Chapter 125: Not Leaving
Time flew by, and the stars shifted.
Early the next morning.
Just as dawn broke, golden sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting brilliant rays.
The morning chill had not yet fully dissipated when the Thorn Caravan set off.
Most people in the convoy had no inkling of the danger ahead and were instead filled with more anticipation and longing for their arrival in Bay Territory.
Having only fallen asleep late in the night, Adam Smith was carefully studying the map, his bloodshot eyes feeling a bit sore. He blinked hard and sighed deeply before saying:
"Arcanist, the enemy is most likely to launch an attack this afternoon or evening, probably near the ruins of Sweetwater Town..."
Sweetwater Town?
The place where fate was changed!
Matthew couldn't help but recall the second seemingly random choice of fate he had made!
In hindsight, if he hadn't left the vicinity of Sweetwater Town in time back then, he might have faced enormous danger.
He wondered what the current situation was in Sweetwater Town?
A town that once held tens of thousands of people, reduced to ruins in just moments—would that attract adventurers to explore?
The answer was most likely yes!
But strangely, there hadn't been any news from there, which was odd.
Seeing Adam Smith's questioning gaze, Matthew focused on his status panel.
Bloodshed disaster!
No change!
It was clear that the enemy hadn't deviated from their original plan. Matthew followed Adam Smith's lead and said:
"In that case, let's stick to the plan!"
Thinking of the established plan, Adam Smith nodded solemnly, rubbed his face hard, and immediately fell asleep.
He couldn't go out looking like this, or someone might sense something was amiss.
Matthew looked at the sky, a clear blue without a cloud in sight—a perfect day for travel!
What a pity!
The Thorn Caravan had traveled this route many times before, so even without Adam Smith's direction, everything ran smoothly.
As the caravan moved farther away, several pairs of eyes withdrew, vanishing into the alleyways of the town.
Before long.
People began leaving from the other gates of the town, disappearing into the Misty Marsh.
After some twists and turns, they overtook the Thorn Caravan via another route and met up with their waiting allies.
A hulking figure sat astride a warhorse.
Clad in gleaming armor, faintly glowing with magical light, it was a full set of enchanted armor!
He rode a six-legged warhorse, its exterior covered in dark green scales, its head twisting restlessly.
The horse's maw, full of sharp teeth, exhaled white vapor, and its blood-red eyes rolled constantly, staring greedily and bloodthirstily at the approaching scout.
On the man's back was a pitch-black great axe, emanating a chilling aura!
The axe's bloodstained blade pulsed with a dark red aura.
YOU ARE READING
Sorcery Monarch
Science FictionCrossing into Netheril, becoming a small lord. Nurturing a Time Whelp, developing arcane magic, and transforming technology. Absorbing populations from various races such as humans, dwarves, elves, halflings, drow, tieflings, and the magicborn, to...
