Chapter 20: Everyone Starts Off Naive

The campfire cast its final flickering light over the forest. Only four figures remained near the fire, sprawled out in exhaustion. Esis and the old man were lying there motionless, as though dead. Their physical strength was drained, their magic depleted, and, most of all, the mental strain had pushed them to their absolute limits. Even if someone were to stab them twice in the rear, they might not wake up immediately.

The other two figures were the young man Yabin and the druid Anderson, both appearing to sleep just as deeply.

The rest of the group, including Hilika and Hilton, were not by the fire. Although just as tired—if not more so, given their exertion in the life-and-death battle earlier in the day—they chose not to rest near the warmth of the campfire. These seasoned fighters, accustomed to survival through battle and bloodshed, were like wildcats, instinctively avoiding showing their unguarded selves to people they'd only met a day ago. They knew this sleep would be heavy and left them vulnerable. Each of them chose to sleep at a distance of tens to hundreds of meters from the fire, maintaining a degree of separation while still close enough to respond to danger. Jessica, the female warrior, had chosen to rest in a tree nearby.

An hour had passed since they began resting—typically the time when sleep was at its deepest.

Suddenly, one of the figures near the fire turned slightly, mumbling something in their sleep. The three others showed no reaction, remaining completely motionless.

After a while, the figure shifted again, moving their body and making a louder noise. The firelight illuminated their face—it was Yabin. He likely hadn't exerted himself much during the day's battle, which left his sleep somewhat restless. Yet, the three others continued to sleep soundly, undisturbed.

Yabin's eyes slowly opened to a narrow slit. He turned over, and then, all at once, opened them fully. They were devoid of sleep, as sharp and alert as if he'd just taken an icy bath. Slowly, he sat up, looking around at the three still-asleep figures. Then, moving cautiously, he stood. Every movement was slow and deliberate, utterly silent. He carefully surveyed the surroundings before quietly heading off in a particular direction—the one where the unnamed man and the female knight were.

The forest at night was anything but quiet. A symphony of insect chirps and the occasional noises of nocturnal animals created a lively backdrop. However, Yabin knew that even the slightest sound out of place—such as the distinct noise of human footsteps amidst the underbrush—could easily rouse these individuals. Even in deep sleep, their instincts remained razor-sharp.

The short distance felt agonizingly long as beads of sweat began to form on Yabin's forehead. Finally, after weaving around several trees, he spotted the female knight.

She was bundled up like a sack, stuffed into a large bag and tossed onto a pile of grass. Her head, protruding from the bag, was streaked with blood and dirt, making her look pitifully disheveled. Yet, even in her current state, the clarity of her features—bright, well-defined, and beautiful—stood out in the moonlight. She seemed pale but alive. Her life wasn't in immediate danger; the magical Glory Armor she wore would automatically trigger the spell Phoenix Rebirth to preserve her life if it became critical. While the magic might not be as miraculous as when wielded by the cardinals, it was enough to maintain the bare minimum of life.

Despite this, she remained unconscious. Back in the cellar, the man who captured her had struck her neck several times with precision, delivering blows so deftly calculated in strength and position that Hilton and the others were awestruck. Beyond that, Yabin suspected the man had also used some minor magic—a subtle, peculiar curse. These combined effects were enough to keep the female knight unconscious for several days.

Yabin had found the female knight, but instead of relief, his nerves tightened further. The man who had captured her was nowhere to be seen.

Yabin strained his senses, scanning and listening intently. There was no unusual sound or sign in the surroundings. He couldn't understand why the knight would be left alone here, with the man nowhere nearby.

Perhaps the man had something else to do? Maybe he had abandoned the knight here temporarily to rest elsewhere... Whatever the reason, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Gritting his teeth, Yabin continued toward the knight, quickening his pace. At this point, there was no turning back.

To be honest, he knew what he was doing was extremely risky—some might even call it foolish. Even the slightest unexpected development could spell doom. Everyone here was a stone-cold killer, and their energy seemed inexhaustible. But the surge of emotion in his chest made it impossible for him to leave this woman to her fate.

He had thought he could harden his heart to do anything for the thousand gold coins. But then Hilton had vividly described what they planned to do to the knight—how they would violate her. His words, dripping with grotesque anticipation, were like two fat, wriggling red maggots oozing filth. The lewd tone of his voice, the grotesque contortions of his face, the way he gasped with perverse excitement... It was as if Yabin could already see Hilton, reeking of foul breath, writhing and panting over the struggling woman.

