The Father didn't take long to arrive—mornings weren't particularly busy for him, and as soon as he heard Santos' name, he went out to meet him.
The moment he saw him, he greeted him with a somewhat peculiar smile.
"Santos, I didn't expect to see you… so soon?"
"Sorry about that, I came for, uh…"
Santos truly didn't know how to phrase it. He was supposed to leave the city and head toward the center of the country, just as he had agreed with the Father. Yet, here he was again, this time with Martha, ready to venture into the White Forest—more precisely, the White Mountain Range.
Martha, mistaking Santos' hesitation for shyness, eagerly stepped forward.
"This is Santos. He wants to enter the White Forest with the groups starting today's raid. I guided him here!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"Well done, Martha. Thank you. You should head back before someone notices your absence." The Father gave her a warm smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.
To Santos, this situation felt surreal and unfamiliar. He wasn't used to receiving this kind of attention—not even from the humblest folk. He had worked with royalty and powerful merchants, but even with his level of fame, people never showed such enthusiasm.
Maybe it's because hunting dragons was once normal for me?
After a brief conversation with the Father, Santos was led toward the outskirts of the White Forest. Near the city, the forest was visibly divided by logging efforts, preventing people from blindly wandering in. The White Forest had immense trees, some reaching as high as fifty meters.
The seven groups Santos had intended to join had already departed while he was speaking with the Father. He could still see them at a distance, but he chose not to approach. Santos wasn't in the mood to talk to more people unless necessary. Instead, he focused on the forest itself.
The White Forest was mostly infested with walking corpses and giant insects. He wasn't aware of any other creatures in the initial areas.
"Even after all these years, are the corpses still emerging from the mountains?"
A raid into the mountain range should be organized. Maybe there's more going on than we think.
As Santos became lost in thought, something else was happening ahead.
"Sir Gamba, there's an adventurer back there, in our operational area."
"Keep an eye on him. Stay alert—I haven't seen a single walking corpse yet," replied a young man with fine features and jet-black hair.
Ukryo Gamba was the third son of a famous northern merchant. The Gamba name was well-known in the northern markets, a dynasty of traders specializing in timber and other materials for nearly a century.
In any other part of the country, Ukryo would have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. But here, in Fersian, where the family business was at its peak, the Gambas were considered equals to royalty.
Ukryo had chosen to become an adventurer by his own will, hoping to carve out a name for himself. Unfortunately, he had yet to find anything worthy of his skills.
Since the arrival of the Reciardos, the most dangerous missions had been taken, and traveling to other places was nearly impossible.
Dressed in a blue cloak, leather gloves, light clothing, and sturdy boots, he might have seemed unarmed. But beneath his cloak, he carried weapons for his defense.
His real role was to issue orders and coordinate his team.
"Walkers ahead!" shouted the scout at the front of the group.
"Idiot, don't yell."
By the time he finished speaking, everyone had already assumed their positions. A mage immediately took a stance beside Ukryo Gamba, while an archer attempted to climb a tree—only to fall back down. Meanwhile, a young man nervously drew a kitchen knife.
"Wait… is that from the kitchen? Hold on, stop everything! What kind of disaster is this? We've practiced this scenario three times already, and I even said I'd buy you weapons! So why are you carrying a… kitchen knife?!"
To make things worse, Ukryo's bodyguards blocked his view of the enemy as soon as they appeared.
The only one who remained unfazed was an old man with a face covered in scars. He wore an iron breastplate with no pauldrons, leather gloves, and held a sword in a relaxed grip, as if this were just routine.
"They're not moving."
"Of course, we can't move if—"
"I meant the walkers. They're not moving."
After finishing his sentence, the old man fearlessly approached the corpses.
Due to the thick undergrowth, they could only see the heads of the walking corpses poking above the foliage. Cutting through the bushes to clear their view, the team of novices finally saw something unbelievable.
The corpses had been impaled by strange white spikes rising from the ground.
Pierced straight through the heart—and some through the neck—the walkers were "dead" once again.
"It's necromancy… high-level necromancy. A powerful Reciardo might be nearby," the old man muttered, his tone troubled. What protruded from the ground were bones.
"Summoning magic… No Reciardo has been to the city since they all started gathering in Ruana," Ukryo said.
"Unless it's a Pillar Killer…"
Ukryo's face darkened. He scanned everyone present, then turned to the old man.
"If we find him, do you think we can escape?"
The old man assessed each member of the group, his cold gaze scrutinizing them before he finally spoke.
**"If we all go, I can't guarantee anyone's safety. But if it's just you and me, we might still have time to warn the other teams. Launch the flare!"
Everyone began preparing for retreat. Ukryo, who carried the flares, climbed a tree and fired a yellow and red signal into the sky.
Even with the thick forest canopy, he hoped that anyone who hadn't ventured too far would see them.
A few minutes passed, and soon after, two flares from different directions lit up the sky in response.
Ukryo climbed down from the tree and saw that everyone was already retreating.
"Sir Gamba, I can't just leave you—" One of Ukryo's bodyguards approached, trying to convince him to come along. But Ukryo silenced him with a raised hand.
"Listen to me. Take everyone back to the church and tell them what you saw. Join the guards. If they come later, we'll regroup."
With that, Ukryo turned to the old man, and together they ventured deeper into the forest, heading toward the flares.
Meanwhile, beyond where Ukryo and Santos are…
Surrounded by hordes of walking corpses… corpses impaled by long bones protruding from the forest floor.
A robust black knight stood motionless among the horde, silently gazing at the sky. There was no sound—not even his breathing.
His visor was hollow, and his gloved hands gripped a strange sword with an eerie design. Its pommel resembled a skull, and its blade looked like a spinal column.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, until finally, a noise broke the stillness—the snap of a branch.
Someone was approaching.