Witch Troupe and the Undead

The rain gradually subsided, and heavy footsteps echoed through the rain. "Iron Guard?" Syl's fingers, which were turning the pages of his book, suddenly stopped. "These things are really quite rare... no, that's not right, maybe they're quite common in this era?"

A type of war monster, formed by the mixture of the magic of the illusory concept of war and the spiritual magic remaining on the battlefield. It relies on the broken armor and weapons to eventually form a monster. In the past, this kind of monster was even considered a usable existence to resist the chaotic magic tide.

War is also a form of order, and there are rules in combat. The seemingly chaotic battlefield is actually constructed from a large number of regulations, orders, and other things that represent order. Therefore, this is a very rare "order-side" monster.

Its appearance is that of a rough humanoid creature several meters tall, with its main body made up of various armor fragments stacked together. The ends of its arms are twisted shapes made up of countless weapon fragments, which may be a large hammer, a rough greatsword, or other weapons.

It absorbs the weapons left behind on the battlefield to heal its own damage and strengthen itself. It is considered a rather troublesome thing in the Adventurers' Guild's bounty list, especially since this thing constantly emits a sound like a war drum from its body. This low hum will awaken the surrounding corpses, which will swarm around it in a zombie-like form.

If not dealt with promptly, you will soon see an army of the dead. What's worse, it's not a product of chaotic magic, not truly undead. These walking corpses are merely puppets controlled by the magic of order, rendering most anti-necromantic spells and divine grace ineffective.

"If the mentors of the dead saw this scene, they would probably scream."

Not being an undead creature, it cannot be destroyed by the power of the god of death, yet it is still a walking corpse, violating the doctrine of the dead resting in peace—"This is the consequence of not collecting corpses~ Are people in this era used to this?" The witch sighed; dealing with this kind of thing was also a bit tricky for her.

Fortunately, the Iron Guardian is an "orderly monster," which means it is different from those monsters that will attack all enemies in a frenzy. It follows certain rules and order. As long as you do not violate or meet certain attack rules, it will not take the initiative to attack. It acts or attacks according to its own logic and rules. The logic of each Iron Guardian is different, and it takes time to figure it out.

Iron Guard moved sluggishly across the battlefield, his body, pieced together from scrap metal and a jumble of weapons, shrouded in a rusty red glow. With each step he took, a deep drumbeat resounded from within his chest, soon drawing the attention of another war monster.

It was a flag-like object suspended in mid-air, constantly churning and twisting. At its core was a heart-shaped ball of light that kept beating, emitting inspiring horn sounds as it moved.

"They even have mournful battle banners, this is going to be interesting." These monsters will constantly use horn sounds to strengthen the surrounding war monsters and puppets. If there are only Iron Guards, these puppets are just mindless zombies that instinctively follow the Iron Guards. But with this thing, they will become an army of undead that obeys orders without question.

Simply put, this monster itself is fragile, but once it joins other war monsters, it becomes a completely different story. Alone, it could be dealt with with just a crossbow, but now…

"I hope those princess's soldiers are well-armored and their spears are sharp," the witch said, reinforcing the fiery cocoon with her hand before shaking her head and resuming her reading. The next day, on the outskirts of a camp at a crossroads about 20 miles from Silver Valley City.

"Ha~" The sentry yawned, standing loosely on the watchtower. The camp was full of wounded soldiers and lazy soldiers. The wandering knights sat on wooden barrels, boasting about their non-existent bravery. Because of the lack of supplies, the original siege had ended in a mess. Now they were all waiting here for supplies to be sent from the rear.

The plains of Rye Valley County have no train lines, which makes the previously smooth supply process seem like constipation here, because supplies need to be unloaded from the trains and then distributed to the front lines by horse-drawn carts. As for requisitioning food on the spot? Just look around. Even the villages that were not raided by the princess's army have been plundered by the duke's army, leaving only scorched earth.

As a result, the sentries were quite lax. The small groups of bandits had no intention of attacking a military camp, and the Grand Duke's army? They were only hoping to hold Silver Valley City and a small area around it. As long as the silver mines in Silver Valley City were still there, the Grand Duke could still accumulate strength. As for these villages and commoners, they were just things that would randomly respawn periodically, and the noble lords didn't care about them at all.

Just as the sentry was thinking it was going to be another boring day, something moving suddenly came into view. "Hmm? An enemy? Or...?" He was about to figure it out when a dark shadow appeared in front of him—a broken spear. "Thud!"

