Chapter Eight: Setting Camp

The sky had fully darkened.

Sparse moonlight barely touched the ground before being chased away by the blazing fires of the camp.

Eric picked up a torch from the flames to light the path leading up to higher ground. Two nuns followed closely behind him.

As Sophie walked forward, she examined the nearby mining fence. The wood, aged and weathered, was nearly rotten, causing her to worry.

“Won’t those undead escape from this side?” she asked the senior nun beside her, speaking deliberately loud enough for Eric ahead to hear.

Alena glanced at the fence with a troubled expression. Eric turned back and said, “No need to worry about that. The fence is raised off the ground by some height, and those creatures can hardly climb up—if they even have the awareness to try.”

Encouraged by his response, Sophie looked at the senior nun again and asked directly, “Have you been here before?”

“No,” came the reply.

“Then how do you know... what’s inside?”

“Yera told me.”

Sophie instinctively wanted to ask which Yera, but thinking better of it, she dared not speak further.

Alena shook her head.

The night wind caused the torch flames to flicker, while faint noises emanated from within the fence, making anyone reluctant to imagine what lay beyond.

The three listened to the sounds, climbing higher until Sophie began to tire and Eric, at the front, stopped.

“This is far enough. We can see inside from here.”

The mine extended deep underground, with the surface forming a basin carved into a sloping hillside. The low part below was the exit, while from above one could take in the entire scene.

Against the vast mine, the faint glow from Eric’s torch seemed insignificant.

Before he spoke, Alena clasped her hands and cast a light spell.

A pure white orb materialized before her chest, gradually expanding and radiating a bright but gentle light.

When the orb reached about the length of an arm, Alena’s face was bathed in its pale glow. Eric noticed a thin bead of sweat trickling down her cheek.

Even such a basic divine spell was clearly taxing at this intensity.

As he pondered this, Alena ceased the incantation and pushed the orb into the air.

The light floated unsteadily overhead, hovering above the mine like an artificial sun, illuminating the darkness below.

Sophie gasped and instinctively gripped the senior nun’s robe.

Undead in various states of decay wandered throughout the mine—some crawling, some clawing at the walls, others raising their heads to stare blankly at the glowing orb above. They were countless, too many to estimate.

Alena gazed for a while, her expression grave.

“Why are there so many undead in this mine?”

Though they were all low-level and easily dispatched, even frightened by sunlight, their sheer numbers made her skin crawl. She felt grateful she wasn’t here alone.

“These undead all poured out from the underground tunnels,” Eric explained. “Over two hundred years ago, they were just ordinary miners and villagers.”

Alena and Sophie looked at him expectantly.

“Why...” they began.

“The plague,” Eric said flatly.

He elaborated, “They were infected and couldn’t be left unchecked to roam freely and spread the disease. The authorities at the time didn’t want to spend much on treating common folk, and the cure wasn’t guaranteed. So they drove all the infected into the mine tunnels to perish on their own... Don’t look at me like that; this wasn’t the Kiminor family’s land two centuries ago. It was the governor’s doing.”

Eric shouldn’t have known such details, but his past-life memories—gained during closed beta missions—had laid out the disaster’s origins clearly through NPC dialogue.

Sophie felt embarrassed, wanting to apologize for her instinctive rude gaze but unsure how. Fortunately, Eric didn’t mind and shifted his position to continue surveying the undead below.

“Normally, it’s very difficult for the dead to become undead,” Alena continued.

“That’s true,” Eric replied, glancing at her. “The problem was, among those locked in the mine tunnels was a mage from the Starlit Academy whose research focused on necromancy.”

He tapped the ground with his toe. “More than two centuries later, he still ‘lives’ deep beneath this mine. The chaos now is tied to him.”

“Starlit Academy...” Alena frowned. It was a magic institute located in the chaotic region of Castafel, the continent’s oldest and largest sorcerer organization. Like the land itself, chaos was the Academy’s hallmark, where even forbidden necromantic arts flourished openly.

“Our main quest... is to find that mage hiding in the tunnels,” Eric said, eyes fixed on the mine below. “Then kill him.”

