The night wind howled. On the high ground overlooking the Jagged Bend of the Dark Realm, two figures draped in mage's robes stood like statues melded into the night, watching the Merchant Alliance army below. Their torches snaked into a fiery serpent, winding into the distance.

The torchlight illuminated the soldiers' finely crafted enchanted iron armor and gleaming helmets, and also lit up the massive war constructs lumbering within the ranks.

"Hmm... hard to say."

Grand Mage Samuel showed no particular reaction to the ambiguous "they" in his student's question. In essence, they were not on the same path as these Visaji merchants.

They hailed from the Dawnlands far to the south.

Whether it was his ivory-white mage tower standing in the port district of Misty Bay Harbor, or the brightly colored, flamboyantly designed mithril constructs currently marching with the army below, in the eyes of the Merchant Alliance, these were not his achievements. They were, at their core, merely part of the Alliance's assets.

Of course, Samuel was well aware that in the eyes of these calculating Visaji people, his status as a Grand Mage from the Dawnlands was probably little better than that of a valuable asset.

They did not truly revere the power and mystery of magic itself, but they knew how to appreciate it and were willing to pay handsomely for it. This was one of their few redeeming qualities that Samuel could tolerate.

If not for the Merchant Alliance providing nearly unlimited mithril, magic crystals, rare metals, and funds so abundant they made one's jaw drop for his experiments, his money-burning high-level construct life research would have likely died from lack of funding over a decade ago.

In other words, what Samuel felt towards these Visaji patrons was not contempt, but a more complex sense of regret.

He watched with regret as these sponsors, who controlled staggering wealth and could have propelled so much more magic and engineering development, were now step by step being driven by greed, arrogance, and fear of the Demon King towards the abyss of war.

Beside him, Ryan couldn't help but voice his confusion more concretely, his voice dropping even lower, almost lost to the wind.

"Teacher, are the changes here in the Dark Realm really so frightening?"

Several months ago, shortly after the chaotic slime skirmish in Coral Lane of Misty Bay Harbor, he had followed his teacher's instructions. Disguised as a traveling scribe, he had joined a Merchant Alliance trade caravan heading to the Dark Realm to conduct a preliminary on-site investigation of this emerging kingdom.

Because they were traveling under the Alliance's banner, they were not permitted to venture deep into the Slime Kingdom's heartland. Their activities were confined to the Dark Realm. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

At that time, Darkness City was still just the abandoned ruins of a vampire ancient castle. Ryan didn't even know that if they had been a bit bolder back then and ventured a little further northwest, they could have reached the stable planar rift that every mage dreamed of. From there, they could have entered the Slime Kingdom's second largest city—Winterhold, built upon the rift snowplain.

Even so, the changes in the Dark Realm alone were enough to astonish the young mage apprentice.

Level, compacted hardened roads had replaced the muddy, difficult paths that once crisscrossed the Dark Realm. Magical street lamps emitting a soft white glow stood at regular intervals along the roadsides, providing clear illumination even at night.

Since this nascent kingdom had risen in the Dark Realm, chaos seemed to have vanished from this land once shrouded in darkness.

The adventurers and mercenaries coming and going showed less of their former wariness and numbness, and instead carried a bit more vitality, even enthusiasm.

Adventurers rediscovered passion and dreams. Mercenaries showed a bit more humanity. They would share information at simple roadside ale-stalls, warn each other of potential dangers ahead, and point out which undead gathering spots hadn't been cleared yet.

And all these changes seemed to be caused by the slimes living on this land.

Ryan had to admit, those slimes did align with human aesthetics—plump, semi-transparent, various colors, moving with a kind of nimble cuteness.

He even thought of the snow puff leopards mentioned in some ancient mage travelogues, said to live on the far northern ice plains. Also round and pudgy, they were reportedly all the rage in certain high-society circles of male mages at the time.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly what caused this change. He only knew his teacher forbade him from getting close to those merchants and nobles because he didn't want him tainted by their corrupt ways.

But if spending too much time with those hypocritical, greedy nobles could infect one with mercenary and calculating bad habits...

Then conversely, would spending time with those seemingly harmless, cute slimes actually make people kinder and the environment more peaceful?

