“Are we gonna do nothing about those run-off cultists?” asked a prisoner.

  Zalanir finally got a look at all the prisoners. Stark difference to what he had in his mind of them being bulky, holding some axes and being grumpy, instead, they looked just like him. None with heavy armor. All light versions.

  Their levels were also really good, with the lowest being 38, while the highest being peak D-grade belonged to a man in a red-white striped mage robe who was currently buzzing around the female warrior named Dunzhia. Hah. Looked like that was the man.

  “There was no time for that. We have to meet up with the captain in the main chamber now,” said the old enforcer.

  “Eh, we lost our weapon. Need one to fight with.”

  “Look, I appreciate the rescue, but I’m out. I don’t want to risk my life against these cultists.”

  “Give me the front slot. I will make sure these bastards pay for what they’ve done.”

  “I will protect you. Just stay by my side.”

  …

  The prisoners voiced different concerns and resolve. Some good, some bad, but overall, still about two-thirds of them remained to fight. Dunzhia kept shooing the bothering man away, but didn’t look like she would be able to anytime soon.

  “The vault is that way. We have cleared it before coming here. Let’s go, everyone.” The old enforcer ignored all those who voted to leave. “Hey you. The way out is there. That way is dangerous.”

  A shorty in light green leather armor ran straight off toward the retreating path of the stag and Hatillup earlier alone, ignoring the advice of the enforcers. Zalanir had no collection of this man except that he came out of the leftmost cell. Well, that man never said a word anyway, so whatever.

  The majority of the enforcers went on ahead to the supposed main chamber, whereas Zalanir and the rest of the prisoners followed the ice mage into a vault ten minutes later.

  Four cultists lay dead on the ground; one of them had the whole right arm up to the shoulder shattered into ice pieces. No need to be too sharp to guess who the man’s opponent was.

  The vault was simply a small side cavern that could fit about ten people at the same time. The ceiling was short, less than double his height, with blue mold and brown mosses taking up most of the space. Together with two torches parked on the wall, their faint lights help illuminate the area.

  Not many weapons to find here. Most of those scattering on the floor or resting against the wall were swords, axes, and clubs. There were two or three daggers and broken spearheads hidden behind the bigger weapons, but that was about it.

  Zalanir darted his eyes around the whole area, hoping to find the familiar brown staff, but unluckily, it wasn’t here. Seemed like it was in the hands of those four who caught him. It was loot in a sense, after all. Wouldn’t make sense to throw it here with these rusty, basic weapons.

  A bit of a comfort was that the majority of the prisoners also didn’t find their own weapons here. Though they made do with what was available and grabbed something at the end. For him, there was no need to take anything. Not like he fought with a weapon, anyway.

  After some of the hunters bid farewell and went ahead to the exit path, nine remained, excluding the ice mage and another enforcer. Two more compared to the time back there at the summoning chamber, as they had switched their minds at the very last moment.

  With this, they headed toward the main battlefield. Zalanir squeezed his hands. Health: full. Stamina: full. Mana: 55%. Not great, but not like he had time to meditate. Would need to make do with what he got.

  Darkness loomed over the ceiling, constantly monitoring them and following them wherever they went. If not for the flickering flame parking on top of the two torches, he was sure that darkness would swoop down and bathed them with its presence.

  There were no bats, no stalactites, and he wasn’t alone this time, but somehow, it still reminded Zalanir of that bat cave. Was it because he had spent too long there that every cave would invoke this feeling? Probably. Why was it always a cave? Couldn’t the battle take place somewhere else?

  All the self talk, swearing, and encouragement died down as soon as they left the vault. They were strangers after all. The cult was the only thing in common that bound them to tread forward. Revenge, responsibility, or even the thrill of battle. The reason could be anything.

  A talk could possibly bind them together for a connection after this raid finished, but was it really necessary? After all, none could say with absolute confidence that they would survive. The prophet was a mid C-grade, not a newly evolved like the man with the flail. And if the stag had been any indicator, one could bet that whatever they had summoned, or would summon, would be a force of nature in the incoming battle that could determine their fate.

  No, the bond-talk had to be saved for later. The survivors could talk about that and elevate this experience to forge a strong bond right at the start. But everything hinged on two conditions: they had to win, and they had to survive.

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  Everyone was probably tinkering with the same notion in their minds, as no words were being spoken. Even the man who buzzed around Dunzhia also remained silent, though he was still one single step behind her.

  Zalanir almost chuckled out a legit sound seeing the man in front constantly scrubbing his hands through his hair, as well as fixing his grip on the blunt greatsword. That action brought him back to his time inside the gym before a match. His team had always done the same thing, fidgeting all over the place.

  That was what friends were for. Seeing that kind of action helped him calm down much better compared to having a talk about tactics and strategies. That was why any idea offering him to hire a more “professional team” was so dumb. It could fit with others, but certainly not with him. Not only was the cost too high, the time it took to build that connection wouldn’t be worth it.

