In terms of defensive capabilities, a Tier-3 Mage could conjure barriers strong enough to withstand moderate attacks.
Though not as formidable as the defenses of higher-tiered mages, these barriers were sturdy enough to absorb a fair amount of damage before breaking.
This defensive skill provided a crucial advantage, allowing Adept Mages to counter enemy attacks or retreat before becoming overwhelmed.
Another defining trait of an Adept Mage was their ability to perform basic enchantments. While intricate spell-infused artifacts were beyond their reach, they could temporarily reinforce weapons with elemental properties, enhance armor against minor magical attacks, or imbue objects with short-lived magical effects.
This skill was invaluable, serving both practical and combative purposes.
A Tier-3 Mage was not yet a master, but they had progressed far beyond the limitations of an apprentice, standing at the threshold of true magical expertise.
-----
Lilianne and Lira had been walking around the camp for nearly an hour, inspecting the various tents, the stationed soldiers, and the supply arrangements.
Though the camp was well-organized, it was clear that many of the troops were on edge. The looming threat of Shadow Wolves made it difficult for anyone to relax.
Lilianne, despite her graceful composure, felt the fatigue creeping into her body. Traveling from the estate had been exhausting, and even though she had trained her stamina(a little), she was still a noblewoman – accustomed to the forefront of political intrigue and the demands of maintaining her public image, not a hardened warrior inured to the rigors of prolonged movement.
Lira noticed Lilianne's slowed pace and the slight tension in her shoulders. "Lady Lilianne," she said with a small smile, "perhaps we should rest for a while. You've been traveling and walking for quite some time."
Lilianne exhaled softly, appreciating Lira's concern. "That would be best," she admitted. "I wouldn't want exhaustion to dull my judgment when it's most needed."
Lira nodded and guided Lilianne toward her tent, ensuring she was comfortably settled before stepping away.
"I'll return shortly after checking in with the others," Lira said, offering a respectful bow before exiting the tent.
-----
Lira made her way back to the meeting room, where Velen, Cal, and Alexander were already waiting. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the map and papers containing the information about the shadow wolves spread out before them.
"She's resting now," Lira reported as she took a seat. "Now, about the Shadow Wolves… They haven't attacked yet, but we need to make a decision on how to deal with them before they do."
Alexander, the captain, crossed his arms in thought. "We already know from our scouts that there are multiple packs roaming around the area. If we wait too long, we risk an ambush when we least expect it."
Velen leaned forward, his sharp gaze scanning the map. "We need more people. If they attack in waves, we won't last long with just the forces we have here."
"Then let's recruit from the nearby villages," Cal suggested. "There may be capable hunters, retired soldiers, or even brave commoners willing to defend their homes."
Velen nodded. "We can send out messengers immediately. But will the villagers agree? Fighting Shadow Wolves isn't something ordinary people can handle."
Lira tapped a finger against the table. "They will, if they realize what's at stake. If the wolves overrun this camp, their villages will be next. They won't sit idly by while danger closes in."
The group exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. Velen turned to one of the guards stationed outside the meeting room. "Send word to the villages. Ask for volunteers and inform them of the urgency of the situation."
The guard bowed and quickly left to carry out the order.
-----
After finalizing their plan to recruit help from the village, the meeting gradually eased into lighter discussions.
With the immediate matters settled, Lira leaned back slightly in her chair, exhaling softly. The atmosphere inside the tent had grown less rigid, and for the first time since the meeting began, there was room to breathe.
Cal stretched his arms and let out a tired sigh. "Feels like we've been sitting here forever."
Alexander chuckled, shaking his head. "Tactical discussions do have that effect."
Velen, ever the composed one, glanced at Lira. "How long do you think Lady Lilianne will rest?"
Lira thought for a moment. "She traveled a long way, so it wouldn't be surprising if she sleeps through the evening. But knowing her, she won't want to appear idle for too long."
Alexander smirked. "She does have a reputation for diligence."
Lira nodded. "That, and she enjoys observing things firsthand."
The thought of Lilianne pacing the camp as soon as she woke up brought a small smile to her lips. Unlike most nobles who preferred to delegate work from a distance, Lilianne took an active approach.
-----
With little else to do for the moment, Lira decided to take a walk through the village. The evening air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and burning firewood.
The sky above had begun its descent into night, painted in hues of deep blue and orange.
