Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 539: Umbrella in Another World

CH539 Umbrella in Another World

***

In an instant, the Fortuna party surged forward, linking up with the women before crashing into the bandits.

Kavakan and Mogal immediately made a beeline for the remaining Gold ranks, almost as if they feared someone else would steal the kills.

The surviving enemy elites were merely One-Star Gold.

Against Fortuna’s Elite fighters, that gap in strength was significant.

Mogal’s fists broke bone while Kavakan’s axes split skulls. They tore through the last pillars of resistance like a storm.

There’s no honour among thieves and bandits.

The moment their leaders fell, the bandits’ will collapsed. Survival replaced courage. Men shoved comrades into danger if it bought them even a heartbeat more to flee.

But Fortuna had no intention of letting them scatter.

They sealed the bandit’s retreat paths.

Forced back, the bandits had no choice but to fight.

Mounted on Dread, Alex rode through the chaos, striking down enemies of varying strength.

In truth, he barely needed to steer.

He simply swung the Draconic Baton coated in mana to give it some blade-like sharpness, Dread handled the rest.

Man and horse moved as one—each trusting the other to do what they did best.

By the time the fighting ended, Alex and the others stood drenched in blood.

Only around ten bandits managed to escape the slaughter.

"Boss!" Kavakan called.

Alex turned and saw the weretiger standing beside the copper-skinned orc brothers, Hargul and Harum.

"What is it?" Alex asked.

"They’ve got a suggestion," Kavakan said, gesturing toward them.

Alex looked to the brothers. "Let’s hear it."

"Sir, we should fly the bandits’ flag while we travel," Hargul said.

Harum nodded and elaborated, "It’s custom in the Wildlands. When a party defeats a bandit group, raising the defeated flag warns other bandits not to provoke them."

"If I understand this correctly, flying this group’s flag will stop groups equal to or weaker than them from attacking us. Is that right?" Alex asked.

"Yes, sir." Harum nodded.

"But it won’t stop stronger bandit groups from attacking us, will it?"

"No, sir." Harum shook his head. "But it should make them hesitate. At the very least, it will reduce how often we’re targeted.

"That matters because there isn’t much difference between a merchant caravan and a bandit group on this side of the Wildlands. A caravan in one moment can become bandits in the next; and there are a lot of caravans roaming the wildlands.

"This is the way of the land, sir."

’I see...’ Alex mused. ’That explains why something felt off about them. They might very well be a caravan-cum-bandit group.

’If that’s the case, flying their flag comes with risks. We don’t know who they answer to, and I doubt searching their bodies will give us the truth. We might drag ourselves into trouble we can’t even see yet.’

He hesitated.

Then he exhaled.

"Alright. Fly the flag," he agreed.

’We’ll deal with whatever comes when it comes,’ he decided. ’Hopefully, if they do have a large group behind them, the group understands that if you choose to live as bandits, then you must accept the risk of dying as one.’

’There is no point fearing an enemy we cannot even name.’ Alex thought with a shake of head.

With the matter settled, the party resumed their march after stripping the corpses of anything useful.

There wasn’t much.

Bandits rarely carried real valuables during a raid. Doing so would only invite envy from their peers—or worse, enrich whoever killed them.

Unsavoury to the end.

Even in death, they wouldn’t let someone else profit at their expense.

Flying the flag worked just as Harum had predicted. For the next half a day, not a single bandit group dared approach.

Any sizeable force—very likely bandits—that entered the perception range of Alex’s Truth-Seeker Eyes would spot the banner... and promptly retreat.

However, peace from bandits did not mean peace in general.

The Wildlands remained generous with its dangers.

Berserk beasts prowled the region in great numbers, and the Fortuna party carried out their commission diligently, clearing everything that threatened the trade route stretching from Dragonstone Oasis towards Blood Iron City.

They continued until they reached the fork that led away from the main road and toward their actual objective.

From that point onward, they would be moving through territory far less travelled.

The party chose to make camp some distance from the fork.

Night descended.

Fires crackled softly. Armour was loosened. Weapons were cleaned. Low conversations drifted through the cooling desert air.

And Alex... stared at the sky.

’The further we move in this direction, the worse the distortion in the ambient mana becomes,’ he noted silently. ’But strangely... I seem to be the only one noticing it.’

Not Zora, with her terrifying magical intuition.

Not Eleanore, whose Fey Monarch bloodline granted her heightened perception.

No one.

’If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes, I probably wouldn’t notice anything wrong either,’ he admitted.

That was the unsettling part.

According to what his Spirit Sight showed him, such distortions should affect spellcasting.

Mana should behave differently. Spells might become easier—or harder—to cast. Warrior techniques should also fluctuate.

Even cultivation should come under the influence, and feel different.

Yet nothing changed.

Everything functioned normally.

As though what he was seeing... didn’t exist.

’There’s no way I’m imagining this, right?’ he wondered.

He remained silent for a long time.

Eventually, Alex exhaled and shook his head.

’The trail points toward the rumoured berserk human gathering. Once we reach there, I’ll know whether I’m losing my mind or not.’

With the stars offering no answer, Alex decided to shelve the matter for now.

There was no need to disturb everyone’s rest with suspicions that would likely resolve themselves soon enough.

’Thankfully, Eleanore and I prepared the Healer Domain grand formation scroll,’ he thought.

His gaze fell on the unfurled array, its gentle radiance washing over the campsite while quietly purifying the ambient mana flowing toward the party.

If not for the formation filtering the surroundings and shielding them from unseen threats—especially contamination from berserk properties—Alex would never have dared to be this relaxed about the strange distortions he kept noticing.

Since the problem could wait, he chose to rest.

After all, unlike the others, cultivation offered him no benefit.

Thump!

"...What?" Alex frowned.

The instant his thoughts brushed past the matter of his ascension path, a heavy pulse slammed inside his chest.

He pressed a palm over his heart.

But his heartbeat was steady.

’Is something wrong with me? Am I actually hallucinating?’ he wondered.

Then another possibility surfaced.

’Or is it...?’ His eyes flickered.

But in the end, he forced himself to drop it.

Right now, what he needed most was sleep.

OmniRune was operating around the clock, running translator–emulator routines to recover lost spells and Rune-Tech frameworks. Even if indirectly, the system still steadily drew from Alex’s mental reserves to maintain the process.

If he didn’t rest whenever he could, the exhaustion would accumulate.

So he lay down.

And slept.

The following day, the Fortuna party finally approached the region where the berserk humans had reportedly been sighted.

Only one mountain crossing remained between them and the exact location.

Yet before they even reached it— they saw one.

Their first true look at a fully transformed berserk human.

The moment Alex’s eyes landed on the grotesque silhouette, a fragment of memory from his past life surfaced instinctively.

’Wait... are those... B.O.W.s?’

***