Yet, this woman had once been so radiant, beautiful, and valiant. The stark contrast between the two visions churned Yabin's stomach until he nearly vomited. He had to suppress the urge to cleave Hilton's face in half with his sword.

Although Elder Relas had never slackened in his teachings since Yabin was young, he had never truly been a devout believer. It wasn't until this moment that he realized how powerful those confessional words and prayers—words he had once thought utterly tedious—could be. He couldn't help but kneel and pray. He didn't know, nor did he care, whether any deity would hear his voice. He just needed those pious words to drown out the screams that could erupt at any moment.

When he finally learned that the woman was temporarily safe, he felt both relieved and utterly exhausted. He had never felt so drained before. A thought emerged in his mind: to find an opportunity to release the woman.

But he quickly dismissed the idea himself. Whether it was the thief leader or the mysterious man, either could kill him on the spot the moment they discovered his intentions. Even if he succeeded, what about the thousand gold coins? Without that money, how would he take his sister across the continent seeking treatment?

Yet, during his conversation with the druid, a new idea had suddenly occurred to him—saving the knight might actually be a shortcut to achieving his goal. Although the chances were slim and the risks high, the impulse in his heart made it irresistible. Today's battle must have left these people exhausted. They hadn't yet regrouped with the other thieves, and they were resting separately... This was undoubtedly an opportunity.

Perhaps there was another reason, one even Yabin himself hadn't realized: he didn't want to delay any longer. He had no idea when those men might act on their vile intentions toward the woman. So, in the dead of night, while everyone else was deeply asleep, he crept quietly toward her. He had to save her.

With Purification silently forming in his hands, ready to be cast on the knight, Yabin suddenly noticed an indentation in the pile of hay beside her. It was clearly the imprint of someone who had been lying there. He couldn't help but reach out and touch it. His body froze instantly, like a statue.

The hay was dry, but it still retained the warmth of a human body.

The night wasn't particularly hot, and for the warmth to linger, the person must have left no more than five minutes ago—almost the exact time Yabin had begun his stealthy approach.

"I thought you'd be more patient," a voice softly sounded behind him. "And let me tell you, if you wake this woman up in her current state, she'd rouse every sleeping pig within a mile."

It took Yabin immense effort to slowly turn his head. He saw, just a few steps behind him, the mysterious man standing there like a ghost. In that moment, it felt as though every pore on Yabin's body had turned to ice.

It was still that unremarkable face, the kind that would disappear into a crowd in an instant. The expression was as indifferent and emotionless as always, resembling the face of a long-dead corpse. Under the pale moonlight, it looked even more ghastly.

Yabin's hand instinctively twitched toward the hilt of his sword at his waist. But he didn't draw it. If he truly fought, he had no chance of winning—not even the possibility of escape.

"Even if you want to save her, you should at least have proper preparation, a detailed plan, or a carefully designed distraction to divert our attention and create an opportunity for yourself. I didn't expect you to act rashly, thinking this was your chance just because we're resting separately. I'm disappointed. From your performance in the cellar, I had thought you were better than this," the man said, his voice as cold and lifeless as his face. "And your observation and awareness are sorely lacking. Did you know? From the moment you began walking toward here, if I wanted to kill you, you'd have died a hundred times over."

Yabin didn't remain in his rigid posture for long. Slowly, he turned fully toward the man, straightened up, and looked into that pale, cold face. He took a deep breath and cautiously asked in a soft voice, "Then the fact that I'm not dead yet... does it mean I might not die?" His voice was quiet, matching the man's, and in the chorus of insects, such a whisper wouldn't disturb the others.

The corpse-like face suddenly broke into a smile. Though the smile was far from pleasant—bordering on eerie—it was, nonetheless, a smile.

"You've managed not to lose your composure under these circumstances, and you're still able to observe and think. That's not bad; you're not as stupid as I thought. If you'd drawn your sword and made any noise, alerting the others..." The man's eyes turned cold. "I promise, you'd die a death far worse than this female knight."

Yabin didn't respond. He only felt his heart pounding wildly, at four or five times its normal speed. The strange tone behind the man's smile and words gave him the absurd feeling that he might actually be one of those legendary figures who managed to escape the dragon's maw with treasure in hand. In a voice tight with tension, he asked, "What... do you want me... to do?" The nervousness made his voice crack slightly.

