Farewell

In the north province close to the frozen land, the weather in the Month of Harvest was already turning cold, but today was unusually cozy and comfortable.

A team of cavalrymen rushed across the desert. The sunlight illuminated their black armor and dyed the emblem of bloody bear gold.

They seemed to be searching for something, but they turned a blind eye to the mercenaries not far away from them as if the mercenaries were transparent.

"As I recall, Collective Stealth is a seventh-circle spell, isn't it?" There was a mister among the mercenaries who did not look like a mercenary at all. He leaned against the horse lazily in a red tuxedo with a cup of wine in his hands, as if he feared that other people did not know that he was a debonair 'noble'.