The light of a new day arrived.
Fungi was leaning against the wall, calm, observing with the soul connection of the blessed one he had left in the sect.
Everything continued as normal. Even in his direct absence, it seemed that no one had noticed him. He tried to check the memories of the blessed one to see if it had conveyed any important information, but the only thing he could gather was that Secil had informed the sect that he would be absent for a long time—which was very good.
There were no further additional clues. However, the practice dummy had provided him with basic options for movement and responses focused on organizing the assimilation day. As long as the soul persisted long enough, he could return without many problems, provided he was still alive by then.
Regarding the diviners, he had no idea what his situation with them was; but if Secil or the Grand Master hadn't called, it was because they were far away—and he hoped they were.
Putting aside his thoughts, Fungi had spent the entire night checking if anyone was heading to the southern port. Without much success—everyone either came from the south or was heading north—it was complicated, and with no other caravans on the move, he opted to sleep in the leather armchair belonging to his caravan's owner.
But it was a new day, and he had to keep trying. He sent Huo-Huo and Han-Lee to inquire, but neither got any useful information.
He could set off with his caravan immediately, but it was in very poor condition, and he did not want it to be destroyed mid-journey. He also chose not to hire more mercenaries for a better defense—it would be an expense and only a slightly lower risk; for that, it was better to join another caravan.
Moreover, he had spent an enormous portion of his earnings on the storage cube and still had to pay for his ship to the Kingdom of the Ancestor in the East.
Another problem he must solve is achieving mastery on the Water Path. He hasn't been able to practice during this time; the assassination attempt on Han-Lee proved that his technique was not mastered—otherwise, he would never have done without his dagger to finish the job.
He would rather pay to be inside a moving fortress and practice, while the others out there have to fight for him. But he hasn't had much success, at least in finding a caravan with the same destination as his.
If he doesn't secure a caravan within two days, he will leave with what he has; he wouldn't spend much more time, though he does not expect to reach such extremes. It remains complicated that no caravan is heading south.
It would only take until noon for another caravan to arrive. This time, it appeared at the same gate through which they had entered. Many merchants had gathered at the entrance; on this occasion, it was a large caravan.
This caravan was being escorted by several uniformed sorcerers, wearing matching garments and symbols. All of them had a silver-plated badge on their belt with an outstanding sword symbol.
It was a commercial caravan from a kingdom—the Kingdom of Swords. All of the caravan's sorcerers formed a line to keep the crowd at bay. They looked like a purple wall with their purple-and-white attire, each accompanied by large silver spears with sky-blue tips.
This could definitely be considered a fortress in every respect, compared to the mundane caravans that most in the camp had.
The elder he had met at the gate, along with many other adults, went out the main door to personally welcome the owner.
A handsome young man appeared, accompanied by two beauties behind him. The young man displayed a noble appearance, with long, pale, golden hair and a sharp gaze, complemented by his enormous purple robe with white patterns that proclaimed his royalty. Underneath, he wore a fine white shirt bearing an insignia of swords on the chest and a belt engraved with silver that clearly marked his status as a Grand Master.
The camp's masters welcomed him with great hospitality and gifts; everyone observed their interactions with envy. It was an overwhelming desire to speak with the newcomer—after all, he was no less than a noble from the Kingdom of Swords, a power from the Central Islands.
This kingdom was renowned for its incredible trade among the Central Islands; any merchant affiliated with or known to the domain of Swords had many doors opened to them with exotic products or goods directly imported from abroad.
Fungi did not stay behind; he observed with interest and hope, for he had found what he needed—a mobile fortress, something in which he could definitely be comfortable.
Yet he quickly dispelled his illusions. He did not believe he could affiliate with a commercial caravan from a kingdom, since even many mid-level merchants with excellent caravans could hardly approach and speak with the owner; what hope would one have for what a caravan truly offers?
But that was no reason to give up; he didn't need to have a relationship with anyone, much less adopt a false identity.
Besides, he had several ways to secure interactions—he wasn't short of ideas. He could offer himself as a legacy merchant and try to negotiate with them, or even as a healer.
However, he did not want to sell more legacies from the same path, nor was he going to sell the great legacy in a place like this—he did not want to draw attention.
The second option wasn't feasible because the commercial caravans of noble merchants had full staffs in every department; he was sure they had their own healer and much more.
But he had a third option—the Soul Path. This path is extremely versatile and powerful; he could attempt to control any member of the caravan by manipulating their soul to make them his puppet—even their own owner. But he had a problem: his power over souls was insufficient.
He could control the caravan's owner if he wanted, but it would take too much time to tame a wild soul—and he doubted the owner wouldn't have a strong will, which would make it very complicated.
Furthermore, he didn't have enough time to put on a terror spectacle to weaken the will of the soul, let alone one so grand as to panic a nearly military-level camp defense. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't make use of his Soul Path.
The Soul Path is unique—there are no means to detect a soul, nor a method to heal one, except that only a master of the soul could mend a soul wound, and Fungi was possibly the only one in the world with such control.
