Super Magician: The Magic Network Collapsed Again at the Start

Chapter 36 They've raided someone else's lair!
A moment later, the door opened, and a group of people wearing black cloaks filed out.

Strangely, there was no one on the street, and only a line of shallow footprints extending out of the village in the fog.

The soil outside the village was soft, making the footprints clearer, but the fog obscured everything.

Rustle, rustle, rustle…

"Captain, did you hear anything?" A surprised voice came from under the cloak.

"Stop!" the middle-aged captain shouted, and the team immediately halted.

rustling...

The middle-aged captain felt a chill run down his spine. He suddenly turned around and looked around, but the faint sounds abruptly disappeared again.

His unease intensified.

The fog had thickened considerably, turning everything gray and obscuring the view.

"Is that the sound of bamboo shoots breaking through the soil? It just rained," one team member speculated.

These words exploded in the middle-aged captain's mind like a thunderbolt. His pupils constricted, and he shouted urgently:
"It's underground, move quickly!"

Before he finished speaking, he exerted force with both legs, and his body shot out. The invisibility effect dissipated most of its way, revealing a blurry figure.

He had only run a few meters when he abruptly stopped, staring blankly ahead, his face ashen.

"Captain, you..."

The dark-skinned, thin swordsman followed closely behind, but as his gaze swept across the night, he was speechless.

Thick fog enveloped them, and things kept breaking through the soil and crawling out, swaying and surrounding them, their figures indistinct.

The scene was filled with the stark white bones and the stench of corpses, as if one had instantly fallen into a dark and shadowy realm, where despair spread like a mist.

The middle-aged captain, his body radiating coldness, murmured, "The undead..."

The dark-skinned, thin ranger roared in despair, "Where are the watchmen? Why didn't they report it...?"

That's a stupid question; the scouts have already disappeared into the fog.

Only by venting can he feel that his body still belongs to him, instead of being dominated by despair.

He turned to look at the captain, his heart filled with regret. The captain's feeling was right; something was definitely wrong here.

The other team members stared blankly, instinctively drawing their weapons and staring blankly at their surroundings.

"Aren't those the bodies we buried?" the Black Dragon asked, pointing ahead with a trembling voice.

The middle-aged captain looked in the direction he pointed and saw a group of blood-soaked zombies staggering around. They were wearing tattered refugee clothes, with no signs of decay.

Judging from their appearance, they were the bodies of refugees that they had disposed of in the past few days.

“We’ve been living in someone else’s lair all this time,” the Black Dragon murmured.

"Calm down!" the middle-aged captain roared. "Do you even want to live?!"

He kicked them repeatedly, forcefully rousing their fighting spirit: "Cheer up, pick up your weapons, charge into formation..."

Upon hearing the instructions, everyone obeyed instinctively, a glimmer of hope rising in their hearts.

The middle-aged captain drew his longsword with a clang and pointed it forward: "Everyone, listen to my command! Break through to that camp! Charge!"

"kill--"

A mere dozen or so people pierced through the undead horde like sharp swords, advancing rapidly for over a hundred meters with unstoppable momentum.

But the undead that had just crawled out quickly realized what was happening and rapidly gathered towards the humans, surrounding them completely.

The team was stuck in a quagmire, unable to advance or retreat.
-
In my sleep, a strong sense of unease welled up in my heart.

Anser was suddenly awakened. The tent was pitch black, and it was quiet outside. Everything seemed normal.

With a click, the pocket watch popped open, revealing a faintly glowing dial with the hour hand just past two.

'This unease...'

He quietly got up, put on his shoes, picked up his staff, and as soon as he opened the tent, a damp mist rushed out, carrying a slight fishy smell.

Where is that stench coming from?

He closed the tent, got up, and looked around.

A soft snore came from Blatt's tent. A large bird perched on a dead tree stump not far away, with a human figure sitting beside it.

Nornos was sleeping standing up against the tent. Hearing the noise, he took small steps closer and nuzzled his big head against him, almost knocking him over.

Finn walked over carrying a lantern and, seeing Anser's grave expression, was taken aback: "What's wrong?" "Something's not right!" Anser felt uneasy but couldn't quite put his finger on it. "This thick fog, when did it start?"

“Around... early morning.” Finn wasn’t entirely sure.

“Send Grayhawk up there immediately to check.” Anser patted his arm.

Upon receiving Finn's order, the gray eagle let out a disgruntled cry, but still flapped its wings and took to the sky, circling low around the eagle several times.

“There’s nothing there.” Finn shook his head at Anser.

“No, no, no…” Anser murmured.

That uncomfortable feeling came back; he felt a tightness in his chest, but he couldn't figure out where it came from.

He glanced at the staff in his hand and his heart skipped a beat. A word escaped his lips: "Magic!"

There's something wrong with the magical environment here, it's subtle. "Magic Control" sensed something amiss, but couldn't pinpoint the problem.

"Go pack your things."

With that, Anser mounted Nornos and galloped toward the grassy slope to the east.

The sound of horses' hooves broke the silence of the night, waking many people.

As Anser crossed the grassy slope, the holy emblem in his arms suddenly became blazing hot, its light shining through the gaps in his cloak and illuminating his face.

But all I could see was a hazy, gray fog, and I couldn't see anything at all.

He turned and left without the slightest hesitation.

Nornos galloped straight into the camp, leaving the Night's Watch speechless.

"Wake everyone up and get out of here immediately, quick—"

Amon rushed out of the tent, shirtless: "What happened?"

Anser didn't speak, but pinched the chain around his neck and pulled it up, revealing the holy emblem on the diamond necklace through his cloak, its radiance dazzling everyone.

"Holy Emblem!" Amon was stunned for a moment, then realized what he meant. "Quick, quick, wake everyone up."

He didn't know what had happened, but he recognized the emblem of the God of Justice!
"Forget the tent, forget the stuff, put on your shoes, grab your weapons, and run..."

Eamon paced back and forth in the camp, carrying an axe and slapping anyone who lingered in his path, his expression growing increasingly impatient.

Anser returned to the campsite, where Finn and Blatt had already packed everything except the tent into their backpacks.

"Go west."

With that, he tied his backpack together, slung it over his horse, mounted, and rode off without waiting for Eamon and the others.

Finn jogged after him, while Blatt hesitated for a few seconds, his eyes filled with struggle, but he still chose to follow Anser.

"what happened?"

"do not know."

"what?"

The stonemasons' guild members also came out in small groups, a few at a time, looking resentful, trailing far behind.

Amon and Alva didn't emerge for several minutes. As they ran, they looked back, but there was nothing but mist and not even the chirping of insects or birds.

Just then, a bright light suddenly shone from behind, attracting everyone's attention.

Amidst the churning mist, a scorching ray of light burst forth, tearing through the fog and the night, spreading for dozens of meters.

Wherever it passed, dark figures fell to the ground, the mist dissipated, and even the moonlight became clearer.

The remaining mist could not obscure the view below, revealing hundreds of shadowy figures. The faint light in their pupils—sometimes a deep blue, sometimes a pale green, sometimes a grayish white—merged together, like a scene from the underworld, sending chills down one's spine.

“Undead!” Amon uttered through gritted teeth.

Just a few hundred meters from the camp, a group of blurry figures charged left and right among the undead, but could not escape the encirclement and fell one after another.

Without the fog's cover, the undead on the outskirts sensed the presence of the living, paused, and then chased after them in twos and threes.

Everyone froze for a moment, then turned and ran, using every ounce of strength they had, without a trace of resentment left.

"This has nothing to do with me. They would have gone through all this even if I hadn't come."

Anser has a mount, so he's not too worried.

(End of this chapter)