Today, the sun looked slightly dim, almost as if its light had weakened just a touch. As crazy as it sounded, the whole world felt a shade darker. The chatter inside my wagon had become nearly unbearable for my ears.

I could not hear anything from the front of the caravan anymore, because Northern Wolf's booming voice drowned out every other sound. My sensitive ears burned from the constant noise. This giant bear-man truly did not know how to keep his mouth shut.

"We are close to the last town. Get ready to scout. We need at least thirty more people in this place. It is one of the biggest towns where adventurers gather right before the Citadel of the Lionheart." Rovan's voice cut through the rhythm of the horse hooves.

I glanced up at him, but he did not look back from the driver's seat. He simply followed the wagons ahead of us, focused entirely on the road.

Citadel of the Lionheart. I did not remember it. Was it ever mentioned in the book? I tried to pull at whatever scraps of memory might still be hiding in the back of my mind, hoping for even a single clue, but nothing came. Either it was never written, or my memory was betraying me again.

But now was not the time to wonder about places I would not even reach. What mattered was the town in front of us and how quickly we could gather the people we needed.

The sooner we finish here, the sooner I can move toward my real goal.

I braced my hand against the corner of the wagon and leaned my body out to look ahead. A large town stretched across the horizon, far grander than anything I expected. Its walls were built from thick marble blocks, gleaming faintly even under the dimmed sun. It did not look like a simple adventurer town.

It resembled a fortress, a defensive bastion carved straight into the land, with a massive castle rising in the center like a watchful beast.

Calling this a town felt like an understatement. It looked more like a stronghold preparing for war.

The Shadowlands were close, but unlike the demon continent, they never attacked. They simply sat there in silence. Some people said it was even more frightening that way, like having a powerful wolf stalking you from the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Perhaps that was why this entire region became a popular place to build towns like forts and strongholds, just in case the armies of the undead ever decided to change their mind.

Quiet enemies are always the worst. You never know when they will move.

The moment we entered the town, the noise hit us like a wave. Clanging metal, horses snorting, merchants yelling over the crowd, dozens of adventurers boasting about their last glorious missions that were probably nothing more than glorified rat hunts.

This place was alive in a way the other towns never were.

It almost made me forget we were gathering people for a mission that would most likely get half of them killed.

Slowly, the horses came to a stop, and soon enough, we all gathered outside, splitting into groups.

Northern Wolf stretched his shoulders beside me, cracking his knuckles loudly as if preparing to wrestle the entire town into submission. Elira walked on my other side, eyes wide with fascination, soaking in every detail. The girl never hid her emotions, even when she tried. That was something I secretly envied.

Rovan had already slipped away to find Scar like a good lapdog, completely unaware that he had walked straight into his own death. The rest of us had only one task. Scout for fighters. Strong ones. The kind who did not die in the first ten seconds of battle.

"Remember," I said as we moved deeper into the town, "thirty people at least. Preferably, thirty with brains and functioning arms."

Northern Wolf laughed, far too loudly as always. "Ha. You say that as if brains are easy to find in a place like this."

He wasn't wrong. I saw more drunks than warriors in the first minute.

But this place was different. The giant castle cast a long shadow over every building, and that kind of monument had a way of attracting ambitious fools. If we were lucky, some of those fools would at least know which end of a sword to hold.

We moved through the marketplace, weaving through crowds. The moment we mentioned "good payment," half the men perked up like dogs smelling meat. But after I asked them to demonstrate something, anything, their enthusiasm died fast. One man even tripped over his own sword and nearly cut his boot off.

How do these people even survive two days of adventuring? I shook my head, thinking that Scar was impressive in his own twisted way. In the book he managed to gather all these people on his own.

We spent over an hour searching, testing, and rejecting more than we accepted. Elira found a group of twin archers with decent aim. Northern Wolf convinced a giant man named Sabertooth to join by challenging him to arm-wrestling, and as one would suspect, Northern Wolf won quite easily. That alone made half the bystanders want to sign up, convinced they were witnessing legends.

Bit by bit, the numbers increased.

A robed man with glowing tattoos demonstrated lightning magic that carved a line through the dirt. Two shieldbearers showed impressive coordination. A brawler with scarred knuckles smashed a stone block with one punch. A quiet swordswoman sliced three hanging leaves in half without touching the stems.

Slowly, the group grew stronger.

Twenty people. Twenty-one. Twenty-five.

We were getting there.

Elira tugged my sleeve gently, pointing to a group practicing martial forms in a courtyard. Their footwork was precise, steady, controlled. They were obviously trained. We recruited five out of the group. Now we had thirty. Our quota was met, but we stayed searching a little longer, just in case we found something better.

Beelzebub was not with me today. Elira had dragged him away minutes earlier, claiming he needed sunlight. I knew all too well she probably wanted to pamper him by feeding him snacks. Maybe that was a mistake. Both because a familiar presence would have helped me keep my guard up in this place, and because I would probably have to deal with a sick hamster later before the battle. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it.

We walked through what looked like the busiest part of town, a narrow street packed with people rushing in both directions. Merchants, guards, adventurers, pickpockets, and idiots who thought they owned the road. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the white marble. The castle towered above everything, its spires catching the fading light.

A strange pressure sat in the air, thin but present. A reminder that we were one step away from the Shadowlands.

Northern Wolf stepped ahead, motioning that he would scout an alley with potential fighters.

And for a moment, I was alone. I loved that feeling. Do not get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with people, but even my social battery runs dry sometimes.

I moved through the crowd, keeping my pace steady as I scanned for potential recruits. I knew that the stronger the people I gathered, the easier it would be for me to slip away once the chaos began.

I squeezed through two merchants blocking the path, stepped around a crate of apples, and turned sharply when someone bumped my shoulder.

I bumped them back, harder than I meant to. "Oh, sorry," I began, catching my balance. The woman in front of me lifted her head. And in that moment, my breath froze in my throat.

Her hair was tied back today, long and golden like the sun. Her features were sharp but extremely beautiful, eyes bright with the kind of confidence that came from surviving things most people ran from. A sword rested at her hip, and the aura around her felt like coiled steel ready to spring.

She blinked at me once, twice. She doesn't recognise me...

Well, of course. I looked different now.

"Watch where you are going," she said calmly, her voice steady and firm in a way that warned people not to test her patience.

I swallowed.

Hera...

Of all people to run into here. And she had no idea who I was.

The crowd pushed around us, two currents splitting around a rock, but for a moment the noise faded. Her gaze met mine, assessing me briefly before she stepped aside to continue walking.

Fate brought her here. Or disaster did.

If she recognized me, everything would unravel. If she did not, then I had one chance to decide what came next.

She brushed past me. My fingers curled at my side. Do not react. Not yet. Not here. Our shoulders brushed one last time as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

My heart knocked once against my ribs, a heavy warning. A fateful encounter or the beginning of another catastrophe?

Either way, Hera was here. And nothing about the mission would remain simple from this point on. I had a bad feeling the story was about to twist again. She was never supposed to appear in this area. Not once. Not ever. That meant only one thing.

She would likely join the other Holy Knights in secret and escort the Qillin bones back to the capital.

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