He could create a dilemma by becoming the one who resolved the problem without being detected as its cause—he would harm the noble's soul...
It was getting dusk in the camp; Fungi, Han-Lee, and Huo-Huo were sitting atop the walls, watching the camp as they defended the ramparts.
Fungi had deliberately lied, claiming he sensed great presences approaching the camp. Although initially, Huo-Huo and Han-Lee had found it ridiculous to worry in a camp filled with sorcerers of every grade.
Fungi had told them that what was coming was wave after wave of attacks, and that he would rather not have to fight them.
It still sounded odd to them, but Fungi had already demonstrated during the camp journey that his perception was extremely acute, so they didn't question him much and agreed that if it were too grave, they would warn the others.
That being said, Fungi had indeed brought Huo-Huo and Han-Lee to lure in the horde. It was simple: Han-Lee would attract or repel beasts that Fungi preferred not to handle, and Huo-Huo would weaken the beasts enough for Fungi to take control of one when it was dying.
He couldn't perform a grand act, but he only needed one command to unleash chaos.
And so it happened: without anyone knowing, a horde was approaching after Fungi had spent time atop the walls—until nightfall.
"AHG!!!"
A soldier on the walls was yawning from the exhaustion and boredom of the night shift while his comrade looked on bitterly from behind his helmet.
"God, it's such a pain being here from morning to night—can't you change shifts?"
The other soldier looked at him mockingly."I suppose that great talents like us have no replacement."
His comrade glared even more bitterly."Really? Or perhaps the damn old man is sucking up to the Noble of Swords?"
Both fell silent until another soldier from behind spoke.
"Who wouldn't? Come on, if you have connections in this world, you can do whatever you want."
None of those present objected; they all agreed with the remark. But while they were chatting, three soldiers, then a fourth, joined the conversation with a somber tone.
"Hey, guys, we have a problem—the jungle is moving toward us."
The three soldiers looked at him seriously; one of them spoke disdainfully:"Well, I suppose it's time we got hit—let's move, and finish this quickly so we can return to our boring posts."
Before anyone else could speak, the walls were violently shaken as if about to collapse. All the soldiers tried to regain their balance, but they were all swept toward the camp. A shrill sound resounded.
"THEY'RE ATTACKING US!!!"
Everyone heard it; all the troops mobilized in response to the attack. But then another sound, even louder than the first, came—a collapse.
The wall protecting the camp exploded into pieces, and a massive beast was stationed atop it: a fearsome black bear, accompanied by more beasts.
Its roar sent a shudder through the accompanying creatures, and chaos engulfed the camp.
Several mercenaries leaped into the attack, and within seconds, the elder on the wall raised a second fortress of black stone, with various filtering doors to prevent the beasts from clustering. Several sorcerers joined the elder atop the wall, hurling elemental projectiles from their respective paths.
More masters joined to maintain control; some camp owners rallied groups of sorcerers to mobilize and pull the caravans away from the collapsing wall with their charges to save the goods.
But even larger beasts began to join the fray—later, a giant crocodile with crystals in its teeth and a black bull with red horns appeared; not merely common beasts.
Although beasts are classified similarly to sorcerers (as in hierarchy: master, grand master, supreme master), theoretically, depending on their rank, they should confront their counterparts in a similar manner (beasts, great beasts, mythical beasts). But reality is very different. Just as not every master is equally skilled—with differences making one infinitely stronger than another (as in Fungi, who is merely a master of the Soul Path, and could kill any grand master given the right situation)—this is even more unjust among beasts.
Being an apex predator means being at the top of the food chain, and Fungi did not hesitate to bring a challenge to the camp and force the owner of the caravan from the Kingdom of Swords.
And so it was: many masters and mercenaries began to fall before the ruthless claws and teeth of the great beasts. The terrible bear served as a catalyst for the frenzy of each abomination; the crocodile was a meat-harvesting machine armored to the core, and the bull was an unstoppable wrecking machine. The camp's grand masters were sweating with cold fear in the face of these calamities.
They lacked the cunning of the silver monkey, but were just as desperate. Yet, miraculously, for relief, after a few minutes the Caravan of Swords organized itself around the camp to defend everyone present, and their noble leader—the Noble of Swords—launched an assault on the three great beasts, accompanied by the two beautiful maidens who always followed him.
With a simple incantation, the noble produced three mercury spears that shattered the silence as they hurtled toward the great beasts, exploding violently. He then drew an additional sword and charged at the trio, whose impact barely seemed to damage them, especially the crocodile, which showed no sign of injury.
As the three beasts roared, their entourage surged toward the noble, but the maidens, clad in heavy silver armor, mercilessly slaughtered the remainder of the Swords Guard.
The camp's masters took a moment to regroup and support the formation of the swords while the grand masters rushed in to support the noble.
Fungi remained in the shadows, calmly sustaining a Soul spell. He had asked Huo-Huo and Han-Lee to cover him as he continued his chant, and what he was doing was separating his soul from his body and concealing it with his spell.
