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After applying to leave the headquarters of the third legion of Lord Zavian Malaevorn, under which came the cohort of Artemis, and her century, she was finally allowed to exit the mission and return home.

But there were no carriages that could take her from the fifth border village back to the city of Cernia, the largest city which contained Lord Zavian's palace.

She couldn't make the journey on foot either. The road from the fifth border village to the capital of Lord Zavian's domain had the Great Forest of Nazaria in between—a place known to be filled with monstrosities that exceeded level three hundred.

Going through the forest was out of the question, so there was no way the cohort would procure an explicit party and carriage to escort her home. She was from the noble house of Eshervin, but it was a lesser nobility with little influence beyond their territory.

So, the only option that remained was for her to participate in the escort mission of gold. The village, throughout the month she'd been there, had gathered approximately five thousand kilograms of it. A tunnel that had begun in the fifth border village had spread up to Nazaria Forest itself.

The enormous quantity of gold had not come without cost, though. Of the one thousand villagers, three hundred had already died. But the higher-ups were not blind to this; they'd begun a forced breeding program to increase the labor force. And more horrific things were going to be done here in the future, according to the little bits of intelligence she could gather from Risha and Rimanus. Rimanus especially had done enough brutality in the past month to earn promotion to centurion—though it was done only after the centurion of the fifth century of their cohort had died in a monster culling mission.

Either way, he'd even warned her and helped her pull some strings to get out of here. Disgusted as she was with him, she still had accepted his help. Beggars could hardly be choosers—which was ironic, considering her noble family.

…

The night fell as they strode along behind the gold-containing carriage, with about fifty warriors protecting it and the mages from all sides. They were moving along the periphery of the Great Forest of Nazaria, and they'd already encountered fifty monsters. Ten of their warriors were already killed. They'd initially come with an escort crew consisting of ten mages and seventeen warriors. Ten warriors were so severely injured that they had no choice but to leave them behind to fend for themselves—an action that was done far too often in the field of battle.

She could still recall the green days of her youth when she'd cried for hours in Risha's embrace after abandoning precious companions. But now, just like Risha, her heart too had grown cold. Though, unlike Risha, she still hadn't been able to grow cold enough to avoid feeling the burning aches of sorrow.

The carriage rolled quietly through the uneven terrain, uncaring of the plight of the living. The shaking of it against the dirt, twigs, and rocks made enough sound to drown out their own footsteps and lingering thoughts.

Despite how much sound it made, they were actually trying to be stealthy. But this much was the most stealthy they could be without using magic and triggering the monsters through mana fluctuations. Though, if it were the dominion of Lord Cyrus, they had air transport ships that could fly and made almost no sound or mana fluctuations. But the magitech of their dominion and this one were heaven and earth apart.

"The winds are going to increase in intensity; keep vigilance," reminded the escort team leader, his voice almost a whisper.

And indeed, the wind suddenly surged in intensity such that she could barely keep her robes in place. She invoked her affinity with wind, making sure to suppress any mana fluctuations that might arise, and made a shield of calm wind around herself. It was easy to do with small fluctuations.

The warriors, on the other hand, having their muscles enriched through their fibers with mana from their martial training, were unfazed by the same wind that was bending trees. Artemis thought about casting a wind spell around the whole carriage, because clearly other mages without wind affinity or the carriage itself wouldn't last long with the wind's intensity spiking this hard. Just then, the sky broke with a demonic shriek.

"What was that?"

"Neighhhh!" The horses went into panic, while the tamers worked to reel them in.

"Everyone, take up battle formation, and mages prepare silent wind formation. It's likely a corrupted beast."

Artemis immediately sprang to action. She was by far the best mage at wind spells, which meant she'd have to be the core of the formation. The other mages gathered around her as she began her cast.

She channeled the mana outwards, and it spilled forth like ink on canvas. The light green energy of the wind twisted and turned, following her hand movements. The patterns of the wind spell—silent wind—came together into one diagram of thirty-three lines.