The sentry's body fell from the watchtower, a sudden event that jolted everyone awake, and the bells, signaling an enemy attack, rang instantly. On the muddy, rain-soaked plains, more individuals emerged; the Iron Guards, with sluggish, heavy steps, led dozens, even hundreds, of "squires" in an attack on the camp, like knights.

Behind them, the "Elegy Banner" fluttered violently, emitting an even higher and more mournful horn sound. On both sides, several monsters, a mixture of discarded military equipment and siege weapons, slowly swallowed broken spears, broken swords, and broken arrows into their mouths, and then hurled them towards the camp from the huge launch slots on their backs.

"It's a war monster!" The accompanying priest recognized it immediately. Thanks to the efforts of the Church of Death over the years, war monsters have become rare, or rather, this type of war monster is very rare.

However, this time the Church of Death simply did not have the time to deal with such a huge number of corpses and battlefield remnants; their capacity was also limited.

Thus, a war between humans and monsters quickly broke out. The war guards were not afraid of most weapon attacks, and only the spells of battle mages could slow them down. The walking dead were even more troublesome. At first, they thought they were undead creatures, but they found that the Holy Flame had a similar effect to fire.

Under the urging of the battle flag, these broken bodies, still clutching their weapons, even displayed a veteran-like discipline, which dealt a greater blow to the morale of the princess's army than the tall iron guards—not just anyone could swing a weapon at their comrades from just a few days ago, and even if they could, the psychological damage from those half-rotten corpses was not insignificant.

What's even more terrifying is that they aren't undead; they don't attack instinctively. They can dodge, and some even use combat skills from their previous lives, which further increases the pressure on the princess's army. However, relying on the strength of their camps, battle mages, and church forces, they are only somewhat overwhelmed, rather than being easily defeated.

"War monsters..." In the distant ruins of a village, four mounted knights looked at the chaotic camp, their pale faces etched with exhaustion. "Finally, they've managed to get their hands on these too!?"

As "Death Knights" of the Church of Death, they have been working at a high intensity these past few days—collecting corpses from the desolate villages after the looting, purifying the bodies of soldiers and discarded equipment tainted by the magic of war, burning down villages where plague has begun to appear, and killing the man-eating wild dogs that spread the disease.

Let alone the complicated purification ritual, the sheer size of the pits used to bury the corpses made these death knights' hands tremble. But if they didn't do it, not only would war monsters appear now, but after the war monsters were eliminated, the rotting corpses that weren't disposed of in time would spread a plague. After the plague, the death magic power accumulated by the dead creatures could cause a cataclysmic undead calamity.

The reason why the Church of Death is basically not popular on the mainland is this: the daily deaths and burials caused by the rivalries of these nobles are enough to keep them extremely busy. They are either collecting corpses or on their way to the next mass grave to collect corpses.

This has led the higher-ups of the Church of Death to even consider soliciting "war relief funds" from kings of various countries, since the money they usually earn from funeral services isn't even enough to cover their losses.

"Should we help?" "Let's do it, otherwise if more people die, we'll be busy for days." The knight commander sighed, drew a heavy sword as white as human bone, and shouted, "Charge!"

The divine power of death shrouds the blade and the body. The former allows the blade to inflict devastating damage on its target, but it is not very effective against war monsters. The latter allows them to smell the aura of "death," thus producing an effect similar to premonition or premonition, and avoiding those deadly injuries and attacks—of course, whether you can sense it or not is up to you.

Chapter 412 Why is the Death Priest always pale?

The Temple of the Dead, also known by the more familiar name "Sanctuary of the Dead" or "Funeral Home," is where the deceased undergoes all the procedures before encoffining: cleaning, stitching, purification, and blessing. The first three procedures are performed by the acolytes of the Temple of the Dead, while the last is performed by the corresponding church according to the deceased's beliefs during their lifetime.

In terms of procedures, basically everything before the deceased enters the cemetery and the funeral sermon and ceremony are performed by the Temple of Death or the Church of Death. If the deceased is a believer in the God of Death, there will be an additional trial ceremony.

Death is the most just concept in the world. Regardless of status, power, or strength, from gods to insects, everyone will eventually face the judgment of death.

Therefore, before the funeral blessing, the followers of Death will have a "judgment ceremony" performed on behalf of Death by the mentors of the Church of Death. This ceremony will summarize the merits and demerits of the deceased's life, make a final judgment, and inscribe it on a stone slab. This slab will be buried with the deceased, signifying that all the sins and merits of the person during their lifetime have been settled, leaving only a pure soul and a corpse.