After all, no one wanted to live forever in a world filled with deceit and swarming with monsters, right?

When psychological barriers and defenses were lowered due to an improved environment, perhaps interactions between people could truly become different.

Of course, all this was just his baseless, emotional speculation. But that brief trip to the Dark Realm had indeed left a deep impression on him. He simply felt this kingdom was... good.

The bright magical lamps, the enthusiastic adventurers and mercenaries, and those round slimes completely dispelled the dark gloom that once shrouded this land. Instead, he felt a warmth the Merchant Alliance had never offered.

He stared blankly into the distant darkness, only the howling wind in his ears.

After a while, Samuel's voice finally drifted over with the wind.

"Ryan, you are too young... The changes you see seem natural and inevitable to you, but in truth, war and conflict have never truly ceased in Zeyarila."

"The invisible hand of Usca, God of War, has never relaxed its manipulation of mortal fate."

His gaze remained fixed on the army below, as if looking through them towards more distant history. "Humans, dwarves, elves... even those who proclaim themselves the staunchest guardians of order—their hearts can still breed greed, jealousy, and resentment."

"Different races, different faiths, different interests... these are enough to spread the flames of war to every corner of the world. You have merely... happened to be born and grow up in what has been, for the past few centuries, a relatively peaceful and tranquil era in Zeyarila."

"And an existence like the Slime Kingdom... even if you comb through the Sun Church's religious calendars and the continent's chronicles, it would still be considered rare."

"More importantly, Ryan, your vision is not broad enough. You have yet to realize the truly alarming aspect hidden behind these changes in the Dark Realm."

His voice grew lower, more profound. "The truly world-shaking, terrifying things often hide within the most inconspicuous details."

"In that newborn Darkness City, in the level roads and magical lamps you saw, in the never-closing stable rift, and even more so, in the sacred relic manipulated by those false believers."

Samuel stopped there, not elaborating further.

His gaze shifted away from Ryan, turning towards the front of the army below, briefly meeting the eyes of a ranger carrying a longbow in mid-air.

Samuel gave a slight nod in the other's direction in acknowledgment.

Those Merchant Alliance councilors, their eyes blinded by gold coins, might not recognize what that so-called sacred relic truly was, but he knew all too well.

That was no mysterious church relic. It was an alchemical cannon.

And it was most likely the legendary ancient alchemical cannon once mounted on the Blackrock Bastion, and it had been artificially refurbished.

Restoring and improving such an ancient and powerful magical artifact was no easy task. What it required behind the scenes was a vast and professional team—mages proficient in ancient magic formations and alchemy, dwarf forging masters of unparalleled skill, and a kingdom's progressive faction willing to fund the refurbishment of an ancient alchemical cannon.

Samuel admitted to himself that even with his expertise in constructs and magical engineering, undertaking such a project alone would be beyond his capabilities.

And what was even more chilling upon deeper thought was that the Slime Kingdom had never actively revealed even a hint of all these powerful mage groups and top-tier dwarf craftsmen.

It was like a magical creature quietly lurking in the depths of a swamp, usually only showing seemingly harmless tentacles. Only when truly provoked, opening its abyssal maw, would it likely shock all enemies who had underestimated it.

Yet, ignorance and arrogance blinded most people's eyes.

Those merchants and generals stubbornly believed the Slime Kingdom was just a bunch of lowly magical creatures relying on brute magical and physical force, proclaiming themselves civilized while denouncing the other side as barbarians.

Only he, relying on a scholar's acuity and years of research experience, had glimpsed a sliver of the unsettling truth hidden beneath this tip of the iceberg.

He was almost certain that this seemingly imposing crusade by the Merchant Alliance would not proceed as smoothly as they anticipated.

The slogan of crusading against the Demon King and his army was indeed shouted loudly, but the critique of weapons could never replace the critique by weapons.

Soon, they would realize this.

Of course, he did not attempt to dissuade the Merchant Alliance from its decision. He was merely an outsider, a hired mage, nothing more. Furthermore, those councilors, their minds clouded by profit and rage, would not listen to any "inauspicious" advice.

