Chapter 42: Bloodshine

The journey from Madiel Outpost to Musan Tyr wasn't long, allowing the villagers ample time to prepare for their departure. After a few days of packing, they soon arrived at the pine forest on the shore of Lake Musan Tyr, less than a day's journey from the city. Along the way, Panni was inquiring about the internal strife in Latheman: "In truth, this matter has little to do with us villagers in these remote lands. In reality..." The berserker, Sbynir, disdainfully curled his lip. After several days of interaction, they had become familiar with these outsiders. "It's just a bunch of folks sitting atop our heads, engaging in dog-eat-dog politics."

"Dog-eat-dog?" Panni coughed, somewhat incredulous.

"It's all about the succession of the Iron King," Sbynir elaborated. "The previous Iron King died of illness three years ago, leaving behind a son and a daughter. The Witch Council dislikes the prince and proposed that the princess inherit the throne, but the prince is a capable individual..."

Panni suddenly realized. The so-called Iron King was the nominal king of Latheman and also the chieftain of the berserker tribe. However, since four centuries ago, the succession to this position was no longer solely determined by bloodline but also by the opinion of the Witch Council. Because, in the eyes of the Witch Council, an uncontrollable chieftain of the berserker tribe was unsafe.

Now, this regulation evidently had its flaws, but one detail made Panni furrow his brow: "If this prince is so capable, why doesn't the Witch Council support him?"

"Because he has consistently opposed the Witch Council and is rumored to be consorting with malevolent creatures," Panni nodded silently. It seemed that such a dualistic form of governance, where religious organizations coexisted with the kingdom's political system, inevitably harbored conflicts. In light of this, the matter concerning the prince was indeed worth investigating.

"But do these matters concern us at all? We're only concerned with hunting, at most, and occasionally with the bald-headed bastards from the south and when they might come raiding. Then we just grab our weapons and fend them off. Thinking about the affairs of bigwigs is just a waste of brainpower!" Sbynir said, concluding his statement.

Upon hearing these words, Sean, being a Celt, felt embarrassed.

As noon approached, all the villagers, along with a dozen or so warriors, elders, witches, and paladins, settled down to prepare lunch. Panni sat beside a pile of embers, lost in thought, when he suddenly saw Sera approaching with a water pouch. "Master Sean, would you like some water?" she asked.

"Thank you," Panni smiled and nodded, observing Sera squatting beside him, her cheeks cradled in her hands. "Is there something on your mind?"

"N-nothing," Sera shook her head but made no attempt to change her posture.

"Then why are you looking at me?"

"Well, um... I don't think it's against the law..." Sera's face flushed red.

"You were saying something that day... forget it..." Panni muttered, bringing the water pouch closer to his lips, then suddenly became alert. "Where did this water come from?"

"It's lake water..." Sera said, her face suddenly paling, a trace of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Poisoned?"

Surrounding individuals, including the elder Ocrus, began to cough up blood. Even those who grasped their weapons found it difficult to stand steady.

Even the experienced paladins among them wore shocked expressions on their faces.

Most adventurers knew not to drink water from the wilderness indiscriminately. If there were spellcasters in the group, detecting the toxicity of water was essential magic. However, in reality, this first-level spell did not always prove effective, as was the case this time.

Fortunately, Panni had encountered this type of poison somewhere before.

"Enemy attack!"

The watchful berserkers began to roar furiously as several massive fireballs flew into the makeshift camp. Amidst the earth-shattering explosions, cries of despair filled the air!

Four crimson figures appeared in the sky, while over thirty black-clad individuals wielding blades emerged around the perimeter of the camp!

Panni recognized the tattoos on the bald heads of these individuals and felt his heart sink. Panic spread among those nearby as they exclaimed in horror, "Red Robe Mages?!"

"To our barbarian friends from the North, your journey has reached its end," the central figure in the red robe smiled chillingly. "Would you like to enter the lake on your own, or shall I escort you on your way?"

The group of people who drank the poisoned water lay pallid on the ground, their faces ashen. Those struck down by flames and toxins still moaned in agony. Several inadvertent spellcasters stumbled to the ground, while the berserkers and paladins, resilient as they were, managed to hold onto their strength. Sera noticed a few children near asphyxiation, their faces turning blue, froth spewing from their mouths, and felt a surge of shock when her attempts to mitigate the poison proved futile.

"This, uh, Miss Paladin, it's futile. Don't waste your efforts. If only we had known about this beforehand, we would have advised the Tyr Church not to meddle unnecessarily," the red-robed mage shrugged, a hint of resignation in his tone. "But it's too late now."

Sera, witnessing the agonizing deaths of several children, glared angrily at the red-robed mage in the sky. "You heartless fiends! How could you stoop so low?"

"The balance between us is moot. There's no such thing as cruelty in war," Elder Ocrus said calmly and solemnly. "Today's events, along with all the memories you've given us over these four centuries, will one day be repaid in full."

"Elder, it's not wise to speak empty words. By now, you must be unable to wield even a single spell. Even if you will one day pay for today's vengeance, you may not live to see that day, will you?" The group of red-robed figures chuckled mockingly.