Furthermore, the burial of followers of the Grim Reaper is usually done without the use of coffins or other containers. The ceremony is relatively simple and there are no burial goods. Since there are not many true followers of the Grim Reaper, after all, people are afraid of death. Those who are powerful and wealthy especially yearn to enjoy the glory and wealth they had in life even after death. Therefore, the dead who enjoy this set of rites are mostly unclaimed corpses or corpses left uncollected on the battlefield.

The Church of Death considers these people to be shallow believers in death, and temporarily grants them the identity of believers in order to give the dead a final bit of dignity. The most distinctive feature of the acolytes and knights of the Church of Death is that they often carry a shovel on their backs, which they use to dig a hole and bury the corpses they find by the roadside.

It can be said that without these diligent corpse collectors, the spread of the plague in this world would have been much more severe. Conversely, it is also because of these corpse collectors that the handling of corpses in wars in this world has been much more crude.

Nobles and professional soldiers were given proper burials by priests, while mercenaries and adventurers were buried wherever they died. As for the conscripted farmers and soldiers, they were stripped of their equipment and left to rot on the roadside or on the battlefield.

"Master, another batch is here..." A pale-faced acolyte with dark circles under his eyes rushed in and shouted. Most of Death's acolytes looked like this.

People say that they have been in contact with corpses and death for too long, so their lives have been eroded. The ignorant men and women in the countryside think these people are particularly unlucky. Of course, since the final demand still comes from these people, they just avoid them in social situations. If they encounter a death monk, they will still give him the offerings or alms he is supposed to give.

However, only those in the Church of the Dead knew that it wasn't due to excessive contact with corpses, but rather to working late into the night and overworking themselves. Since most funerals involved sending the deceased to the cemetery in the early morning for the ceremony, they had to stay up all night the day before to complete the handling of the deceased.

The work of collecting corpses on the battlefield is even more tedious and arduous, especially for nobles and generals who are incredibly efficient at creating death. In a sense, believers in death are the ones who cherish life the most—because for every additional person who dies, their workload increases.

"Which batch is this?!" In the dark, slumbering cemetery, illuminated by a few blazing torches, lay countless corpses, the stench of rotting flesh filling the air. The slumbering mentor, known as the Elder, sighed. "Is it the fifth or sixth batch?"

“This is the eighth batch,” the acolyte said. “Our men have found several more villages, and low-level undead creatures have begun to appear there. The Knights of Rest have already gone to deal with them.” Literally, they were sending these undead creatures to their final rest in a physical way, using greatswords, hammers, and flames. This seemed a bit disrespectful to the dead, but it was the only way to deal with undead creatures.

"Send them to Tomb No. 4 for processing..." These corpses were left here overnight, and the acolytes cleaned their faces and bodies, and stitched up any broken limbs that could be recovered.

Since the life stories of these people are unknown, a small ritual is still needed to dispel the remaining soul energy and fragments in their bodies, and to remove the "death magic" that has begun to emerge. They are then wrapped in shrouds and stacked layer by layer in the public cemetery.

After this is completed, holy oil made from lavender and peppermint is burned around the cemetery to represent the dispelling of evil spirits and malice that might possess the corpses. Finally, in the name of the god of death, the judgment of these people is announced, usually pardoning all the sins they committed while still alive, because dying violently and being left to rot in the wilderness is enough to atone for most of their sins.

Several large trucks parked outside were filled with all sorts of corpses—human, horse, and dog—mixed together. Animal carcasses were the easiest to deal with; whether other wild animals ate them or people picked them up and ate them, it would prevent the birth of undead creatures. However, these half-rotten corpses that died on the battlefield were too much for the scavenging animals to eat, so they could only be handed over to the Church of Death to collect one by one.

"Separate humans and animals, throw the animals into the disposal pit, and send the humans to the tomb, my God..." No matter how much they armed themselves with faith, they were still human. Seeing these half-rotten or even completely rotten corpses, a group of acolytes and apprentices still felt their scalps tingle, especially since some of them had died and were driven up by magic, only to be knocked down again by the Parthian knights with their hammers.

"There wasn't time to do a complete encoffining. We just washed them, wrapped them in shrouds, and stuffed two extra sticks of holy oil into each body for incense."

