Chapter 41: The First Mission
Early the next morning, as dawn was just breaking, Redstone Fortress was still shrouded in a thin layer of morning mist.
Lia appeared at the entrance of the Blazing Mercenary Group's base right on time, still wearing that same faded old mage robe. Her red hair was simply tied back, making her look quite ordinary; if placed in a crowd, hardly anyone would give her a second glance.
But the moment she opened her mouth—
—that was a different story entirely.
The entrance to the base was already a hub of noisy activity.
Five carriages laden with goods were lined up neatly by the roadside, their crates stacked high and tightly covered with waterproof tarps, clearly carrying something valuable. Twenty mercenaries on horseback stood guard around them; some leaned over to check their stirrups, some fed oats to their warhorses, and others leaned against carriage wheels, yawning so hard they could barely keep their eyes open.
Commander Carlos stood by the lead carriage, his leather armor tight against his frame, the scar on his face particularly striking in the morning light. Seeing Lia arrive on time, he gave a slight nod as a greeting.
"Get in," he said succinctly, pointing to the second carriage. "You sit there; it's a bit more spacious inside."
Lia glanced at the carriage—the wooden planks were crookedly assembled with dried leaves stuck in the gaps. The driver was a wizened, scrawny old man puffing on a tobacco pipe, the smoke making people frown from the pungency.
She shook her head slightly. "I'll ride a horse."
Carlos paused, a bit surprised. "Are you sure? It's a bumpy two-day ride. The carriage is much more comfortable." Many mages were pampered and too lazy even to walk.
"I'll ride a horse," Lia repeated, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Carlos didn't try to persuade her further, pointing toward the group of horses nearby. "Then pick one for yourself. Pick a gentle one."
Lia walked over to the horses and, without a second look, casually picked the sturdiest brown warhorse. She stepped into the stirrup, mounted, and sat firmly in one smooth, practiced motion, more skilled than most of the mercenaries present.
Carlos's eyelid twitched slightly as he gave her another look, but he didn't ask anything else.
Some things didn't need to be said; you could tell just by looking at someone's movements—this woman was definitely not simple.
The group soon set out.
With five carriages in front and twenty-one mercenaries guarding the flanks, they grandly exited the north gate of Redstone Fortress, heading toward the Black Forest in the north.
On both sides of the main road were rolling hills and stretches of golden farmland. Occasionally passing through small villages, the villagers would stand by their fences and peer out curiously, while half-grown children ran behind the carriages for a bit, laughing and playing until called back by adults.
Lia sat atop her horse, her posture straight and her face expressionless. She looked like she was dazing off, but in reality, her ears were more alert than anyone's.
The idle chatter of the surrounding mercenaries reached her ears without missing a single word.
"Hey, have you guys heard lately? A Red Dragon has appeared up in the Northlands."
Lia's ear twitched ever so slightly.
"A Red Dragon? For real? Where'd you hear that?" another mercenary immediately chimed in.
"The Adventurers' Guild just issued a bounty—ten thousand gold coins! Alive or dead! Apparently, it's a female dragon, and her scales have a pinkish glow under the light."
"A pink glow? A mutant dragon species? That's rare."
"Who knows? Anyway, the bounty is right there. Whoever can take it down will be set for the rest of their life."
"Forget it," someone nearby scoffed. "One breath of fire from a Red Dragon and there won't even be ashes left of you, let alone being'set.' You'll be straight in the ground."
"I'm just saying... it's not like I'm actually going."
Lia's face remained expressionless, but she was silently complaining in her heart.
Scales with a pinkish glow.
That was just leftover pheromones from her heat three years ago; it had long since faded to the point of being invisible.
It's been so long, why are humans still spreading this?
It's one thing to spread rumors, but a ten-thousand-gold bounty?
Is that all she's worth?
"But then again," the first mercenary lowered his voice, "that dragon seems pretty quiet. I haven't heard of it destroying villages or eating people. It just claimed a volcano as its nest and occasionally comes out to hunt some wild beasts."
