16: Chapter 16 A Visitor on a Rainy Night

Before nightfall, Hoffman had to announce that they would make camp.

There were no watchtowers this time, so they had to find a slightly elevated patch of woodland beside the trade route, circle the carriages, and pitch a few simple tents inside.

Everyone was a veteran, so no one complained; they silently pitched tents, tethered the horses, and started a fire.

They had to use several tarps underneath the pile to get the fire barely lit.

The orange flames flickered unsteadily in the curtain of rain, casting flickering shadows across everyone's faces.

Richard volunteered to take the first watch with two other young attendants.

He certainly felt tired too; his whole body was sore and swollen, and his knees creaked with every step.

But the disappearance that happened this morning made him very uncomfortable, and deep down, he even felt an inexplicable sense of alertness.

In all the horror movies he had seen in his previous life, the first person to disappear was never the last, and this way of vanishing without a trace was more chilling than any bloody crime scene.

He propped his halberd by his side, kept his battle axe hanging within easy reach at his left waist, and stood in the gap between the carriages, facing the darkness outside the trade route.

The night was thick, and apart from the rustling of rain on the leaves and the occasional snore from the tents behind him, he could hear nothing.

Throughout the entire night, it seemed as if there was no movement at all.

When dawn broke, the rain stopped for a moment.

The sun leaked a few rays of light through the gaps in the clouds, shining onto the wet trade route and steaming up a thin layer of mist.

Then the Old Coachman habitually began to count the headcount.

His hand froze in mid-air halfway through, his lips trembled, and the voice he let out was filled with fear of the unknown: "Three."

"What do you mean, three?" The old merchant Hoffman crawled out of his tent, his clothes still untucked, revealing half of his belly.

"Three more people are missing," the Old Coachman replied tremblingly.

A total of three people were missing from the caravan's tents—three attendants.

They had been sleeping in the same tent; their bedding was still laid out, the quilts were turned back, and their clothes, backpacks, and water skins were all left in their original places, completely untouched.

One person's boots were still neatly placed beside their bedding, toes facing outward, as if waiting for their owner to slip their feet into them.

But the people were gone. Still, there was no sound, no trace; even the attendants sleeping on the other side of the tent hadn't noticed anything unusual.

Richard stood at the tent entrance, watching, and he felt a chill run up his spine.

He hadn't slept at all last night; he had even specially drunk sage water to stay alert and had stood the entire watch.

He could be certain that nothing had approached the camp from outside the carriages, yet those three people had just inexplicably vanished.

"Something is hunting us," Cecilia's voice sounded from behind him.

"It is definitely not a beast, nor is it bandits or brigands. I fear it is some despicable dark creature."

Val rubbed her eyes, which were red from lack of sleep, and for once, she didn't start cursing.

"Captain, what should we do? Damn it, this cursed weather is also working against us!"

Cecilia patted Val on the shoulder and said, "The enemy is in the shadows while we are in the light. Do not linger; keep moving and reach Blackstone City as quickly as possible."

"We will travel during the day, as far as we can go. I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for even a moment longer—"

The merchant Hoffman's voice was also filled with fear; in all his years of trading, he had never encountered such a bizarre event.

This time, the carriages couldn't even make it ten miles.

The rainstorm returned in the afternoon, even more ferocious than in previous days.

The dark clouds pressed down extremely low, almost touching the treetops.

Lightning rumbled dully deep within the clouds, occasionally striking down a bolt of pale light that illuminated the entire trade route as bright as day, before quickly sinking back into deeper darkness.

The thunder shook the horses, causing them to bolt in terror; the Old Coachman used all his strength to pull on the reins, preventing the horses from breaking free and running wild.

The mud was deep up to their calves, and the carriages were moving through the mud at a snail's pace.

Everyone was soaked through; some had purple lips from the cold, and their fingers were too stiff to hold their weapons.

By nightfall, they hadn't even found a decent place to make camp.

They could only stop in a slightly more open space beside the trade route, circle the carriages, and huddle together inside the circle.

No one suggested pitching tents, because doing so in this rain would be futile, just as starting a fire would be futile; likewise, no one intended to sleep.

"Get ready. There will be no rest tonight."

Cecilia drew her longsword, strapped her shield tightly onto her left arm, and her blonde hair plastered against her forehead.

"Everyone, stand back-to-back and keep your weapons in your hands. No matter what that damn thing is, it will come again tonight."

"May the Great Goddess bless us and save us!" Liam squatted on the ground, praying.

The holy scripture in his arms had been ruined by the rain; the pages were stuck together, and the prayers written on them were mostly blurred.

But he still clutched it tightly, like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood.

"One the first day, three the second day, and tonight... God, have we encountered a demon?"

Richard interrupted him, his voice very calm: "Liam, prepare your divine arts and get ready to fight."

His knuckles were white from gripping his halberd. Of course, he also felt a trace of fear and unease in his heart, but there was more of a certain violent emotion.

He firmly believed in one truth: anything, as long as it dared to show itself, could be killed.

What was truly terrifying was not a powerful enemy, but an invisible one.

If that thing dared to show itself tonight, he would definitely run his halberd through its body! He would let it know what true cruelty was!

The night passed second by second.

The rain went from a downpour to a drizzle, and back from a drizzle to a downpour, over and over, endlessly.

Lightning occasionally split the night sky, illuminating the entire clearing in a deathly pale light.

Hoffman's fat face was full of pure terror; the Old Coachman was closing his eyes and silently reciting some prayer; the few surviving attendants gripped their spears tightly, the spearheads trembling violently in the rain.

Cecilia's blue eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, Val's fists were already wrapped with new hand wraps, and Liam was still praying incessantly.

Almost everyone was staring into the depths of the darkness.

"—Rumble!" Lightning struck down.

Three consecutive bolts of lightning struck down from the clouds almost at the same time, the deathly pale electric light illuminating the entire clearing brighter than at noon.

In that less than a second of white light, Richard clearly saw a figure that had appeared abruptly.

At the edge of the clearing, less than a few dozen paces outside the circle formed by the carriages, stood a man.

He was wearing a finely tailored deep red velvet overcoat, with a snow-white silk cravat tied at his collar, and his black leather boots were polished to a shine, not a speck of mud on them despite the muddy ground.

His face was very young, looking to be no more than twenty years old; his features were far more exquisite than any mortal's, with high, sharp cheekbones, a straight nose bridge, and skin so pale it didn't look like that of a living person.

His hair was jet black, neatly combed back.

The thing that made it impossible to look away was his eyes.

These eyes were dark red, like diluted blood, with vertical pupils that still emitted a faint red glow the moment the lightning went out.

Then the lightning went out, and the darkness swallowed everything once again.