The man didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, "Why are you here to save her? I remember your strike in the cellar—precise, ruthless, meant to kill her. You couldn't have been working with her all along. And the fact that you used white magic to help us only proves you aren't one of the Church."

"I could kill her… but… I can't stand by and watch her be tortured to death by you." After thinking it over, Yabin gave this reply. Though he knew every word he spoke now determined his fate and had to be carefully chosen, he couldn't come up with any other justification beyond this seemingly nonsensical answer.

"So that's your reason. Naive." Despite his words, the man seemed to understand this strange reasoning. The eerie smile on his pale, unnatural face grew wider, filled with mockery. "And this impulsive, reckless behavior—also a result of your youth and naivety. Naivety clouds your judgment, dulls your senses. Naivety will get you killed. You know that, right?"

"I do now," Yabin replied softly, nodding slowly, his voice trembling slightly as though on the verge of tears.

"But everyone starts off naive," the man said with a faint trace of an uncharacteristic sigh. "The fact that you didn't make a sound earlier has already earned you a chance. And now, I'll give you another."

Yabin's heart leapt into his throat, his voice rough from tension as he asked, "What is it…?"

The man said softly, "I'll let you take the female knight and leave."

For a moment, Yabin's heart felt as if it would leap out of his chest. It took all his effort to calm himself, knowing the man had more to say.

"But just like before, any chance you have must be fought for. I'll let you go, but whether or not you can actually escape depends on you." The man gestured toward the direction where the others rested. "They'll know there's no way someone of your skill could rescue her without me noticing. So, I'll wake them up, and we'll all come after you. If we catch you…" The man drew his finger across his throat in a cold gesture, his eyes colder than ice. "I promise, I won't even give you a chance to explain."

"Understood." Gritting his teeth, Yabin nodded. Any chance was better than none.

The man removed a pair of boots from his belt and pointed in a direction. "You'd best head that way. There's a river. These boots are imbued with a 'Water Walking' spell. Since you know magic, you should be able to use an enchanted item like this. With these, your chances of escape will be much better."

Yabin accepted the boots—ordinary-looking leather boots, aged and worn in places. Yet just holding them, he could feel faint ripples of water-element magic. Mechanically, he put on the life-saving boots, his mind a chaotic mess. Only moments ago, he'd thought himself doomed, at the end of the line, yet now he was presented with an unexpected way out. The sudden shift felt surreal. He couldn't help but look at the man and ask, "Why… why are you letting me go?"

"There's no harm in telling you now," the man replied, a sly glint flickering in his eyes—a stark contrast to his lifeless face. "I was already planning to find a way to release the woman without arousing suspicion. Since you've decided to play the hero, you can take the blame for me."

Yabin's jaw dropped, his mind in utter chaos. He couldn't make sense of what was happening.

"If you manage to escape, tell the knight that we're heading to the Turaleone Forest. Just don't tell her I let her go on purpose."

"What… what's really going on?" Yabin stammered, feeling as though his brain had stopped working entirely. "And… may I ask your name? Who… are you?"

"Too much curiosity is another form of naivety. If you want to live longer, sometimes it's better to know less. All you need to know is that you now have a chance to escape—and a chance to prove your naivety right." The man stepped back into the shadows of the trees and gestured for Yabin to act. "If you must call me something in front of the knight, you can say my name is Saunders."

"Yes… I understand." Yabin took a deep breath, driving away the storm of thoughts crowding his mind. This was no time to dwell on confusion; it was time to focus on escaping. In the faintest whisper, he cast Prayer, Strength, and Agility on himself. Finally, gathering his energy, he cast his most powerful healing spell on the knight, followed by Purification.

A faint white light swept over the knight's face, and her eyes fluttered open. Seeing Yabin in front of her, she let out a startled cry.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was more than enough to rouse the others.

Yabin drew his sword and slashed through the sack containing the knight. Pulling her to her feet—still groggy and disoriented—he shouted, "Run!"

"What are you doing?" the man leapt from the shadows, shouting in fury.

Yabin turned sharply, extending his hand. A blinding flash of light erupted from his palm. Even in broad daylight, it would have been dazzling; in the pitch-black night, it was utterly blinding. The man let out a scream, clutching his eyes. "Damn you, you bastard!" The rage and killing intent in his voice were unmistakable—anyone would have believed it genuine.

"Everyone, get up! That kid and the woman are escaping!" the man's furious shout echoed through the forest.