"Aren't all dragons like that? Incredibly lazy. As long as no one actively provokes it, it can sleep in its nest for half a year without moving an inch."
"True."
Lia listened to this group of humans' "objective evaluation" of her, still saying nothing. She simply nudged the horse's flanks with her legs and kept pace with the group.
Regardless, once they actually met the Red Dragon in person, they probably wouldn't be chatting so casually.
The group traveled north for a full day and night.
On the evening of the second day, as the sky turned completely dark, they finally entered the boundaries of the Black Forest.
The Black Forest was true to its name.
The trees grew increasingly thick and tall, their canopies crowding together so densely that they blotted out the sky, letting not even a sliver of moonlight through. A cold, damp mist drifted perpetually through the woods, chilling to the bone. Thick layers of decaying leaves covered the ground, feeling soft and smelling fishy underfoot. From time to time, the low howls of magical beasts echoed from the distance, making one's skin crawl.
Carlos immediately ordered, "Light the torches! Stay alert! There are many bandits in this area!"
Twenty torches were lit simultaneously, their dim yellow flames casting weak circles of light into the darkness.
The carriage wheels crushed through dried branches and fallen leaves, making sharp "crunch, crunch" sounds.
The warhorses snorted uneasily, their hooves pawing at the ground in agitation.
Lia sat on her horse, eyes slightly narrowed, as she subtly released her Dragon Perception.
In an instant, scents and presences from all directions flooded into her mind.
The musky scent of wild beasts, the moldy smell of rotting leaves, the metallic tang of soil...
And—
The smell of human sweat, the scent of blood, and a suppressed killing intent.
She wordlessly scanned the dense woods on both sides.
Fifty meters into the woods on the left, there was a dense cluster of breathing sounds—very light, but numerous.
At least thirty people were crouching behind the bushes, weapons in hand, their hearts thumping like drums.
The same on the right.
The same in front.
And the same... in the back.
A perfect encirclement was quietly waiting for them to walk right in.
The corner of Lia's mouth twitched imperceptibly, yet she remained silent, continuing to ride forward quietly like an ordinary mercenary.
If you're going to act, you have to commit to the whole performance.
When the group reached a relatively open clearing, Carlos had just raised his hand, about to order them to rest and take turns on night watch—
"Kill—!!"
A sudden, thunderous roar exploded!
A dark mass of figures instantly surged out from the woods on both sides, each brandishing steel blades and giant axes. Their faces were either masked with cloth or painted with hideous patterns, and they shouted chaotic slogans as they lunged toward the carriages like madmen.
Is bandits!
And there were at least fifty or sixty of them!
"Defensive positions!!" Carlos roared.
The mercenaries drew their swords to meet the attack, the sound of metal unsheathing ringing out sharply.
Carlos was the first to charge, his longsword flashing with a cold light as he cleanly cut down one man, then spun around with another strike to fell another. His swordsmanship was ruthless and precise, every blow aimed at a vital spot; in less than three seconds, three bandits were already down.
But there were simply too many bandits.
The mercenaries were already outnumbered, and they were quickly scattered, forced to fight individual battles.
Several mercenaries were cornered by two or three bandits, struggling to parry and facing life-threatening situations.
Someone's arm was slashed, blood gushing out as they fell to the ground with a scream.
The drivers were scared out of their wits, each huddling under the carriages, clutching their heads and trembling, not daring to make a sound.
Amidst the chaos, only Lia remained quietly on her horse, motionless.
It was as if this entire slaughter had nothing to do with her.
A bandit leader with a face full of scars immediately spotted this "lone, pretty female mage."
Seeing her delicate skin and that she wasn't even holding a weapon, he instantly took her for an easy target.
He gave a cruel grin, brandishing a blood-stained saber as he charged straight for Lia. "Little beauty, don't move! Just come along with—"
Lia sat on her horse, eyes lowered, quietly watching him rush toward her.