Fungi had never liked having to use his soul as a weapon; any damage his soul received would be reflected on his body and is much harder to mend. It wasn't just a matter of being delicate—but it had certain advantages, such as being able to be inside a weaker soul and see through it.
It was like an extended soul sense, and he was just waiting for the moment to strike the noble in the midst of the battle and deal him damage.
Moreover, while he waited, he was analyzing the noble. Although he had no intention of interacting further with him, Fungi was fascinated by his fighting style. It was something the noble needed to improve. Fungi saw himself more as an opportunistic killer, but when it came to fighting the sea beasts, he had no doubt that he must engage in hand-to-hand combat—an area he had never effectively developed.
The noble's style was rather crude; he constantly exploited a wound inflicted by the beasts, targeting only the damaged areas instead of creating a new one. He was extremely fast and did not wait for an opening; if he took a hit, he would deliver two hits—and if the enemy defended himself, he would strike even harder.
Fungi wanted to develop a more flexible style with the Marine Serpent—perhaps using its malleability so he would never cease attacking. That was only inspiration, though; he still hadn't fully developed his primary water technique.
As the minutes passed, the battle, which had started as a surprise attack, began to turn against them. The noble was showing slight fatigue against the three tyrannical beasts, who were riddled with wounds. The accompanying masters were injured—some severely—but the maidens helped many retreat, and the Swords Army demonstrated its effectiveness and coordination.
While many of the beasts had already been slaughtered, some had lost their frenzy for blood, yet their numbers did not decrease—they still had to push back the "kings" (the most powerful beasts), even though the noble fought valiantly, it was merely a grand master against three great, hardy beasts.
The camp's grand masters were sore and many were seriously wounded, but none allowed themselves to pause—they had to fight, or the beasts would prevail.
But beasts, unlike humans when pushed to their limits, would give everything to at least capture their prey.
The noble and his masters knew this from the start, yet they did not falter. The noble assumed a different stance and began reciting a spell; all the Swords warriors formed a defensive barrier around their lord, and the other masters grasped his intentions and joined the defense.
The three terrible beasts lunged with ferocity as they bled profusely; the bull charged through the defensive lines with supreme force, but the wall master leaped and stopped it abruptly with a spear-shaped barrier, impaling the bull after several meters of devastation.
Immediately, thick roots from another camp master accompanied the attack, immobilizing the bull and making it an immediate target of the other masters, inflicting severe wounds.
Meanwhile, the crocodile could not be stopped in its charge—its skin was too tough, allowing it to slip between the defense and the bear. The bear, too, caused heavy casualties among both the Swords and the camp's sorcerers; it wasn't halted until arrows, detonating like grenades, struck the two great beasts.
Huo-Huo stunned them instantly, and Han-Lee followed by unleashing a series of relentless slashes within seconds, aggravating the wounds on both beasts.
The two mercenaries acted at the right moment—both fought valiantly against the two beast kings, though only for a short time. This act was more a brief relief for the rest than a qualitative aid; after all, they were only masters, not commoners, albeit masters.
Though Han-Lee managed to worsen their injuries, his cuts were still somewhat superficial, and Huo-Huo's arrows provided a pushing force rather than penetrating their defenses.
Yet both continued to collaborate with the others, giving enough recovery time for them to launch renewed, violent attacks against the tyrannical beasts.
Then, after several moments of intervention, the noble finished his spell. The ground trembled momentarily and cracked in several places across the field. In an instant, spears flew out like bullets at all the beasts present—every one was impaled on the spot.
The three beast kings were then struck by dozens more metal spears; all of them pierced their thick hides and began acting like drills.
Cries of pain echoed throughout the field.
The weaker beasts died instantly, while the stronger ones kept resisting until a barrage of spells fell upon them, accelerating their demise.
In contrast, the beast kings—still demonstrating strong offensive force—the feeling of impending death only fueled their rage further.
They all charged recklessly, with nothing holding them back, all except one.
The bear charged at the noble. All his companions fired their techniques at the bear, but they were inefficient; only the two maidens at his back managed to momentarily halt it, yet even with its organs exposed from the cuts inflicted by the maidens' swords, the noble, with no escape, coldly leapt at the bear.
One of the two was destined to die—the noble, predicting the bear's attack, moved his sword toward his left arm before he could fully raise it. The bear tried to bite in response, and the noble already knew.
But that was a trap: the bear bared its teeth only to receive the next full attack; its plan wasn't even to use its other arm—this was too obvious. Instead, it did something unexpected: it charged at the noble with all its weight to immobilize him and hugged him tightly.
It grasped him fiercely, even though the sword pierced through the noble's jaw. The noble felt a terrible, acute pain across his entire body; his cry echoed throughout the camp, and one could feel as well how the bear's vitality was draining away.
Moments later, his other companions perished as well.
Although the nobleman was wounded, the camp was saved, and Fungi, in the distance, remained smiling in the shadows.