"Understood."

"By the way," Elisa suddenly added, "we've found Lady Kuisu's son."

"How is it?"

"It's complicated," Elisa sent over a series of ellipses, "I'll tell you later, Captain."

Fang Hong had a vague premonition, but he didn't ask anything.

He only glanced into the darkness ahead, everything here was ready, just waiting for news from Little Fatty.

...

Outside the mine—

The Messenger looked at the young man, remaining silent for a moment.

The North Wind was blowing over the mountains, letting out a wailing sound over the Spruce Forest in the distance. The former raised his head again, the gloomy sky reflecting in his Vision—the twilight seemed to be descending over the Blood Thistle Woods.

After a while, he finally turned back, suddenly asking a completely unrelated question:

"Do you know the relationship between slaves and Slave Masters?"

Everyone in the snow was stunned.

But the other party was clearly not really asking, but merely talking to himself: "In your world, I heard that this system is already just a historical term. However, in Eteliria, in places like Saint Hugon Corner, the slave system still truly exists—"

"In the city-states and manors there, this ancient relationship is still maintained today; but contrary to what many imagine, the lives of slaves aren't all that bad—except for the lack of personal freedom, Slave Masters won't lightly beat or kill their slaves..."

The Messenger planted the Skeleton Staff in the ground. "Isn't it somewhat incredible?"

Without waiting for the others to reply, he continued speaking to himself: "Actually, it's quite normal; Slave Masters see slaves as speaking tools, so since they are tools, they are considered private property. So why would a person unnecessarily go against their own property...?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than he suddenly raised his hand towards the young man not far away.

The young man had just broken free from the Black Swordsmen behind him and grabbed his sword lying on the ground beside him. But seeing the action of the Undead Wizard, he was understandably shocked. He seemed to want to retreat—but it was too late, and a dark light shot from the other's hand struck his chest and sent him flying.

"Captain!"

Everyone cried out in surprise.

The Messenger remained expressionless, once again pointing in another direction—over there, the girl had just broken free from the Black Swordsmen behind her, flipped and grabbed her Weapon, and stood up. But she noticed the young man had already fallen, and couldn't help but be stunned, momentarily bewildered.

The Messenger simply clenched his hand, and the girl suddenly let out a muffled sound, clutching her throat with trembling hands and falling to her knees.

Then she let out a cry and spat a mouthful of blood.

The blood stood out starkly in the snow—

The Messenger raised his hand and swung it downward; the Black Swordsman behind the girl swiftly brought its sword down—sending a blood arrow shooting out. She died with her eyes wide open in disbelief, her beautiful head rolling to the ground, tumbling far away.

And only then, together with her body, did she gradually dissipate into white light.

"Sister Rose!"

Witnessing this scene, those left were filled with rage and could no longer hold back, ready to fight desperately.

But with the highest Level members of the team having no power to resist in front of the Undead Wizard, what could they do? The Messenger stood motionless, and under his command, the Black Swordsmen behind these people reversed the sword hilts, striking them down one by one.

Then he walked over to the young man. The youth was shaking his head as he tried to get up, instinctively reaching for the sword behind him, but before he could touch the hilt, a foot pressed him down into the snow.

The Messenger raised the Skeleton Staff in his hand, a cold expression on his face, and stabbed it down.

"Aaargh!"

The pointed end of the Skeleton Staff pierced the back of the young man's hand, veins bulging on his forehead as he raised his head in a beast-like wail of pain.

The Messenger then bent down, grabbed the young man's hair, and pulled him up out of the snow. He spoke softly: "... Slave Masters usually treat their tools well, but there are exceptions—that's when they disobey, or even plan to escape..."

"Understand?"

"If you obediently become my tools, I will naturally treat you well. I'm a bad person, but not a madman; killing you offers me no benefit. I know you Holy Chosen each think very highly of yourselves, but sometimes, you have to face reality, don't you?"

The young man was in such pain, he nearly rolled his eyes.

But hearing this, he still gritted his teeth and groaned, "Never..."

The Messenger shrugged, unconcerned: "I have plenty of ways to make you cooperate; I don't believe every one of you is unyielding." He pulled out the staff, glancing at the other's bloody hand—ready to command his Undead.

But just then, he felt something, stopped, and turned back toward the entrance to the mine.

And there, a Little Fatty warrior came running out, panting heavily. He hadn't yet understood the situation outside when he shouted, "It's bad, Captain! There's a Sorcerer-Ghoul under that mine; everyone else was captured by it!"

He suddenly stopped, clearly seeing the scene in the snow—

Little Fatty blinked, looking at the young man lying on the ground, and the girl's corpse that was gradually disappearing, then halted mid-step, gasping in shock. At that moment, only rage surged in his heart, and he shouted, "Damn it, I'll fight you to the death!"

He had long since thrown Fang Hong's admonitions to the wind and drew his Longsword to charge at the Undead Wizard.

But just like that, he attracted the Messenger's attention. "Sorcerer-Ghoul?" The latter looked in that direction, suddenly shouting, "Mountain Kou Ke, capture him alive, don't kill him!"

A low howl came from the forest.

Little Fatty stopped in his tracks, realizing the significant trouble he was in—he cautiously looked up, only to find a 'mountain' suddenly appearing before him.

...

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