"Those that can't be contained will be sent to the incinerator to be burned." Four mass graves have been dug around the cemetery, three of which are already full and the fourth is half full. Strong workers carry the bodies wrapped in shrouds and throw them into the pits one by one. Each layer is covered with holy oil and lavender petals, and so on until the pits are completely filled. Then a board made of wooden planks inscribed with runes and consecration symbols is placed on top, and that's it.

Amidst the commotion, the rapid sound of hooves approached, and a knight in a black cloak reined in his horse. "The princess's camp has been attacked by war monsters. The knight commander has led his men to deal with it, but the number of dead there is too high. Those war guards have summoned far too many corpses..."

The ritual of death can prevent corpses from becoming undead creatures, but it cannot prevent these unrotted corpses from being infused with magic into puppets. These are two completely different things. The former is a "creature" driven by the fire of the soul and whose thoughts are constituted by the obsessions of the deceased, while the latter is simply a manipulated dead object, just like a flesh and blood puppet.

This also means that the War Guards will revive the corpses they have painstakingly buried and disposed of, and then they will have to bury these corpses again. Otherwise, these corpses that have not yet returned to the cycle will absorb the broken soul fragments that are floating all over the battlefield and will immediately turn into zombies again.

"How many Parthian Knights are still able to move? Bring your men and follow me!" The High Priest had no choice but to put down the corpse he was dealing with and immediately summoned the Parthian Knights, who had just rested for a while, to set off. On the other side, the black-haired witch also encountered a small group of undead creatures blocking her way.

"Whoosh~" A gust of damp wind blew by, and the almost burned skeleton collapsed, leaving not a trace of soul behind, like dust blown away by the wind.

"It seems the Eternal Slumber Messengers will soon be busy." The mercenary looked at the Silver Valley City walls, blackened by the flames of war. Undead creatures could be found less than two hundred paces from the walls, so one could only imagine what the scene was like below the city, where corpses were piled up the most. The city might even be overrun with zombies.

“When are they ever not busy?” The black-haired witch Antiseth Syl rubbed her fingers together, extinguishing the white flames. “If even they weren’t busy, the world would truly be doomed.”

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Alright? That means even the messengers of death have abandoned their duties. You don't think death will disappear from this world, do you?" The witch rolled her eyes. "Let's go, let's go into the city." "Miss Antiseth, why do we have to be in Silver Valley City? What are you looking for?"

"Find a room"

What kind of room?

"You can stay in the rest room, but if you want to stay outside in the cold wind, I have no objection." At the gates of Silver Valley City, when the guards discovered two unidentified individuals appearing below the city walls, they promptly sounded the alarm.

At this point, normal people wouldn't cross the battlefield outside the city and come directly in from here. If it were the enemy, there would be too few of them; and they didn't seem like refugees either—perhaps messengers? The guards on the city wall shouted, "Who are you?! What are you doing here?"

"Passing travelers wish to rest in the city," the mercenary shouted, but there was no response from the city walls.

"Travelers? Are you kidding me? The princess's army is right outside. How did they get across the battlefield?"

"I don't want to cause trouble, but we really need a rest," the mercenary shouted again, but the witch waved him off, telling him to stop talking nonsense.

"Are you going to open the door yourselves, or should I blast it open and let you in?" The white flames were like clay, rolled into a ball in his hand, stretched and flattened in turns. This kind of manipulation made the battle mages on the city wall change their expressions. A high-level archmage? It was not surprising that a spellcaster of this strength could pass through the battlefield.

"Squeak~" A basket was lowered from the city wall. "Sorry, Master, we cannot confirm your identity. Do you have any identification?" Because they could not rule out the possibility that he was a mage from the Princess's army. If he had infiltrated and cast a powerful spell in the city, that would be terrible.

"No," the witch said, indicating that she had no identification. Her identification was useless in this era. Could she tell you that she was from hundreds or thousands of years ago?

"I'll count to ten. Either you open the door, or I'll blow it open."

"Miss, are you always this arrogant?" The mercenary wanted to back away, but he was afraid that if he left the protection of this powerful female mage, he would be shot by the people on the city wall.

"Really? I used to just blast them."

"..." It's really not easy for you to have lived this long.

Finally, the city gates slowly opened. It wasn't out of fear of the witch's threat, but because such a high-profile person wouldn't become a spy. Hiring a spellcaster to do this kind of thing is already quite costly, and to do it so ostentatiously is as if they're afraid of being shot. Even if the princess is willing to take this risk, she would still need to find a high-level spellcaster willing to do it. They would hold high positions in any country they go to, so there's really no need to go to such lengths.

