Other nobles, even if they didn't travel with dozens or hundreds of attendants, at least made sure their carriages looked luxurious. Unlike them—their caravan had no trace of noble grandeur, looking more like a merchant family being escorted by mercenaries.
Of course, there was a way to deal with such situations—just pay a toll. When the Mandrake Trading Company passed through here before, that was exactly how they handled it.
But things didn't go quite as Witt expected.
As their convoy reached a small valley, a large group of people suddenly surged out from both sides of the cliffs. Their clothes were torn and ragged, their appearance miserable—but Witt's sharp eyes caught a flash of cold metal hidden beneath those rags.
If he wasn't mistaken, what lay beneath those shabby clothes were knight's armors. And looking at their burly, bull-like physiques—they were clearly not ordinary bandits. If anything, they looked more like…
Regular soldiers.
That realization darkened Witt's expression. Bandits could be reasoned with, but soldiers disguised as bandits were an entirely different threat. A few gold coins wouldn't make them back off—this time it might cost hundreds.
Still, to ensure Hel's safety, Witt decided to go forward and negotiate. Especially after noticing that the other side had two fourth-rank powerhouses—this only reinforced his suspicion.
Hel wanted to keep a low profile, which was why their caravan looked so plain. But to make sure the other party stayed in line, Witt decided to show a little strength.
He slowly floated toward the enemy.
Before he could even speak, the soldiers in front suddenly parted, revealing a massive military-grade ballista behind them.
"An alchemical siege ballista? That absurd thing should only be stationed on the Watchwall—why is it here?"
The thought barely formed in Witt's head when the weapon—said to pierce even a dragon's scales—was already fired at him.
Seeing this, Witt didn't dare to hold back. He instantly activated the defensive array engraved on his body. A thunderous boom echoed through the valley.
Witt was blasted far back through the air, though the massive bolt that hit him shattered into dust against his barrier.
"Damn, that hit hard. A three-thousand-gold bolt just to shoot at me? Guess they really think I'm worth it."
Swallowing hard, Witt prepared to retaliate before they could reload—he'd show them what a fifth-rank mage's wrath truly meant.
But before he could strike again, Hel's calm voice stopped him.
"That's enough, come back. They're here for me."
Hel stepped down from the carriage, gazing thoughtfully at the soldiers on the distant slope.
"Ten fourth-ranks, fifty third-ranks, and about two hundred second-rank transcendents…Sending a force like that just to deal with me—the backing behind this is no small one. But to attack me so openly—are you really not afraid of my retaliation, Caramel family?"
At Hel's raised voice, the leading fourth-rank soldier froze for a moment before his face twisted into a cold sneer.
Because of this person, the Caramel Family had lost two key members, their entire market share in the Kingdom of Selphis, and suffered betrayal from the other nobles of the Confectionery Nation. The losses were devastating.
And now this bastard dared to appear here—bold as ever? Did he really forget whose territory this was?
Of course, the man only thought these words; he couldn't say them aloud. Right now, they were bandits, not Caramel retainers. Whether this mission succeeded or failed, they would remain "bandits" in name.
Still, they had underestimated that scholar-country mage. They hadn't expected him to survive a hit from the fourth-rank alchemical ballista—a weapon that matched a knight's full-power strike. Even a heavily armored fourth-rank knight would've been skewered, yet that man blocked it with a single pre-engraved defensive array.
That was beyond their expectations.
"So, a fifth-rank mage then…" he thought grimly, quietly pulling a magic scroll from his spatial ring. If the man approached again—he'd blast him to ashes with this fifth-rank spell.
But then, the mage retreated on command. Did they somehow notice his plan? Not good. He needed to find a way to lure the fool back in.
Before he could devise one, the knights surrounding Hel's carriage drew their swords in perfect unison.
The enemy soldiers blinked in confusion. Those guards didn't emit any battle aura at all—they looked like ordinary people. Were they seriously planning to fight transcendents with commoners? Were they insane?
Yet the moment the knight puppets charged into battle, the enemy's expressions instantly changed.
"That's… mithril heavy armor—damn it! These guys are using concealment enchantments!"
A third-rank archer loosed an arrow, piercing one puppet's cloak and revealing the silvery gleam of mithril armor beneath. Realizing their cover was blown, Hel stopped hiding it altogether.
With a wave of her small hand, she had the cat-girl Niv command the puppet knights to fight at full power.
What followed was a massacre.
Within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, every soldier hidden in the valley was slaughtered by the twenty puppet knights.
As the puppets cleaned up the corpses, Hel turned to Anna.
"Anna, send one of the elven maids to check about two hundred meters down the road behind us. There's a little mouse that's been following us all night."