Confirming the light of life fade away from the man’s terrified eyes, Alnea pulled his sword out of the yellow robed man’s chest, before blasting his Aspects into the ground, pushing himself away from the dying man, just in time to avoid the arrow heading his way. And without any function of locking in on the target, the arrow, glowing in a greenish yellow light, struck a tree, before disintegrating into thousands of squiggling wisps of yellowish light, which then drilled their way into the tree.

  Moments later, the tree withered away at a rate visible to naked eyes. It did not fall down right away, but it was not far from being dead. Another collateral damage in the battle between Wanderers. And that was despite the Star Seekers holding themselves back to avoid harming the trees. No wonder they were so desperately seeking a Guardian. Unfortunately for them, Alnea was not ready to pick up that responsibility.

  Tearing his eyes away from the dying tree, Alnea shifted his focus back to the battlefield. The yellow robed man he had stabbed was already on the ground, holding his chest, as if trying to stop his blood, his life, from flowing away. In vain. The wound he was trying to hold was tainted with the Killing Winds, carrying the Concept of Slaughter. Unless he was treated with at least an Advanced Stage Top Grade Arcana right away, his doom was certain.

  Unfortunately for the man, he did not seem to be an expert in the field of healing. Not that Alnea would have allowed the man to heal himself. Neither would he let the man’s teammates near him. Though it was not as if the man’s teammates were free enough to come to his aid. At least not without any consequences. After all, Alnea was not alone. He too, had his teammates. To let themselves get distracted by their Captain’s condition…

  The woman who had shot the greenish yellow arrow at him had already paid the price of her action. Not with her life, of course. She had just been tied with a rope, glowing in a greyish light, and pushed onto the ground, with the rest of her teammates. After all, not all their enemies deserved death. Only their Captain… The man who used the lives of his own teammates to exchange the lives of his enemies. If not for the Glyph Tokens he had given to Vestia…

  Then again, it was also partly their fault for letting their guard down. Even when they knew that they might get ambushed, they still let their enemies catch them by surprise. Why did they think that their enemies would play by rules? Why did they think that their enemies would have some honour? That was one of the most stupid mistakes that Wanderers could make. Assuming things about their enemies…

  Alnea subdued the guilt bubbling in his chest, and pushed his sword back into its sheath, as he glanced at his teammates. All of them were fine. Unscathed, even. The same could not be said about their enemies. Two of them were already dead, courtesy to their Captain, while the rest were not doing much better. Their clothes were bloodied, and tattered—though most of that blood had already been there when they first ambushed the Star Seekers— and their faces, haggard. It looked like they had not had much sleep lately. No, they were not suffering from insomnia. They—

  “Mind control,” Yuri said, dragging the Wanderer she had captured to her Captain, with the rest of the Star Seekers following her suit. “These Wanderers have had their minds controlled.”

  “You are joking, right?” Ralph said, with a hint of quiver in his voice. He even paused in his steps for a moment, as he glanced at the corpse he was dragging.

  “Not at all,” Vestia said, answering for Yuri, with a hint of solemnity in her voice. “Did you forget how stiff their movements were?”

  “Or how they did not bat an eye even when their Captain sacrificed two of them, just to sneak an attack on Vestia,” Karl said, glancing at the two dead—thee dead Wanderers.

  “…Now that you mention it, I did feel as if something was odd about them,” Norren said. “Like I was not fighting against humans, but…”

  “…Shadows. It felt as if we were fighting against Blood Shadows.”

  “Right, Blood Shadows. That’s it. Their movements were too mechanical. Even the way they used their Arcanas and Martial Styles…”

  “That’s because whatever method their Captain used to control them was not too subtle,” Vestia said, glancing at the dead Captain, before turning back towards their captured enemies. “They probably had a disagreement after coming to the Final World, which forced him to use drastic measures to bring them under control.”

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  “…Aren’t we focussing on the wrong thing here?” Ralph said. “When did controlling the minds of other Wanderers become so easy?”

  “Who said it was easy?” Yuri said, as the stiff face of their captured enemies slowly melted away, making it seem as if they were all in a daze. Or rather, a trance. That too, one induced by some hallucinogenic agents. “Controlling other Wanderers comes at its own risk. Both for the one being controlled, and the one controlling them. Or else, Heterodox Wanderers would not try to seduce Orthodox Wanderers in Heterodoxies, but directly control them to do their biddings.”

  “Then these Wanderers…”

  “Like Vestia said, they probably had a disagreement with their Captain, which forced him to take drastic measures.”

  “…Describing what he did as drastic measures would be an understatement,” Aren said. “Not to mention the other risks, just taking actions against his own teammates, and even deliberately ordering a couple of them to death… He probably had no intention of leaving the Final World alive.”

  “…That, or he had some means to block the eyes of the city, or counter its punishment,” Fran said. “Neither of those things are what just a False Wanderer could achieve.”

  “…Let alone a False Wanderer, not even a Grand Wanderer can break the rules of the city.”

  “So, either their Captain had the backing of a Supreme Wanderer—

  “One strong enough to not care about the retaliation of the Lost City.”

  “—or as Aren said, he probably had no intention of leaving the Final World alive.”

  “…What kind of disagreement would force him to take such risks?”

  “Won’t you know if you ask them?”

  “…I do not think they are in the state to answer any questions.”

  “Give them a few moments.”

  A few moments later, as Yuri predicted, their enemies began regaining their senses. Not all at once. Some of them still seemed to be struggling to free themselves from their trance. And those who did regain their senses turned even more pale than before. Some even keeled over to vomit whatever they had in their stomach, while a couple of them began shivering. Not from cold, but from fear. From an instinctive reaction of their bodies.

  “Can any of you understand what I am saying?” Alnea said, glancing at the Wanderers huddling on the ground. “Nod your head twice if you do.”

  No one did.

  “…I am sure that you must be afraid. Most of you probably do not even know why you are tied up, or who we are. But there is no need for you to worry. As long as you cooperate with us, I will ensure that you leave the leave the Final World safely.”

  His words only induced more fear in the Wanderers, causing even more of them to shiver.

  “…Nod your head twice if you understand, or I will feed you to the Oren Beasts.”

  This time, everyone bobbed their head twice. Even those who had just regained their senses.

  “…That was not so hard, was it?” Alnea mumbled. “Can any of you speak? Nod your head twice if you can, shake it once if you cannot.”

  All of them shook their head.

  “…If you cannot speak, then I have no need for you. Vestia, go capture some Oren Beasts we can feed them to.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “No!”

  “Wait!”

  “I can speak!”

  “Please…”

  “Don’t…”

  “No…”

  “I…”

  “…Spare us…”

  “…Go home…”

  “It looks like these Wanderers are not so useless after all,” Vestia said with a chuckle. “Do I still have to go capture some Oren Beasts, Captain?”

  “…Forget it,” Alnea said, before shifting his focus back to Wanderers trembling with fear and anxiety. “Now, I will ask a question, and everyone will give their answer one by one, starting from the woman on the left. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Ye—

  “Stop,” Alnea said, inching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I did not think this through… Alright, there is no need for all of you to answer. Only the person I ask will answer. You, on the right, do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Han Witherstone.”

  “From the Witherstone clan of the Nether Ridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the rest of your teammates?”

  “…We are from the same clan.”

  “Then why did you not try to save them?”

  “…Save whom?”

  “Your teammates,” Alnea said, pointing to the two men who had died trying to help their Captain deal with Vestia. “The ones lying over there.”

  “Neer… Uman… What happened to them? Why… When…”