Not long after the group entered the cave, a small skirmish broke out outside. Its origin came from the two cultists who had been secretly watching.
Out in the forest, the two cultists kept a close eye on the situation and acted.
"Right now, only five guards remain outside. It seems there are no Mages among them."
After some waiting, the Mage in the black cloak sent his centipede into the mist and discovered this.
Hearing the situation, the other could not wait, immediately drew his blade, and asked:
"Kill them now?"
"Even with me supporting from behind, you'll have to face five of them head‑on. Each one is no amateur. Can you handle it?"
The Mage voiced a reasonable concern.
"Don't underestimate me. As long as you restrain two with magic, I can deal with the rest myself."
He sneered, brimming with confidence. The Mage, confident he could handle two, agreed.
"Fine, I'll count to three and then cast magic to open a path for you."
"Let's do it."
He gripped his blade tightly, crouched low, one foot sliding back. Ready to charge at the signal.
"One... Two... Three."
At once, a large fireball shot from the Mage toward the cave entrance.
Following it, the swordsman dashed forward, rushing the guards.
Though ambushed, the guards did not panic, responding with discipline.
After all, these were soldiers carefully chosen by Commander Will. None were novices.
With shields raised, they activated enhancement techniques and successfully blocked the blast without serious harm.
A few nearby suffered minor burns, but nothing that hindered their combat ability.
The swordsman, however, used the explosion's cover to close in on one guard.
His blade swung too suddenly and swiftly, severing the soldier's weapon arm.
Without wasting time, he lunged at another guard.
This one managed to block, but the force and surprise of the strike knocked him off balance.
Fortunately, comrades rushed in to support before the second blow could finish him.
Failing to kill, the cultist clicked his tongue in frustration and kept fighting.
But soon he realized something was wrong. No support came from the Mage as planned.
Though he had injured one, four healthy guards pressed him without hindrance.
"What are you waiting for?" he roared angrily.
The soldiers, startled, suspected an ambush and grew more cautious. But realizing no other attack came, they assumed he was trying to distract them.
They resumed their assault, keeping some attention on their surroundings.
His furious cry was answered only by the clash of weapons around him. Still no magic support.
Alone against four, he was quickly struck by a fatal blow.
An arrow pierced his side—ironically fired by the very soldier he had injured earlier.
Grievously wounded, he could no longer withstand the strikes raining down.
"Why?" — Helpless and enraged, the cultist could not comprehend the betrayal.
Cold steel pierced his body, ending his life.
Even in death, his eyes glared toward the hidden "traitor," face twisted in pain and fury.
"He must have died bitterly," Tris mused, pinching his thigh to stifle laughter.
The image of the cultist charging bravely only to be surrounded and slain in despair was too comical.
He felt he could watch such a scene all day without boredom.
Sadly, unlike in dreams, here Tris had no device to record it.
A pity indeed. He thought to himself that if he ever found a magical item with such a function, he would gladly pay a high price.
After sending his puppet to check the corpse nearby, Tris muttered inwardly:
"The poor, wretched Mage."
From him, Tris collected only a wand, a few potions, and a coin pouch with less than a hundred gold.
Yes, the Mage had not withheld support out of betrayal. He simply could not even protect himself.
Worse still, he died earlier than the swordsman outside.
Just moments before, when the swordsman charged, Tris had already struck.
The Mage left behind was killed instantly, without resistance.
That was why the scene became so absurd, as Tris and the soldiers had witnessed.
After looting the Mage's belongings, Tris chopped the body into pieces and dumped them into a deep pit conjured by magic, then buried it.
He avoided fire this time, since flames and smoke might reveal his position to the nearby soldiers.
Having secretly disposed of the body, Tris quickly stopped caring about the two dead cultists and focused on the situation ahead.
The sudden involvement of the Solvaris church against the cultists had surprised him greatly.
Still, if the cultists who once targeted him were wiped out here, it would be a great relief.
Tris saw no disadvantage for himself, even welcoming others to handle it in his stead.
He had no desire or interest in personally taking revenge or killing them.
For him, the right outcome was enough—comfort and ease mattered most.
Yet, to ensure that outcome, Tris could not ignore caution.
He set "Feathers" into stealth mode, guiding it to slip into the cave.
One soldier seemed to sense something and glanced upward. But thinking it was only wind drawn toward the cave entrance, he returned to tending the wounded comrade.
"Gathering such a large group... I hope you won't disappoint me," Tris whispered to himself.