She further developed the spell and added patterns that allowed for extra interaction. She then broke down the security lock of the spell, which usually prevented others from taking it over. This was necessary since other mages were going to access and reinforce it. But a wind spell, even when used in formation, without the security lock, was susceptible to being taken over by a being of greater wind affinity.

And the demonic bird, whose screech was drawing closer with each moment, was bound to have more wind affinity than herself. So she rebuilt the security lock to allow for the inclusion of her companions' mana imprints, so that only they could access the spell.

At the same time, the mages around her unleashed their mana in full. They took part of her mana and modified the mana imprints of their own. Mana itself usually had a security system in place that prevented anyone else from manipulating it, regardless of affinity. This allowed her to access and pull on their mana. And she did; she took small chunks from everyone and used it to broaden the accessibility of the silent wind spell.

Now each mage had access to the spell. They initiated the process of mana transfusion. Vast quantities of mana poured into the spell, and the spell diagram's visibility grew until it engulfed the sky over them and transformed into a full formation.

"SKREEEEE!"

The demonic bird with four wings and six eyes dove down, with its claws pointed directly at the carriage. The demon's talons, the likes of harpoons, dug down over their newly erected formation as prismatic sparks of mana flew everywhere.

Artemis gritted her teeth. The beast above wasn't just striking the barrier with its talons, but it was also simultaneously infusing its own wind affinity over it. And at the core, she could feel it acutely—the enormous affinity of wind the bird carried. The lock definitely prevented anyone of greater affinity from taking it over, but mana at its core was still alive with likes and dislikes. If one being's preference exceeded the other's by too large a margin, they needed to shift allegiance, and she wasn't proficient enough in mana security to craft more intricate locks.

Fortunately, before it had attacked, she'd been able to seal off the mana imprints of the spell. Otherwise, the bird would have instantly taken over the formation. Though, that meant the formation would only buy them some reprieve.

"SKREEEE!"

Winds howled as the monster fell, uprooting trees and flinging them at the barrier. The monster, like some enraged demon, repeatedly crashed onto the barrier, scratching, digging, and pecking at its most critical points. The prismatic sparks of mana began shedding off the spell with each strike.

That was bad. Those sparks were raw mana being scraped off the formation. The green glow of the formation was also having parts of it turned purple. That was the transformation color of a spell—it meant the demon, through enforcing its own affinity on the spell, was now able to unlock the locks they'd put in place, corrupting parts of the formation as a whole.

"Leader, I don't believe this formation will hold much longer against something like that," said the vice leader of the escort crew to its leader.

The leader, a warrior, stared at the bird with a grim face. That didn't bode well. What was he seeing?

"Wait, I forgot to check its level!" Artemis yelped.

[Appraise]

[Anivia Osprey – lvl ???]

"It's… an Anivia…" she said dubiously.

An Anivia is the evolved form of the osprey race. But there was a distinction: Osprey birds weren't the only kind that could evolve into an Anivia. Any and all descendants of the legendary bird had the potential to evolve into it. Except the chances of this happening were zero—not near zero, but absolute zero. Especially after the lost age, which had greatly lowered the blood purity of many races.

Then how had this bird managed to evolve into the bloodline of an Avian Royalty? Her brain couldn't make heads or tails of it.

And the spell formation she'd imagined would hold—she couldn't imagine it anymore, not after seeing something like that.

Her channel of wind affinity was also beginning to burn at its seams. Fighting against the wind affinity of an Avian royalty, even with the help and affinities of other mages, wasn't realistic.

Right then came the voice of the leader.

"Brace for impact, mages!"

Like hell they could. The Anivia had taken to the upper skies and, like some meteor spell, it barreled forward with its beak pointed at the exact critical spot of the formation that it had been chipping away at all this while.

Is this monster really corrupted?

The sound of breaking glass echoed as she watched the wind formation crumble to pieces in a rain of prismatic particles of mana.