Alena studied him a moment. “Mr. Eric, you know far more about this place than I imagined.”

Holding the torch, Eric placed one hand over his chest calmly. “Praise Yera.”

The nuns said no more.

The three stood atop the hill, continuing to gaze down. Suddenly, the suspended light orb flickered and went out.

Alena looked to Eric, silently asking if she should cast the light again.

“No need.”

Without looking down, Eric tilted his head back to stare at the stars.

“No use watching longer. By day, these undead will retreat back into the tunnels. Let’s go.”

They descended the way they came and soon returned to camp, which was nearly set up. A bonfire burned at the center, with meat roasting on one side and a cauldron bubbling on the other.

Bread accompanied this as their evening meal.

The aroma made Eric ravenous—he realized he hadn’t eaten all day.

“This day has worn me out...” he muttered, biting into tender roast meat.

Noticing unfamiliar faces among those preparing the meal, Eric asked the captain of the guards and learned they were villagers who came to help.

“Let them stay and assist for a few days. Whether it’s preparing food or cleaning, we’ll pay them,” Eric said.

With so many undead in the mine, his guards must focus on fighting, not menial chores. Better to leave those to the villagers.

“Understood,” Leslie agreed, immediately calling over one villager to inform him, who happily accepted.

After finishing their meal, Eric checked on his resting place. His personal tent was modest but comfortable—not a lordly bed, but sufficient for a good night’s sleep.

Coming out, he found the two nuns waiting by the fire, evidently having finished eating and drinking, ready to rest.

Having agreed on the time to enter the mine the next day, Eric summoned a carriage to take them to the town’s church.

But moments after sitting by the fire, the carriage returned with both nuns aboard, their faces troubled.

“What happened?”

“There’s no place to stay...”

Alena and Sophie had discovered that although the church itself was intact, the clergy’s quarters were dilapidated. A few monks were squeezed in together, and making room for the nuns meant evicting them.

Hearing this, Eric asked Leslie, “Do we have any extra tents?”

Leslie nodded but warned the remaining tents were small, old, and possibly riddled with holes.

“Then give my tent to the two ladies,” Eric said. “They can share; it won’t be a problem.”

“We appreciate your kindness, Mr. Eric, but Sophie and I can manage with an ordinary tent.”

“Isn’t it a problem if bugs crawl in during the night?”

Before Alena could respond, Sophie’s face turned pale as she gripped her robe, shaking her head vigorously.

With no other choice, the senior nun accepted his offer and thanked him again.

“You’re welcome,” Eric said, tossing a branch into the fire. “We can kill these undead bodies, but to truly cleanse their souls requires you two saints. To help those lost spirits find peace, you must rest well. The coming days won’t be easy.”

Alena looked at him deeply and nodded without another word.

After a while by the fire, the two nuns went to rest in Eric’s tent.

Eric, after Leslie arranged his own tent, continued discussing the plan for the next day.

“Master, I think...” Leslie pleaded once more for Eric to remain at camp. Though the undead seemed weak, if anything happened to him, Leslie wouldn’t bear that responsibility even in death.

As expected, Eric refused again.

Once Leslie finished his show of loyalty, he began organizing the operation.

“This mine has been abandoned for over two centuries. No one knows what it’s like inside. Tomorrow, we’ll first explore the tunnels and gradually delve deeper.”

Eric had wanted to say he was familiar with the terrain but realized his descriptions might not suffice for the guards’ understanding. Leslie’s plan was safer, so he said nothing.

“Yes, we must be careful.”

“As for combat, leave it to me and the guards. Those two holy emissaries likely lack fighting experience, so the master must protect them from behind,” Leslie arranged thoughtfully, even offering a reason.

“You underestimate the senior nun,” Eric said, glancing at him. “Besides, without real battle experience, one cannot truly grow. As a descendant of the Kiminor family, I won’t shy away from fighting.”

Leslie bowed in agreement.

“But the tunnels are complex. I still need a skilled warrior like you to protect me. Just cooperate with me.”

“Yes, master.”

“Remember to save the heads for me.”

“Huh... what?”