The Paladin in the Abyss

Chapter 156 Reconnaissance

"I plan to go out on a reconnaissance mission tonight, to find out exactly how far away our target is and whether there are any other things in the wilderness," Lancelot spoke with calm assurance. "I can go alone. You all rest well, and I will be back before dawn."

"That's too dangerous!" Kalalin was the first to voice his opposition. "This is the Abyss, the home of Demons. Who knows what might be out there in the wilderness at night? If a battle breaks out, how will you manage alone?"

"So the plan is not to let a battle happen," Lancelot shrugged. "This is just a scouting mission, and I'll remain cautious. You've all seen how fast I am; ordinary Demons won't be able to catch me."

Everyone looked around at each other, but nobody spoke.

"Let's discuss the plans for tonight," Lancelot changed the subject. "Don't be fooled by the comfortable surroundings; it's still dangerous here. We need someone to keep watch at night."

"I've already had enough rest, so I'll take the first watch," Alamir offered firmly.

"That bit of rest just now was enough for you?" Koula asked in surprise.

"We Elves rest through meditation, and it's twice as efficient as your way," Alamir explained. "Of course, it would be great if someone else could join me. Having two on watch is a bit safer."

"I'll do it!" Koula cheerfully volunteered. "I had a decent snooze just now and still feel quite alert, and I need to prepare some potions for upcoming use anyway. We left in such a hurry this time."

"When you're done, wake me up to take over. I need to make some scrolls," Kalalin also spoke. "Bruto hasn't rested yet, so you don't need to get up tonight."

"I need to catch some sleep too," Eckmond said with a yawning sigh. "You can swap out for me on the last shift."

"You need sleep as well?" Lancelot looked curiously at the skeleton head. "Aren't you an Undead creature?"

"Don't know why, but I just do," Eckmond rolled his eyes. "And just to correct you, I'm a Mimir, should be considered a living construct, right? It's just that I stayed in that pit for too long, so I got a bit of a dead-man's stench. Don't believe me? Ask Alamir; he's very sensitive to the Undead."

Clearly, these were Lancelot's peers—a band of desperados chasing bounties. It wasn't difficult to identify their leader: a bare-chested, incredibly muscular Barbarian lying on a chair in the middle of the camp, with a gigantic hammer as big as an iceberg behind him and two Succubi kneeling at his feet, while the others around him viewed the beastly man with envious yet fearful eyes.

"Boss, what do we do with that Holy Warrior bitch once we catch her?"

The broken speech drifted in from the wind, still caught by Lancelot's keen hearing. An Orc was greedily watching the actions of the two Succubi, asking without thinking.

"First, I'll get to enjoy a few good days with her, and then we'll see who makes the best offer," the Mercenary Leader responded with smug assurance as if the prize was already his.

He turned to look at the one who had asked the question, then his face darkened abruptly, and he lunged forward.

"You traitor!" He grabbed the questioning Orc by the throat and hoisted him into the air with one hand, "Your eyes have betrayed you, speak! Have you been scheming all along to replace me?"

Lancelot noticed that the leader was two heads taller than himself, nearing almost 8 feet in height. The hoisted Orc dangled his legs feebly, only able to plead with his eyes for his defense.

The commotion drew everyone's attention, but instead of intervening, the onlookers began to cheer loudly. As the clear 'snap' sound echoed, the cheers reached their peak.

While everyone's focus was on the brutal leader, Lancelot quietly approached the camp. He cast a spell, leaving his Divine Sense mark on several mercenaries, then retreated silently.

If the convoy escorting Elothysia was as formidable as the Tiflin boss had said, then this group might still be of some use.

But as he returned to the rocks, preparing to leave the evil mercenaries and continue on his journey, he suddenly felt a chilling sensation, as if a snake slithered up the back of his neck.

The Concealment Art was almost instinctively activated, and Lancelot lay motionless in the shadows, now indistinguishable from the lifeless stones around him.

At the entrance to the camp, the light of Teleportation Magic suddenly flared, and a figure that presented an extreme danger emerged from it.