Unless there's some personal obligation or constraint that forces you to do this, or there's really no other way, and such a low-probability event is extremely unlikely, the chances of offending a high-level spellcaster and getting them to do something drastic are much higher.

To risk a low-probability outcome for a high-probability disastrous result is undoubtedly a case of losing the big picture for a small gain.

Everywhere in the city, one could see the aftermath of the fire: collapsed buildings, charred wood, and corpses covered with cloth lying haphazardly beneath the crumbling walls on both sides of the streets, or refugees huddled in corners. A stench of burning mixed with the scent of death permeated every corner.

"Let's find a place to rest and give this Duke some face," Antistheses snapped her fingers. Although it wasn't easy to find an inn that was still open in this city, with the help of the witch's power and the gold coins, she quickly found a place to stay.

A noble mansion, whose owner had died in battle, and which showed obvious signs of damage, reportedly looted by fleeing soldiers and bandits during the previous siege.

Faced with the witch's gold coins and power, the current heir did not hesitate to temporarily "rent" the mansion to her for a place to stay, while he himself was packing his belongings, clearly preparing to leave Silver Valley City while the princess's army retreated. Many people had the same plan, so much so that the refugees who tried to sell their meager possessions to exchange for bread for tomorrow were almost unable to make a living.

Meanwhile, in Silver Maple City, two cities that share the word "silver," the scene was completely different. As night fell, the city lights came on, and the crystals hanging on the silver maple trees emitted a faint blue glow, attracting swarms of fireflies.

The subtly sweet scent of trees mingled with the aromas of dinner and street food, filling the air. Livia held a skewer of different snacks in each hand, and curiously took a bite. "Mmm~ So sweet~"

Candied berries made with locally sourced maple syrup look a bit like Chinese candied hawthorn skewers, but they are sweeter and lack the sourness of hawthorn. As a result, even people who love sweets will find them too sweet after eating a couple of skewers, making them a popular snack for children.

The other type was a deep-fried vegetable dish coated in batter, sprinkled with a little pepper and basil. If you were willing to pay a little more, you could also add sour cream. The taste seemed a bit strange to Roach.

"We've almost finished purchasing everything. Next, we'll prepare to reforge the armor and weapons, right? By the way, Leslie, what about the daily necessities you went to buy?" Including new bedding and tableware, everyone also needs to buy some clothes to change into. We only bought Livia's robes in the capital before, and didn't buy any casual clothes, mainly because the prices in the capital were too high.

Prices in Silver Maple City are much cheaper. Or to be more precise, clothing prices in the capital are extremely polarized, ranging from high-end to very low-end.

Mid-to-high-end and mid-to-low-end clothes are more common in Silver Maple City. Another reason is that going from the capital to the Living Forest means moving from a low-temperature area to a higher-temperature area further south, which means you need to buy new clothes.

"And you are..." The old tailor, wearing round, black-rimmed glasses, looked at the large group of people of all shapes and sizes, men, women, and children who had entered, and seemed somewhat confused. "Hmm... let's take a look first." Roach's gaze swept over the fabrics. Most of them were common high-grade linen, and there were also some rather unique alchemical textiles. However, most of them were not for making clothes, but for making accessories and belts. If they were made into clothes, the texture might not be very comfortable.

Are you choosing one for this young lady?

“No, it’s all of us,” Alessina said, tossing a purse on the table. Her change of clothes was also badly damaged. Leon was in even worse shape; he had nothing else to wear but the one he was wearing, and he couldn’t wear anyone else’s clothes, so he would have to buy more.

"Please follow me, everyone." The old tailor gestured for everyone to follow him to the workshop at the back. He could tell at a glance that with Leon's figure, there were definitely no standard-sized ready-made clothes here that would fit. And since Alasina was a beast-demon, there would be no ready-made clothes that fit her in the Empire.

Roach and Leslie, on the other hand, didn't care. But judging from the high-grade material of the little witch's robe, they didn't have any ready-made clothes of that level or quality here. So, none of them looked like servants or commoners. They were probably adventurers or noble ladies and their knights. Therefore, what they needed was not the standard ready-made clothes outside, but something made to order according to their individual circumstances.

"It needs to be lightweight and breathable, but not too sheer, since there are mostly girls here." This was Luo Qi's first time buying clothes at a tailor shop. He used to buy clothes online, and the ready-made clothing stores in the capital were similar to physical stores. He was still quite unfamiliar with this kind of custom-made clothing.