Watching him raise his blade, watching his cruel grin, watching him get closer and closer.
Five meters.
Three meters.
One meter.
The bandit's saber was already raised above his head, about to cleave down.
Lia finally opened her mouth slightly.
In the next moment—
"Whoosh—!"
A precise fan of flames suddenly erupted, exactly five meters in diameter, enveloping the bandit head-on.
He didn't even have time to let out a scream.
Like a tattered sack, the bandit was blasted over thirty meters away by the flames, hitting a tree trunk with a "thud."
When he hit the ground, his chest was already charred black and sizzling with white smoke. His body twitched twice before going completely still.
The entire field fell abruptly silent for a second.
The bandits and mercenaries in the middle of their fight all instinctively paused, their gazes snapping toward her.
A second later, the remaining bandits were enraged, howling as a group of them charged toward Lia, intending to overwhelm her with numbers.
Lia sat on her horse, not even changing her posture.
She opened her mouth.
A flash of fire.
One bandit went flying.
She opened her mouth again.
Another one went flying.
A third, a fourth, a fifth—
No bandit who rushed before her lasted more than a second.
With a flash of fire, the person would vanish, leaving only a charred, smoking corpse to crash into trees, the ground, or their comrades.
The previously aggressive bandits were completely bewildered.
They froze in place, looking at one another, the ferocity on their faces replaced entirely by terror.
No one dared to take another step forward.
Someone finally broke and screamed, "Monster!! Run—!!"
The bandits instantly scattered, turning to flee even faster than they had charged. They didn't even stop to pick up their dropped weapons, vanishing into the depths of the dense forest in the blink of an eye.
Lia closed her mouth and remained seated on her horse, expressionless, as if she had merely swatted a few flies.
The entire clearing was a mess.
Over a dozen bandit corpses lay scattered everywhere, the air thick with the heavy smell of char, blood, and smoke.
The surviving mercenaries stood in place, each clutching their swords and dazing off, their mouths hanging open wide enough to fit a fist. They looked at Lia as if they were looking at the Grim Reaper himself.
Carlos walked back from the front covered in blood—all of it from the enemies; he himself was uninjured.
He stopped in front of Lia's horse and looked up at her.
He just stared at her quietly for three seconds.
Then, he took a deep breath and spoke with an extremely complex tone:
"...You call that 'breathing fire'?"
Lia looked down at him, her expression still calm. "If it's not called breathing fire, what is it?"
Carlos opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, his throat bobbing several times.
Finally, he squeezed out just two words, his tone incredibly heavy:
"...A massacre."
Lia said nothing more, which was as good as an admission.
Just then, the silence was broken by a panicked shout.
"Commander! This is bad!" a mercenary stumbled over, his face pale. "We... three of our brothers are dead! And five are seriously injured!"
Carlos's expression darkened instantly.
He turned to head toward the wounded but stopped abruptly halfway, looking back at Lia once more.
That look was complicated.
There was relief, wariness, lingering fear, and a hint of inexplicable awe.
Lia remained on her horse, unmoving.
Her gaze calmly swept over the bodies of her companions being lifted onto the carriages, the pale-faced wounded, and the trembling, shell-shocked mercenaries.
Then, she lightly raised her eyes toward the depths of the dense forest.
In the direction the bandits had fled, there were still a few pairs of peeking eyes hiding deep, thinking they were well-concealed.
But before a dragon's perception, it was no different from holding up a sign.
Lia withdrew her gaze, her face still devoid of expression, and gently nudged the horse's flanks.
"Let's keep moving," she said flatly.
The convoy reorganized its formation and set out once again in a heavy, deathly silence.
That night, no one chatted or yawned anymore.
There was only the monotonous sound of wheels crushing dry branches and the crackling of burning torches.
Everyone knew.
Hidden within their small mercenary group was a monster who could use "breathing fire" as a means of massacre.
And their fates, from this day forward, were completely tied to this mysterious red-haired, golden-eyed mage.