Unlike the camp, where soldiers moved with purpose and discipline, the village had a more natural rhythm.
Families were finishing their evening meals, lanterns flickered outside wooden houses, and the distant sound of laughter and conversation filled the air.
It was a quiet, humble place—far removed from the grandeur of the capital but full of life in its own way.
Lira walked at a leisurely pace, observing everything around her.
Farmers were closing their stalls for the night, stacking baskets of unsold produce and exchanging last-minute words with customers.
Children, despite the growing darkness, still played along the dirt roads, chasing one another in a game of tag. A few elders sat outside their homes, enjoying the cool breeze while watching the village wind down for the night.
As she passed by a small bakery, the smell of warm bread drifted toward her.
The baker, a stout man with flour-streaked hands, was stacking loaves onto a wooden tray. He noticed her and gave a polite nod.
"You must be one of the knights from the camp," he said, his voice friendly.
Lira returned the nod. "That's right. We're here to handle the Shadow Wolf threat."
The baker wiped his hands on his apron. "Good to hear. Those beasts have been causing trouble. I lost a few sacks of grain last week. Thought it was thieves at first, but my neighbor swore he saw something moving at the edge of the forest."
"You're not the only one," Lira said. "We've been gathering information, and there have been similar reports from others."
The baker sighed, glancing toward the darkened treeline in the distance. "Hope you all have a plan. People are scared."
"We'll do what we can," she assured him before continuing on.
As she walked deeper into the village, she noticed a group of young men standing outside the tavern, speaking in hushed tones.
One of them, a hunter by the looks of his gear, glanced at her with mild curiosity before turning back to his conversation.
Further ahead, the village blacksmith was still at work, hammering a glowing piece of metal into shape, his forge casting a warm, orange glow onto the nearby buildings.
Despite the looming danger, the village carried on. People still worked, talked, and lived their lives. It was a stark contrast to the camp, where every action was centered around strategy and preparation.
As the night deepened, Lira took one last glance around before deciding to head back. The village was peaceful for now, but she knew that once the Shadow Wolves made their move, everything could change in an instant.
As Lira took one last glance around the village before heading back, her sharp eyes caught sight of a lone figure near the woods.
Under the soft glow of the moon, she could make out a young man, likely in his early twenties, standing with a sword in hand.
At first, she thought he might have been a villager, perhaps someone practicing late at night, but as she watched, it became clear that this was no simple training session.
His movements were precise, his strikes deliberate. He swung his sword in a strange yet fluid pattern, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next.
His footwork was light and controlled, adjusting with every swing as if following an unseen rhythm.
Lira narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him from afar. The way he moved was unfamiliar—not the structured, disciplined form of a trained knight, nor the unrefined aggression of an inexperienced fighter.
It was something different, something that seemed almost instinctual. There was an effortless grace to it, as though he had spent years honing this particular way of fighting.
The man showed no hesitation in his strikes. Each cut was swift, precise, yet carried an adaptability that suggested he could shift his stance at any moment. His grip on the hilt was firm but relaxed, allowing for quick adjustments in movement.
Who is he? Lira wondered.
He was certainly not one of the village guards–she had memorized their faces, and this man was a stranger to her. A traveler, perhaps? But then, why was he here, practicing alone in the dead of night?
A gust of wind rustled the trees, carrying the distant sounds of the village behind her. Yet the man remained focused, unfazed by his surroundings.
He was completely immersed in his practice, as if nothing else in the world existed in that moment.
When the wind gusts, she saw the face of this man.
It was Leon (Though she didn't know him)
After his sleep, he woke up, exchanged a few words with Elena, and then headed out to the woods to familiarize his body on using a sword by practicing his sword technique.
Though he had once mastered countless martial arts in his previous life, his current body was too weak to handle his main sword technique. The Chaos Demon Sword Technique.
Instead, he chose a refined technique from one of the strongest orthodox factions—the Flowing Blossom Sword Technique of the Mount Hua Sect.
Stepping onto the soft earth, Leon unsheathed his sword. The cold steel gleamed under the moonlight, casting a silver glow against the darkness of the forest.
He took a deep breath, steadying his stance as he let his muscles remember what his mind already knew. His current body lacked strength and speed, but technique was not merely about power—it was about flow, precision, and control.
And with the help of Sutra Iron Body, his body can endure a training for a longer period of time.