravan, pretending to inspect his mercs' preparations. A leader couldn't be seen fretting, lest it unsettle his men. That said, he could only check so many things around the convoy before betraying his nervousness—if it hadn't been revealed already. He'd known many of these men and women for a long time, so he wouldn't be too surprised if most had already picked up his restlessness.

Thankfully, his brooding was broken by a scuttling near the front of the caravan. People, including Davon, were conglomerating there—a perfect excuse for Weisar to move his body. He found standing still uncomfortable—probably why he wasn't cut out for military service. All that standing in lines, waiting for orders had never meshed well with him.

Dashing to the commotion, he found the group of adventurers returning—no, just the elves. The woman—barely more than a girl, honestly—with the weird, living armor wasn't with them.

"Davon—what's going on?" he said, arriving at the edge of the group.

"Ah, Mr. Weisar, the adventurers were just explaining—" Davon started.

"We have spotted a Nashiin ambush party," the elegant elf—Ithshar, if he wasn't mistaken—said. "They plan to lie in wait a couple journeys up the road and ambush the caravan as it passes.

"Julia remained behind to deal with their base of operations, while we will handle the ambush party. Please maintain your defensive position, and prepare to retreat to the city should any Nashiin appear.

"We will defeat the ambushers, but we cannot count on this being their only presence in the area."

"The kid's gonna deal with their base by herself? Is that wise?" Weisar asked.

To his surprise, the party didn't seem concerned. The younger, stout elf woman chuckled, the quiet and severe-looking one actually smiled—which Weisar hadn't seen him do thus far—and the good-natured one laughed openly.

"She will be fine," Ithshar assured with a small smile. "Regardless, we cannot wait—we must depart. The Nashiin may move on the caravan directly if we take too long, and they realize their ambush will not succeed."

The elves turned to set off, but Weisar stopped them.

"Wait a minute, if you please," he called, the elves stopping to look at him.

He turned and motioned some of his mercs over.

"Ari, you're in charge. Keep everyone sharp and defensive. If you spot any undead, begin an organized, fighting retreat toward Vazreth," he explained to his vice-captain.

"Cap, we're days from—" she started.

"I'm aware, but it's the closest confirmed safe location. We don't know how many undead might be lurking around, so better to make a fighting retreat than assume that this group is alone and hunker down to weather it.

"Emile, Jorge, you're with me—we're going with the adventurers," he declared.

The elves glanced at each other before looking to Ithshar, who only shrugged.

"You have been adequately informed of the risks, Captain. We will respect your decision, but understand that we will have to work independently. There is simply no time to coordinate our squads to effectively work together," she said.

Weisar nodded and started forward.

"Great—you go off and take our best Tank and Duelist, why don't you? I'll just wait here, with our now considerably weakened force," Ari complained.

Weisar chuckled and waved over his shoulder, not looking back.

"I appreciate you allowing this. We guard this route regularly, so if there is a lingering threat, we should know what we're up against and how to face it," he explained.

Ithshar merely nodded and picked up the pace. The group ran at a light jog for about a journey in silence, anticipation for the approaching conflict building, before she spoke again.

"What we've identified is a rough estimate, so bear that in mind: twenty infantry with spears, and ten archers, all with sidearms—those are the rank-and-file. There are also twenty Ghûls, which I believe Julia described to you, that are not in a strict formation. They will likely move about the battlefield chaotically—you might think of them as shock troops, or perhaps berserkers.

"There is a Barrowlord with a guard of five Revenants. Those are commanders—the Barrowlord commands the troops, but the Revenants will also, should the need arise. This brings the total to six advanced units.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Our goal—our party's goal—will be to eliminate these advanced units as quickly as possible. Once the chain of command is broken, and there are no units left to inspire tactics in the lesser undead, they will revert to the shambling bones you are accustomed to. Our jobs will become much easier," Ithshar explained.

"Understood. My squad will intercept the troops, then," Weisar said more confidently than he felt.

Were these normal undead, the numbers wouldn't be alarming. Whether it was one or fifty shambling skeletons, it didn't really matter. They were uncoordinated, slow, and stupid.

Fifty of these 'troops' that operated like an organized infantry—that was far more intimidating for a squad of three, no matter how competent they all were.

"Be careful. As Julia said, do what you can to avoid taking hits—particularly from the Ghûls. Julia's method of healing their rot might be unpleasant, but I assure you ours will be even worse," Ithshar cautioned.