"Artemis!" someone called.

She felt something wet in her clothes. It felt sticky on her skin. She looked down—blood. She was bleeding from her nose.

She coughed once and fell to her knees.

"Protect the carriage; Anivia is trying to steal the gold!" came the panicked roar of the leader.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the bird's beak tearing apart the carriage. Yellow ores filled with gold spilled forward from its furious strikes.

The bird took the largest one on its beak before grabbing another two large ores with its talons, while the soldiers struck down repeatedly with their steel swords on its wings, sides, and everywhere they could.

But it was to no avail; the swords broke before their will did. Ignoring the warriors like they were ants, the Anivia with six eyes turned to her. Its eyes glowed with the intensity of a raging tempest. She'd expected to be torn to shreds by its gaze alone. But instead, she felt a distinct warmth, accompanied by a voice too authoritative and intelligent to come from a corrupted monster.

"You did well," it said, and took to the sky.

…..

Escort Leader of the gold caravan, Evanus, felt dazed. That Anivia had just taken off with almost half the gold ore—the biggest chunks of it. Just like that, and he'd been all but helpless to stop it.

It had broken through the formation of silent wind like nothing, and in such a short time too. It didn't make sense; he'd never seen a formation supported by ten mages being broken so fast. Especially one supported by a mage like Artemis. She was by far one of the top five wind mages of the entire cohort, and across the third legion, she came in among the top ten wind mages.

And yet, she had been unable to hold on to the formation for more than a few minutes. The majority of the gold was now gone. He now stood under a tree with his hands on his head.

Things had taken a turn for the worse. As a vice centurion of the fourth century, he knew well what the cohort had been assigned to do. They were assigned to begin the mineral extraction operation. But there were layers to the plans of the higher-ups.

As of now, all ten of the border villages had been captured and enslaved for use. Though, from outside, it looked as if nothing had happened. But the plans were simple. Even if nobody had told him, as someone who knew much of the foundational plans of the lord, he could tell that the capture of these villages—even the ones that didn't have any gold or silver minerals beneath their land—weren't for nothing.

The forced breeding programs of the villagers and the indoctrination of the men to work to gain access to their women and amenities were clear. And based on recently sent classified information to the centurions and vice centurions, it was decided that an underground city was to be established beneath the forest of Nazaria.

And why would the lord do something as costly as establishing an underground city beneath a forest full of ancient trees whose roots dug deep into the earth's core?

It was simple: he planned to create a fortified position where soldiers and populations could work. And considering his relations with other dukes, it was certainly for war.

And all this construction—especially the underground city—would need a lot of gold. Which, in the end, meant that the five thousand kilograms of gold they'd lost were far more significant than they seemed.

He was certain to be executed for it. Unless.

"Unless I defect to Artesh."

He was close to their border. But historically, if there was one race Artesh hated the most, it was vampires. And he didn't have enough money to get away with being a vampire in a human-dominated place.

Except that he did. His eyes shifted to the remaining gold—enough to start up a decent business in Artesh or just use it to live his life there under cover. Because Lord Zavian was bound to send his assassins to ensure nothing of his plans was revealed to the other dukes.

He took a deep breath to calm down his racing nerves. He knew he was deciding things too fast, but unless he acted quickly, he was bound to lose his life.

"I should just take some of the trusted warriors with me and lea—!?"

A sharp pain came from his solar plexus. He looked down.

A curved dagger's sharp head protruded out of his chest. Someone had gotten so close to him, yet he hadn't noticed. If this dagger were pulled, he was certainly going to die.

He wished to see his perpetrator's face at least before he died. He turned his screaming body over. In the seconds the blade had pierced him, whatever this blade was made of caused his insides to feel like they were set ablaze.

In all this agony and struggle to turn around and see his killer's face, a young voice came through.

"Enough, old man."

"That voice… it's you!"

Centurio, Rimanus!