What he needed to do was find a new ship for himself and his apprentices, or find a way to reach shore, before this seemingly sturdy yet already cracked vessel beneath his feet sank completely into the sea.

Samuel sighed softly, murmuring in a voice only he could hear, "A pity. The experiment was about to succeed. Just the final step. If only it could succeed, I could return to the Dawnlands with my pride..."

...

At the front of the legion's marching column, the ranger who had exchanged glances with Samuel moments ago withdrew his gaze.

Just then, a burly warrior beside him approached, teasing, "What's the matter, Nolan? Don't you trust our esteemed, high-and-mighty Grand Mage Samuel?"

The man rode a powerful warhorse, clad in heavy plate armor, his helmet adorned with ornate silver patterns. One look told you he was someone of significant status.

A faint smile curled at the corner of Nolan's lips as he retorted, "Since when has our illustrious Sir Lucas the Silver taken an interest in these mages?"

Lucas and he were the commanders of the Coinminters Legion and the Blood Oath Legion respectively—the highest-ranking commanders of their legions. They were also the two highest-ranking Extraordinary professionals within this Merchant Alliance expeditionary force.

"Ryan, you are too young... The changes you see seem natural and inevitable to you, but in truth, war and conflict have never truly ceased in Zeyarila."

If that Iron Wall Raymond were still alive, there might have been one more Extraordinary professional participating in this expedition.

The relationship between Extraordinary professionals like them and the highest council of the Misty Bay Harbor Trade Alliance was complex and delicate.

On one hand, the council needed their power to safeguard crucial trade routes and suppress pirates. On the other hand, the Extraordinary needed to rely on the staggering wealth provided by the Alliance, and the status and influence that came with it.

Their relationship was closer to a mutually beneficial cooperation than a simple superior-subordinate one.

After all, pure strength could solve many problems, but it couldn't resolve intricate trade disputes, profit distribution, or the headache of administrative management.

And in reality, not a single one of those shrewd, calculating councilors was an easy character to deal with.

Hearing this, Lucas let out a muffled chuckle from behind his helmet. "Haha, who doesn't know our Grand Mage Samuel is proud and aloof? He often declines even private banquet invitations from councilors, holing up all day in his ivory tower tinkering with his iron contraptions."

"This time, he actually agreed, quite unusually, to accompany the army on this expedition... I advise you, Nolan, to keep a sharper eye out."

Nolan smiled noncommittally, not responding.

His attention was suddenly caught by something drifting down from the sky. He reached out and precisely caught a light, white, flaky substance.

Snowflakes?

Nolan looked at the rapidly melting ice crystal in his palm, his brow furrowing slightly.

This season, this location... snow was not a good omen.

"What, worried those slimes are up to some trick?" Lucas's voice came from behind, carrying his usual boisterous confidence. "If you ask me, you should focus your mind on more practical matters. Like which rich mines your lads should prioritize occupying after the battle. That's more worthwhile."

Hearing this, the doubts in Nolan's heart seemed to lessen somewhat.

He flicked the moisture from his hand lightly, feeling a sense of release. Indeed, as Lucas said, the Demon King they were to crusade against was, in the end, just a magical creature. A slime.

He was confident no one, including magical creatures, could stop the march of the Blood Oath Legion.

In fact, the Merchant Alliance had never ceased coveting the rich mineral deposits of the Dark Realm over the past decades. If not for concerns over that legendary ancient alchemical cannon said to have repelled the Border Corps, and worries about the vampire grand duke and the Stone Scion Grand Duke returning to these lands, they would have long ago taken the step to conquer.

But now was not too late.

The Demon King was powerful, that was true. But he was confident he was stronger. This wasn't arrogance, but the confidence of a level 11 ranger.

The night wind grew fiercer, carrying scattered snow grains that slapped against the armor and faces of the marching soldiers, bringing a biting chill.

The winding fiery serpent continued its determined advance through the darkness, heading towards the ancient fortress occupied by the slimes.

And on the high ground, Samuel withdrew his gaze from the army. He turned, his deep blue mage's robe flapping loudly in the wind.

"Let's go, Ryan. The main event is about to begin."