"You can heal it, though?" Weisar asked hopefully. Even if it was unpleasant, having healing would be a tremendous boon.

"No. Our method is not to heal but to remove the portion of your body harboring the corruption before it spreads," Ithshar replied flatly.

This did not inspire confidence in Weisar.

As they approached what he guessed was the two and a half journey mark, the elves began to converse among themselves.

"So, how are we getting to the Barrowlord's core?" the good-natured elf asked.

"I will handle it," Ithshar declared confidently.

"Are you certain? Out here, you do not have access to—" the well-built elf woman started.

Ithshar's body suddenly blazed with golden light. It bent and warped about her body, forming into spiky, transparent armor, and she gripped part of it like a handle, the tip forming into a large mace head.

"If you suspect I became formidable only after the Mother chose me, you are mistaken," Ithshar said with a small smile.

The muscular elf almost stumbled as she ran, an admiring look on her face, and her eyes glistening—was she in tears?

"We merely need to deal with the Revenants first so that we might engage the Barrowlord without interference," Ithshar said, ignoring or not noticing the fanaticism of the crying elf.

Weisar's attention was drawn to the horizon, where he could see a small spark against it. There was a reflection there, as though a mirror in the distance shone the sun's light back at them.

"Well, the plains have their advantages and disadvantages. We can see attackers for miles, but they can see us as well," the one-armed elf declared.

Armor, Weisar suddenly realized. The sun was glinting off the formation of undead's armor. He imagined they wouldn't have polished steel, but even dull iron could catch the sunlight. They stood in formation, blocking the road with a line of spears. As the elf had said, they must have spotted the group from journeys away, foregoing the ambush.

"Form up! Jorge, Emile—we're taking them head-on!" Weisar shouted.

The group shifted as they ran—Jorge leading, his large shield raised and pike aloft. Weisar was behind him, his hammer in his hand.

Emile was in the back, his smaller hammers still on his waist. He typically used a sword and a dagger, but at the mention of undead, he'd switched to weapons that could damage bone. Right now, however, he was loading stones into his sling.

As the distance closed, a primal noise built in Weisar's throat as the thrill of battle engulfed him.

Julia floated through the dirt corridor, a formless mist, completely invisible to both sight and mana. Surprisingly, the effect of constantly convincing the World's mana to ignore her was taxing—it was the first thing she'd found so far that could threaten her Level 75 Eidolon mana.

That said, it wasn't unmanageable. It was roughly equivalent to how invisibility used to drain her. Although, her current form had the slight disadvantage of being entirely composed of mana. If she ran low, she would literally lose mass with which to compose her body. She didn't really want to think about what the implications of that might be.

As she floated along the ceiling of the tunnel, just a stretch-or-so off the ground, she was surprised to find remarkably few undead. There were a few skeletons standing around, likely rendered impotent by the Barrowlord's and Revenants' departures, but little else.

Even more surprising was the tunnel itself. Its construction was similar to the previous Nashiin base she raided: carelessly carved, short, narrow, claustrophobic, made only of packed earth. However, rather than the tunnel meandering until it eventually arrived at a chamber, it ran completely straight and uninterrupted.

There were no side tunnels, nor even any twists or turns. It was truly like a tunnel meant for transportation rather than a base of operations.

As she reached the end, Julia was again surprised to be heading upward, the tunnel sloping steadily, heading for the surface. Julia knew this due to the daylight spilling down into the otherwise complete darkness.

She breached the surface, still hidden, and found herself in another copse of trees. This one was larger than the one at the other entrance, and rather than a small forest, this was merely a ring of trees surrounding a clearing filled with what looked like debris.

Wooden paneling, broken and tattered, littered the clearing. The grass was stamped down, as though trampled by many feet. However, as she inspected the ground, the footprints appeared far too deep and wide for skeletal feet. Unless the Barrowlord and Revenants were stomping around up here, this grass was laid flat by boots.

Accompanying all the wooden fragments were burlap sacks, metal fittings and nails, and various other detritus that Julia would expect to see among cargo crates and barrels.

Then it hit her: this was where they brought the cargo from the caravans they attacked. Of course—no one knew about the attacks, so they must ambush merchants while leaving little to no evidence behind.

That being the case, where did all the cargo go, and why were there fresh footprints at all?

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