Chapter: 467

“I was in the feral plains dungeon. What’s happening? Why the monsters? Why the death cloud?” Matheson pointed up.

“Ah shit, the feral plains dungeon…” the guard looked down in frustration, “I knew we had forgotten one!”

Immediately, the guard pulled out a short range communication crystal, ignoring Matheson as he channelled some mana and spoke into it.

“Michael, south east corner here. No one was sent to the feral plains dungeon.”

The guard held a single finger up at Matheson, gesturing to him to be quiet.

…

It was completely silent for a moment as the guard stared at the crystal.

“Go. Now.” A gruff voice finally answered him.

Without hesitation, the guard stashed his crystal and began charging off into the forest.

“Hey! What about me?!” Matheson called out – only to deaf ears.

The guard completely ignored him and kept running. He was on a mission.

“…well, I guess someone has to watch this part of the town.” he pursed his lips with a shrug.

This was how Matheson came to be where he was now – guarding the south east side of Losla.

Every now and then, a treant hectopede would come charging, but Matheson would simply stand in front of the spell storm before dodging to the side.

The treants would continue charging recklessly; confusion was their last thought before their existence was ended by a fearful blinding flash.

Of course, Matheson would always give them a light tap with his rapier as they charged past.

“Mmm.” he nodded “Easy exp.” he smiled as another treant was filled with crackling flashes of energy and executed by the unrelenting storm.

Despite the easy exp, a part of him was annoyed that he had to do this, since the guard just ran off without anyone else to come and replace him.

“Just how stupid was this guard?” He wondered.

Countless rumbles and cracks of lightning sounded out from somewhere else on the battlefield; the storm seemed to be claiming the lives of many helpless treants that dared to pass under it.

But this was when he noticed something, something that caused a tight feeling in his chest: Each time a rumble or a cracking sound rang out, the cloud would shrink slightly.

Matheson only noticed it after he baited another treant into the cloud – he literally was standing on some charred wood remains – somewhere that the cloud was covering earlier.

“It’s definitely shrinking,” he thought.

For the first time in a while, a sense of fear gripped his heart.

Matheson’s response to fear? – He clenched his sword tightly and controlled his breathing.