Chapter 150: The Adventurers’ Call for Help

"Sigh. It pays to have connections." Seeing several people fawning over Constance, the young men and women over here couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. "We only have two instructors."

It wasn’t that they looked down on Seymour and Delaford; the goblin’s little display of skill earlier had been more than enough to shock them. They were simply resentful of the preferential treatment.

"Trust me, you won’t be envying her in a little while," Seymour whispered, leaning close to the young man’s ear. "You’ll discover just how gentle the Zor and goblin instructors are compared to her."

"You must be joking." Several of the young people laughed. Unlike the Zor and goblins with their poor reputations, Vampire Descendants were the epitome of elegance and nobility. How could she possibly...

"You’ll see in a moment," Seymour said with a smirk, a hint of mockery in his red eyes. "Do you know why she called herself ’the worst of the bunch, just barely passing’ earlier?"

"Why?"

"Everyone who performed worse than her during training died by her hand, so that makes her ’the worst’—stay far away from her from now on, got it? A Vampire Descendant’s blood runs colder than a Zor’s."

"Ah!"

「About half an hour later.」

Constance, drenched in sweat and exhausted, quickly called for a stop. She dropped the Swift Sword and dagger in her hands and flopped onto the ground, forgetting all decorum as she started tending to her wounds.

’Yes, wounds. How did I, armed with a sharp dagger and sword, get stabbed a full six times by a simple Walking Stick? How did Silvia do it?’

’Can you stab someone without a pointed tip?’

"Four of those wounds are from your own weapons," Ron remarked, having figured out Silvia’s style after watching with great interest for half an hour. "She keeps deflecting the path of your weapons to disarm you. When she seizes or knocks them away, she takes the opportunity to counterattack with your own blades."

"She’s a grown woman and still can’t hold a sword properly," Aive sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. ’It’s a good thing I’m not as obsessed with adventuring as my aunt, or I’d probably have one less cousin.’

’Among their group, Silvia’s close-combat skills were only good enough to bully Ron and Andre, who had never received proper training. She and Victoria were basically an even fifty-fifty match. To think I actually had some expectations for this cousin of mine, who supposedly had some "family training." Now it seems Constance is no different from Carlos and the rest.’

"If this is your skill level, the best you can hope for is to be a militiaman," Silvia said, lowering her Walking Stick with no small amount of regret. "At least there, you could rely on superior numbers to keep yourself safe."

"Also, you should stop using these. Switch to a spear and shield. You can master them without much training, and then you’ll be able to beat me."

Silvia had no intention of mocking Constance; she was simply stating a fact. Even a Zor Assassin like Seymour wouldn’t necessarily dare to fight with that style, let alone Constance. If Constance wanted to beat her, this was the only way.

’And if they were to compete with ranged weapons, the Half-Elf would stand even less of a chance—Magic Missiles are far more accurate than any arrow.’

"No, I’m sticking with these!" Constance stubbornly got to her feet and reset her stance. "Miss Silvia, I want to learn your techniques!"

"Are you sure?" Silvia watched her, not immediately raising her Walking Stick in response. "I won’t be so gentle next time, you know."

"I’m sure!"

"Fine..." Silvia shot Aive a reassuring glance. "Then I’ll humor you until you give up."

Ron didn’t stay to watch the rest. For one, he could already foresee Constance’s defeat. For another, Rurik had come over to tell him that two Adventurers were looking for him to discuss something.

In the main hall of the trading post, Ron met the two men: one was tall and fat, the other short and thin—a classic pair.

"You must be the Lord," the fat man said, shaking Ron’s hand enthusiastically. "I’m Spike. We met during your trip to Rose City."

"Our leader is Wilson," the shorter man added quickly.

"Oh, right—" The mention of Wilson jogged Ron’s memory; otherwise, he would have had no recollection of these two. "Where are the rest of your companions? Why didn’t they come with you?"

"They..." The tall, fat Spike exchanged a look with his short, thin friend. "They ran into a bit of trouble."

"More accurately, we’ve come to ask for your help in rescuing them."

"Captured by Carolina?" That was Ron’s first thought. After all, he had been the one to egg Wilson’s group on to attack Carolina’s Slave Capture Team, so it was entirely possible they had slipped up.

"No, it’s not like that," Spike said, shaking his head. "Our dealings with your people in that regard have gone very smoothly. This is about something else."

"On our way back after finishing our last trade with your people, we ran into a crazed, bare-chested man at the edge of the Delusional Land. We all thought he was a bandit, but he insisted he was a Prophet."

"He said this land held countless treasures, but that they came with all sorts of risks."

"That hardly makes him a prophet, does it?" the Dwarf Blacksmith said as he poured each of them a beer. "Anyone knows that."

"He was... different," Spike said with a bitter smile. "He pointed us to a specific location—a waterfall. He told us to go behind it, that there was a treasure cave there with countless riches."

"The two of us were keeping watch outside," the shorter man chimed in. "At first, they said everything was going smoothly, and we could even hear Luo Wei’s goofy laugh. But it wasn’t long before the sounds from inside turned into screams and cries for help."

Spike gestured helplessly with his hand drum. "As you can see, I’m a poet, and he’s a Wanderer. We’re useless in a sudden crisis like this, so we had no choice but to retrace our steps and beg for your merciful aid."

"Let me ask you something," Ron said. "What about the bandit—or Prophet, rather?"

’Acting so rashly based on a few whispered words was typical Adventurer behavior. But since Ron and his own people weren’t much different, he had no intention of questioning their motives. Instead, he wanted to get more details.’

"Oh, he was the only one who came back out from behind the waterfall," Spike said. "He said Wilson and the others were trapped, but that their lives weren’t in immediate danger. He’s standing guard there and told us to come get help."

"Oh, right. He mentioned someone, and I think it’s very likely he was talking about one of the people in your group."

"Who?"

"He said he ’gained the power of prophecy after encountering a Heroic Spirit who carried an azure greatsword,’ and that he was ’thus blessed by divine grace and learned the secrets of this land.’ If we’re not mistaken, one of your companions..."