NEC Chapter 5: The Mission Team Sets Out

The Black Crow Lord’s birthday was still months away, but that didn’t stop the students from preparing their tributes early.

Depending on the distance to their destinations, various teams gradually set off toward the Gloomy Forest.

Chen Mo’s team assembled and headed for the Demon Tree Jungle as assigned.

The group of five marched toward an uncertain fate.

The team leader was the young master of the Zircon family. Despite being classmates and quasi-romantic rivals for so long, Chen Mo didn’t know his name, only that he liked pinning his family’s gleaming crest to his chest. Everyone called him Mage Zircon or Young Master Zircon.

In Chen Mo’s mind, he was Little Blondie.

As the leader, Little Blondie naturally walked at the center of the group.

He was just a boy, really, with a fair face, golden hair flowing, and a lingering trace of youthful innocence.

But his eyes hid nothing.

When they landed on Ellie to his right, they burned with undisguised desire. When they flicked to Chen Mo on his left, they turned to raw contempt and disgust.

The three in the center—left, middle, right—were mage apprentices, the main players of this mission.

Behind them trailed their respective summons in silence.

Chen Mo and Ellie each had a half-decent skeleton spearman. Little Blondie, far wealthier, commanded a sluggish common zombie and a heavy-stepping bucket zombie with a rusted helmet.

The team was flanked by two support members.

At the front was a scout nicknamed “Little Eleven.” No one knew his real name; it’s just what everyone called him.

He knew the paths, excelled at reconnaissance, and was kind-hearted, a highly competent mage attendant.

As they set out, he passed Chen Mo and whispered quickly, “Be careful!”

Just as people said, a good guy.

Bringing up the rear was a grim-faced middle-aged man, Little Blondie’s personal retainer, a genuine ranked warrior.

His name, as usual, was unknown.

In Black Crow Castle, mage apprentices were consumed with training, training, training. Beyond their mentors and a few close acquaintances, their social circles were pitifully small.

Rumor had it a ranked warrior could take on dozens of skeleton spearmen. Chen Mo dubbed him Many-Bones.

The journey was oppressively quiet, almost suffocating.

Aside from Little Blondie’s occasional attempts to chat up Ellie, everyone else stayed silent, trudging along.

They reached the Breeze Path.

This was a winding trail weaving through towering trees, low shrubs, ground-hugging weeds, and piles of rotting leaves. It was rarely traveled, barely discernible as a “path” without the sporadic markers carved into tree trunks.

Here, the team would make their final camp.

The Breeze Path marked a divide between two worlds.

From Black Crow Castle to the Breeze Path, a two-day trek, the area was free of major threats.

As the castle mages put it, the great Black Crow Lord had cleansed the surrounding territory, creating a haven.

Privately, apprentices speculated he’d simply built the castle in a relatively safe spot.

Either way, the shallow forest around the castle was considered a safe zone. Beyond, in the deep layers of the Gloomy Forest, the team had to slay the dark magic tree and return swiftly.

Spanning the vastest primal jungle between the northern and southern continents, legends claimed this land hid countless treasures and harbored terrifying monsters.

Adventurers’ most repeated advice: In the Gloomy Forest, never close your eyes.

Or you might never open them again.

The Breeze Path was the line between safety and danger.

Countless adventurers had paid with their lives to etch this boundary for humanity.

On Little Eleven’s suggestion, the team would rest here for the night and depart at sunrise.

Many-Bones set up a luxurious tent for Little Blondie, started a fire, and began cooking.

Ellie, from a merchant family, unpacked her small tent from her summon’s gear, slipped inside, and left her skeleton to guard the entrance.

Little Eleven pulled out a sleeping bag and nibbled on his dry rations.

Chen Mo, the most pitiful, had nothing.

Struggling to untie his grass-rope-bound bundle, he pulled out a herb-gathering sack and approached Many-Bones’ fire, making one last attempt.

“Captain Zircon, with your strength, taking down the dark magic tree will be effortless. I’m just a beginner and can’t contribute much. Could I be allowed to gather herbs nearby?”

“I’ll hand over all the herbs I collect for you to distribute.”

Little Blondie, leisurely savoring his hot meal, tilted his head, one corner of his mouth curling into a strange smile.

For some reason, among all his potential rivals, Little Blondie loathed Chen Mo the most.

He hated those black eyes that met his without fear, only calm. He hated that yellow-skinned face, born of commoners yet radiating inexplicable sunny confidence. Most of all, he hated Chen Mo’s impartial composure, treating nobles, commoners, and servants alike.

A visceral, gut-churning hatred.

He let Chen Mo stew for a few seconds, then raised his voice toward Ellie’s tent: “Hey, Ellie, hear that? Your little admirer doesn’t seem keen on adventuring with you!”

The tent stayed silent, no response. Little Blondie turned back, a mocking grin on his face: “See, Black-Eyes, your goddess can’t bear to let you go.”

“Sorry, the Demon Tree Jungle needs you. Drop those pathetic herb ideas and keep up. Otherwise…”

“I don’t mind teaching you a little lesson!”

Chen Mo nodded, signaling he understood, and walked away.

Seeing Chen Mo unfazed, Little Blondie felt a twinge of frustration.

Brushing back his golden bangs, the annoyed young master added, “Hey, you barely qualify as a mage. The forest’s dangerous. Got a will prepared?”

“If something happens, I, your gracious captain, could bring it back for you!”

He slapped his forehead dramatically: “Oh, right! I forgot, your family’s long gone, huh? Tsk, that dumb skeleton standing there is your only ‘relative,’ isn’t it?”

“Want me to be kind and bury you together? Keep it from getting lonely?” Chen Mo glanced back faintly.

This young master was getting carried away.

From his perspective, Chen Mo had no room to resist. It was just a matter of dying sooner or later, gracefully or gruesomely.

To these lofty, untested noble heirs, the world was defined by status.

A superior’s gesture could crush those below like bugs, wriggling briefly before dying without resistance.

He didn’t know that Chen Mo’s homeland excelled at dealing with nobles.

Tch…

Chen Mo returned to his chosen spot, leaned against a tree facing the group, pulled out his tattered pack as bedding, and curled up to sleep.

Many-Bones, busy all the while, had glanced at Chen Mo several times, worry in his eyes.

An experienced warrior, he knew such humiliation was pointless.

Chen Mo would rather turn his back to the dark forest than trust the team, clearly on high guard.

Though the young master had ordered an “accident” at the dark magic tree, Many-Bones sensed Chen Mo wouldn’t go quietly.

“Young Master, Eleven and I will take turns on watch tonight. You mages rest well!”

Though called a rotation, Many-Bones stayed awake all night, fearing Chen Mo might flee and spark the young master’s wrath, which would fall on him.

All night, the warrior’s eyes never left the dark figure under the tree.

To his surprise, Chen Mo slept soundly.

Curled up beneath the tree, occasionally twitching, each movement tugged at Many-Bones’ weary nerves.

As for Chen Mo’s skeleton spearman, it was draped in ragged cloths dug up from some cellar, clutching a bone spear noticeably shorter than others, standing motionless before him.

Time crawled in tense silence, the forest’s darkness slowly fading as the red sun climbed the treetops.

The first rays pierced the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

A new day had arrived.

Or rather, a bloody day had begun!

>>> NEXT CHAPTER