  Thinking about this now made him miss them even more. What were they doing on Earth? If he remembered correctly, they were coaching an upcoming junior from the south. He had disappointed them for not being able to reach the top spot, so hopefully they had more success this time.

  As for him, he also had a fight to take now. Not just for revenge, but also to reach the peak level and start working on the evolution quest. Two more levels, and he could have the first look at what it was about. Djaxinz had mentioned the Self-Fulfillment option. Would he be able to follow that line?

  No, that wasn’t even a question. Of course, he would make that happen. Otherwise, how would he be able to reach the top of this world? If a mere evolution quest of the first grade was able to stop him, then there was no way he could catch, let alone surpass all the others. Djaxinz, Schallin, Yar-Pattler, heck even Hiina — all of them were already stronger than him. No, he had to get that Self-Fulfillment line. This was a fresh start for another race to the top of the world. He had failed at tennis back then, but he would make it this time.

  Bang. Keng. Ugh.

  There they were. Finally, it was showtime.

  After getting out of the pathway, the main chamber appeared before his eyes. Torches were no longer needed, as the whole place was lit up by not only a line of sconces stationed up high on the wall but also various glowing magical projectiles. Despite its enormous size, the whole chamber was as bright as in daylight.

  On a protruding rocky platform, the archer enforcer was having a duel with the enemy counterpart, whom Zalanir recognized in an instant. There was no way he would forget that pesky archer who was the main culprit for this capture at the valley. Both of them were aiming to take out the others while assisting their teammates at the same time with their deadly arrows. Though from a quick glance, the enforcer held the advantage with his homing arrows, whereas the cultist didn’t have that luxury.

  On the ground, technically, he would divide the battle into four smaller groups.

  The first one took place on the left side at one of the three paths leading into the chamber. It was a relatively small archway, with four enforcers rotating guarding and blocking the entrance from a larger number of cultists. Minimum seven, as far as he could see. Looked like the enforcers were doing a good job preventing these cultists with their barriers and bombardments into the narrow path. To his surprise, it was Dakrua the chef who was handling the situation like a boss by staying right at the cave entrance, in the frontmost spot, with his spear swiping and slamming blazingly.

  The second battlefield lay in the middle of the chamber, where instead of four cylindrical pillars in the previous chamber, ten similar columns with tree-branch-like patterns stood tall and shimmered with green energy.

  The cultists had the advantage in numbers there. About 15ish of them were defending the ritual, with four particular masked cultists surrounding the summoning altar at the center. The enforcers attacking this section numbered about nine and looked like they wouldn’t be able to break through that defense anytime soon.

  Though there wasn’t any sphere on top of the altar just yet. Seemed like they had just begun the ritual. Good news.

  The third combat zone was at the far right of the chamber, where a series of familiar gray prison cells were parked yet again. These cultists surely had no aesthetic sense whatsoever. This chamber was basically just a bigger replica of the last chamber. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Hunters once again were screaming and cursing inside those jails, but the number of those who were active was less than even his current group. There were at least ten of those prisoners lying on the ground, though dead or alive, he wasn’t sure. Not to mention a completely sealed off jail on the rightmost. It was different compared to others with a black veil covering up everything. Weird.

  This was the most balanced battle, with each size having equal numbers at three. Hiina was fighting there against a female cultist who had five tentacles growing on the back. Didn’t seem like she was winning that.

  As for the last battle, it took place in an empty spot between the prison and the ritual area. It was just two men duking it out right there, but not a single one who was present doubted the importance of this battle. It wouldn’t even be exaggerated to say that the outcome of this raid depended on this solo battle, as that was the show between the two strongest individuals here.

  On one hand, the captain with the distinct black afro was constantly harassing the opponent with his sword, although it wasn’t in a pattern that Zalanir would imagine. The sword, instead of being in his hand, was flying all over the place like it was a living object.

  Zalanir had read tons of tales and stories about the flying sword, as it was really popular not only in Vietnam but also in eastern countries in general, but he had never thought that he would have the chance to see it in action in real life.

  The captain just stood in place, only moving to dodge some magical attacks from the enemy, while leaving everything for the sword to do its worth. Slashing, thrusting, and even spinning, that white, light blue sword could do everything.

  On the other hand, Zalanir was sure that it was the famous prophet, the true boss of the cult that was the main target of this hunt. Similar to the captain, Identify returned only a question mark, so it was not really helpful in gauging how strong the man was.

  Definitely a mage, as the man’s main attack was purple bolts and balls. Still, even though he was the ultimate leader of the cult, he still rocked a similar outfit of red and black robes, together with a barefoot. The only thing different from other cultists was the black mask of a lizard on his face.

  The proactive side was no doubt the captain, though, so it was another good news for this whole raid. It would suck being on the losing side.

  The two enforcers in his group had already headed straight to the battle, and soon the other hunters as well. Instead of focusing on one place, they scattered to all the fights except for the obvious one.

  It’s time then. Zalanir took a deep breath, quickly went over his plan, and rushed toward his target.

  We all have 24 hours a day. Thank you for spending some of that with me!