“If we’re heading to the dense forests to the south, then a dress wouldn’t be suitable. How about a hunting outfit?” The old tailor glanced at the little witch. “Of course, this young lady doesn’t need one.” She didn’t look like she was old enough to ride a horse. Instead, she was holding a staff, suggesting she was a spellcaster, and therefore needed clothes suitable for a spellcaster.

Spellcasters' clothing is often a wide-sleeved robe or a long skirt. On the one hand, their clothes need a large area of ​​neat fabric to draw runes, as the shirts worn by workers and knights are not convenient for drawing continuous strings of runes. On the other hand, this kind of clothing allows for the addition of many hidden pockets and straps in the lining, thereby concealing the magical items they carry or the spells they prepare in secret.

Therefore, spellcasters' clothing is mostly very loose-fitting, with exaggerated skirts and cuffs that hang down to cover the entire palm, making it difficult to detect what spells they are preparing. At the same time, the materials need to be fire-resistant, corrosion-resistant, and have a certain affinity with magic, which also means that most of them are not very comfortable to wear.

If comfort is to be achieved, then high-quality silk and other materials need to be added to the lining. Both the craftsmanship and the material price are much higher than normal clothes. Fortunately, spellcasters, especially intermediate and advanced spellcasters, are not short of money, and apprentices who are short of money have no right to complain about comfort.

“She won’t do. She’s a mermaid, she still needs a skirt to keep her legs from turning into a fishtail,” Roach said, pointing at Leslie. Although Leslie’s skill hadn’t been used yet, you can’t wait until you need it to prepare—you can’t just have her take off her pants the next time you really need her to dive, can you? That would be too much of a shock.

"Wait a minute, speaking of which, Leslie, don't you mermaids wear underwear under your skirts? Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to turn into a fishtail..."

"..." Leslie really wanted to punch Lulua in the head to smash the brains out of her, but... she felt it would be easier for Lulua to punch her instead, so she could only remain silent in response.

"They need to wear clothes. Their partial deformation starts from the upper thigh down, not from the waist, unless it's complete deformation, in which case they have to take their clothes off." Roach answered Lulua's question, and this little bit of knowledge made everyone except Livia show an awkward but polite smile.

"I understand now." The tailor felt it would be better to discuss such suggestive words one by one in the lounge next to the workshop.

Chapter 413 You're fired!

Outside Silver Maple City.

Three carriages slowly came to a stop by the roadside. The driver looked up at the small hill by the roadside. When did this small hill appear? It wasn't here yesterday.

"Don't worry about anything else, just move the stuff up there and don't touch anything," the foreman snapped, signaling the workers to carry the wooden crates from the back of the wagon to the wooden hut at the top of the hill. There were no people there to sign for the goods, only an ox and a horse standing by the herb field, looking at them with strange eyes.

"Are they all here?" As the wooden crates were stacked up, the porters were about to ask when they saw the crates sink into the ground as if into water, leaving nothing behind. The porters immediately retreated to the edge of the steps with expressions of horror.

"This……"

"It's a great mage's workshop, don't make a fuss!" The manager was also panicked, but he couldn't show it and could only pretend to be calm.

"Quickly, put all the goods down."

Before setting off, the shopkeeper had already given instructions that this was an order from a high-level arcane mage. Although his limited magical knowledge made it difficult for him to understand this unusual phenomenon, it was common knowledge that one should not try to understand the various things in a high-level mage's workshop or home, unless you were also an arcane mage of the same level.

Soon, everything on the carriage was unloaded. No one signed for it, but neither the porters nor the coachman wanted to stay any longer, and the manager did the same; they all fled as if they were running away.

at the same time.

Inside the tailor shop, Roach and Livia had also finalized their custom-made clothes with the old tailor. His and Livia's clothes were the easiest to make, both being standard alchemist robes and female mage skirts. However, the former needed to be altered to use a lighter and more breathable material, while the latter needed to be altered to fit Livia's figure, since this was the first time he had encountered such a small spellcaster customer.

They all use the most expensive imported spider silk fabric in the store, made from the large spider silk of the Shadow Valley. It is considered a magical material, lightweight and breathable, and has strong defense against sharp weapons, especially arrows. Ordinary arrows will be quickly entangled by these high-strength and elastic threads, so that they do not penetrate too deeply into the flesh and are easier to pull out.