Whenever they flew over the fortress, their deep hum and oppressive presence always made the Mercenaries inside instinctively lower their heads, daring not to look up.
In contrast, whenever the fortress gates opened to reveal the "big shots" who once dominated the Dark Land—now stripped of their gear and herded in like livestock in a pathetic state—the faces of these Mercenaries, long accustomed to life as captives, would always twist with schadenfreude.
It had evidently become a rare source of amusement in their tedious lives as prisoners.
Seeing these once high-and-mighty figures meet the same fate, the pent-up frustration in their hearts didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore...
What was strange, however, was that the number of captives being escorted in this time seemed exceptionally large. The line waiting to enter the fortress stretched out so far that its end was out of sight.
A sharp-eyed Adventurer squinted, searching carefully through the dejected crowd of prisoners. When he got a clear look at two of the most heavily guarded figures, he couldn’t help but gasp in astonishment.
"That’s Nicholas Avery, head of administration for the Black Teeth Mercenary Corps! What’s he doing here?!"
"What?! Are you sure?!"
A jolt went through the surrounding Mercenaries. They all squinted, straining to see in that direction.
When they clearly recognized the man’s face, they were too stunned to speak.
’Damn it! It really is Nicholas Avery.’
The infamous skinflint from the Black Teeth Mercenary Corps, notorious for skimming off the top of their bounties.
In the Dark Land, since the true Blood Race nobles at the top rarely bothered with managing affairs, he was the one who called the shots for the Black Teeth Mercenary Corps.
Black Teeth had a near-monopoly on all intelligence and bounty-hunting business in the Dark Land, essentially operating as the Adventurers’ Guild.
As a result, Nicholas’s position was equivalent to that of a Guild master in the Dark Land.
In the past, even when Mercenaries knew he was secretly skimming off their bounties, they could only grit their teeth and accept it. They didn’t dare offend the man.
Otherwise, they’d be barred from even setting foot inside the Black Teeth Mercenary Corps’ headquarters the very next day.
That was just part of the price of making a living in the Dark Land.
But now... things were different.
’Even the skinflint Nicholas is a prisoner. Does that mean...’
"The war at the front is already over?!"
"How could it be so fast?!"
The Adventurers and Mercenaries who had been enjoying the spectacle just moments before now felt like they were the main attraction.
’This is bad. The whole world is being turned upside down...’
After such a long period of stagnation, the first and most thorough change to befall the decadent Dark Land was the arrival of a new master.
And this new master was a swarm of Slimes that had crawled out of a swamp!
This sight undeniably caused a shift in the mindset of many of the Adventurers and Mercenaries.
The feeling was subtle, almost surreal.
But the impact of the Dark Land’s complete conquest by the Demon Legion extended far beyond this single outpost.
Even the Garrison Legion, which guarded the border of the White Horse Kingdom, received an urgent intelligence report by noon the following day.
...
By noon the next day, the sky was still a blanket of gray haze that seemed as if it would never clear.
Storm Fortress—a military stronghold built in a treacherous mountain pass, resembling a crouching steel behemoth—looked all the more foreboding under the gloomy clouds.
Its towering walls, constructed from massive, blue-gray stones, were riddled with the scars of time and battle.
Arrow towers dotted the ramparts, while inside the fortress, a network of roads connected orderly barracks, storehouses, and workshops.
Due to the damp air, even at midday, the needles of the hardy spruce trees planted within were still beaded with moisture, swaying gently in the breeze.
At that moment, a figure strode across the fortress’s central plaza as swiftly as a gale. The gust of wind she created stirred the branches of a nearby spruce, shaking loose the water droplets clinging to its needles.
Her crisp Knight’s uniform outlined an athletic frame. Her long brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, swaying slightly with each step.
It was Alice Arevalo.
"Lady Alice, good afternoon." A soldier clutching a large stack of intelligence files stopped in his tracks, straightened his posture, and saluted respectfully.
"Mm," Alice acknowledged with a slight nod. Without breaking her brisk pace, she entered the main keep and proceeded down a dimly lit stone corridor.
From inside her uniform’s collar, where he was disguised as a decorative feather, Count Brand spoke through their Gel connection. "A meeting at high noon? Is a demon tide coming?"
Alice shook her head slightly. "I’m not sure yet, but my father has already gone ahead."
"For the three Extraordinary leaders to gather for a discussion, this can’t be a trivial matter."
Count Brand muttered, "Could they have discovered our plans and decided to make a move first?"
Alice just shook her head again without a word.
In truth, she harbored the same fear.
Whether it was Lid, stationed in Shield River City, or the two Extraordinary Knights at Storm Fortress—Dominic "Radiant Sword" Elvin and Simo "Heavy Steel" Barnes—all of them had been propped up by the Demon Forces.
They had traded their souls for the power to become Extraordinary and had subsequently been handed control of the Garrison Legion.
If the Arevalo Clan hadn’t discovered some unusual clues in Arthur’s suspicious death over a decade ago and secretly remained vigilant ever since, their entire family might have fallen long ago, becoming mere puppets of the Demons.