Despair began to creep onto the faces of those who had not yet succumbed to the poison in the makeshift camp.

"Very well, but may I pose a query to you, venerable elder?" The elder surveyed the disarray around him, the warriors weakened by toxins lying haphazardly. He sighed inwardly, nodding somewhat resignedly. "While it may not be surprising for the crimson-robed mages to take advantage during the upheaval in Laisemann, it seems you were aware of our impending arrival."

"This query, esteemed elder, you may take with you to the underworld! Beware!" The crimson-robed mage suddenly widened his pupils. A glimmer appeared not far from his feet, bursting into a halo of light. All five crimson-robed mages were caught within this halo, and with just three faint sounds, the flight spells of three mages were instantly dispelled. They screamed as they fell to the ground dozens of feet below, turning into three puddles of flesh before the onlookers could react.

Panney discarded the scroll of dispel magic, now devoid of its inscriptions, and retrieved another scroll, swiftly beginning the incantation. While he had acquired many magical scrolls from the demi-plane, his own spellcasting abilities were limited. To achieve certain tactical effects, he could only rely on scrolls.

"This lad still possesses spellcasting abilities! Kill him!" The surviving two mages were both shocked and enraged. They quickly descended to the ground, abandoning their aerial positions. Initially, their flight was meant to intimidate and facilitate aerial bombardment, but they clearly hadn't anticipated someone being able to withstand the poison and inflict such significant harm upon them.

The surrounding black-clad assassins also appeared bewildered. After hesitating for half a second upon hearing the command, they rushed towards the camp. However, it was ample time for the mage to complete the guidance for the second scroll.

Boom!A wall of fire appeared in the path of the charging black-clad assassins. Caught off guard, several assassins were engulfed by the rising flames, causing chaos and panic among those behind them!Panney approached the elder's side, drawing forth a scroll of "Disease Suppression" and beginning the incantation.

The two incoming crimson-robed figures, their countenances shifting from gloom to brightness, likewise began to weave their spells. However, a wall of fire stretching dozens of feet clearly could not halt the assassins' charge. They circumvented the obstacle, circling around it, and charged towards the camp once more.

After all, in their eyes, there seemed to be only one remaining threat within the camp. Dealing with it did not seem particularly difficult.

"Hold them back!"

With the situation suddenly changing, and witnessing the three arrogant crimson-robed mages reduced to nothing but minced meat in a matter of moments, it seemed they also possessed the power to resist. Within the temporary camp, several robust warriors and holy knights, barely withstanding the onslaught of the toxins on their bodies, brandished their weapons and charged forward, colliding with the group of assassins!

The crimson-robed mages dispelled the firewall with their spells. Observing the scene within the camp, they waved their hands with a solemn expression. "Retreat."

A beam of light emanated from Panney's hands onto Elder Oukruss. Oukruss felt a surge of energy as the toxins within his body were suppressed. He too began to cast his spells, gathering rolling waves of heat around his body. Soon, ten massive fireballs flew into the retreating group of assassins, resulting in another deafening explosion!

A fifth-level spell, Flame Mark, cast by such a formidable spellcaster, was sufficient to turn the tide of battle. Moreover, Panney was concurrently suppressing the toxins within everyone's bodies with the same scroll. This surprise attack had effectively turned into a fiasco.

The foes swiftly fled, leaving the people lying powerless on the ground, gazing upon their fallen comrades with profound sorrow.

"We can no longer proceed; we must seek out a safe haven to take refuge," Oukruss surveyed the mournful camp with a sigh. "This spell can only suppress the toxin temporarily, but if we cannot find an antidote in due time, it will persist. If these assassins return to ambush us again, we will be in grave danger. We must locate a secure place to encamp and then proceed with the slow process of detoxification."

At this point, the elder cast a puzzled glance at Panney. "You did not drink the water just now. Are you familiar with this toxin?"

"The Silent Executioner; that is the name of this poison," Panney replied, noticing the elder's increasingly suspicious gaze and realizing his slip of the tongue. Hastily, he added, "I read about it in a book."

"A book?" The elder looked puzzled. The fact that a toxin, unrecognized by the elders of Laiserman who had been at odds with the Crimson Robes for centuries, could appear in "some book" from the Cormyr Magic Guild seemed rather odd.

Moreover, he also noticed that since the appearance of these crimson-robed mages, the mage from Cormyr seemed somewhat at odds, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly seemed amiss.

"How did these crimson robes find their way here?" Witch Serafine furrowed her brow.

"I think I understand..." Panney walked over to a fallen crimson-robed corpse, unveiling the robe to reveal a gaping hole on the left breast.

"The Heartless?" The onlookers drew in sharp breaths.

Those who knew more were even more astonished; this organization seemed to be at odds with the Saelians in their impression.

"More questions, I believe the lady will be pleased to answer for us." Panney remained silent, turning his head to the other side of Lake Musangtir, where a typical Laiserman witch wearing a mask rode a horse desperately, followed by several sword-wielding riders, obviously pursuing her.