[Chapter 228. Daring Actions]

Dahul stood in the open field, his boots sinking slightly into the unnaturally soft vegetation as officers barked orders all around him. Their sharp commands cut through the air like whips, each syllable carrying a weight that made the half-breeds flinch. The military personnel moved with precision, their full-blooded arrogance palpable as they directed the lesser beings—people like Dahul—to tasks deemed suitable for their station.

He could feel their gazes on his back, hot and judgmental, as if his existence polluted this new world they sought to conquer. A few moments later, he found himself setting up large tents with other half-breeds, their movements hesitant and uncoordinated under the watchful eyes of their commanders.

Meanwhile, Argun pulled an entire field camp from his storage ring. The items materialized in organized displays of magical efficiency that underscored the vast difference between their stations. Soon after, four highly decorated figures stood beside him, their ornate armor and noble bearing casting long shadows that seemed to physically press down on the workers.

"Something isn't right. Most of our men are not suppressed by the system. Their levels stayed the same after passing the portal."

One of them spoke while leaning over the large table set up right in the open, his fingers tracing invisible patterns across its surface. His voice carried the clipped precision of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question, yet there was an undertone of concern that made Dahul's four arms twitch beneath his cloak.

Argun unfolded something large on the table, the parchment crackling as it stretched across the wooden surface. Dahul craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what it showed, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't see past the figures surrounding it. Their broad shoulders and expensive robes formed a wall between his curiosity and their knowledge.

"I noticed. My level dropped to level eighteen. The last time I was inside one of these, it fell below fifteen," Argun spoke in a calm tone and placed a strange-looking device on the table.

The device clicked softly, and a grid of light spread across the parchment, illuminating symbols and terrain features that made no sense to Dahul but clearly meant something significant to the nobles.

"We are currently in the middle of three node points, and we must reach them quickly. There could be others who have exited in this area. I learned that it isn't uncommon for four portals to open around a single node. That said, it is also not unheard of that there are no other portals even close to us." His words carried the weight of experience, the kind of knowledge that came with privilege and access to secrets half-breeds could never dream of acquiring. "Anyways, before we plan our war against other factions, let's focus on the dungeons. Our levels may be suppressed on this world but not inside the dungeons. The faster we move out, the sooner we can claim the rewards for clearing them."

Another noble leaned over the table. Dahul pretended to set up the tent while listening in, despite his best efforts to suppress his curiosity. The canvas material felt rough against his hands as he worked, his movements slow to better catch fragments of their conversation.

"What about the dark shape on the horizon? It has to be as tall as a mountain to be visible from this distance."

"Send a scout team out while we build up our defenses. The points we claimed by clearing the beasts in the initial vicinity weren't nearly enough to establish a fortified position. We have to move toward the dungeons." He then proceeded to point toward three spots on the table before them, his gloved finger tracing invisible lines across the illuminated map.

"My team will fly over the mountain range and clear this location. Your team heads toward the forest area right here. Meanwhile, Kandora and her team will move past the dark shape and further into the plains behind it. There is a river there." Argun ran his finger over the table and stopped at one location, the parchment glowing faintly where his touch lingered. "Clear them out and return. With this Item, it won't take much time to track them down the moment you are in range."

"As you say, Your Grace," they pressed their hands to their chests in unison. Their armor plates clinked softly as they moved, each grabbing an item off the table—their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine.

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and pulled out a ball made of crystal, its surface smooth and unblemished, reflecting the alien sky above. Dahul, focused more on what was happening beside him, missed the stake he was hammering into the earth and slammed the hammer down on his hand. The sudden, sharp pain made him gasp. The metal hammer fell to the soft grass with a dull thud as he instinctively pulled his four arms away from the impact.

While Dahul shook his hand, the throbbing pain radiating up to his elbow, he glanced toward Argun. The crystal ball began to shimmer and glow with an internal light that pulsed with life.

"Father. I have to report an abnormality. Our levels are not as suppressed as predicted." His voice, when he spoke, fell low and serious, carrying an undercurrent of excitement that made Dahul's skin crawl.

A voice Dahul couldn't make out came from the magic item. It resonated with an otherworldly quality, as if speaking through layers of crystal and distance, the words too muffled to decipher but carrying an authoritative tone that made Dahul's extra arms twitch beneath his cloak. He strained to listen, turning his head slightly as if adjusting a tent peg that was already perfectly placed, his heart pounding against his ribs with the audacity of his actions.

He then decided against moving closer. If anyone found out he was eavesdropping on military conversations, that was one thing—a punishable offense, perhaps, but survivable. But a conversation between high nobles, especially one of House Veythar? That was a death sentence, no question. The mere thought made the air feel thin in his lungs, his survival instincts screaming at him to focus on his task, to become invisible in the sea of half-breed laborers.

"Level eighteen," Argun's voice cut through the air, clear and precise as he reported his status to whoever was on the other end of the crystal orb. The words hung in the alien atmosphere, each syllable carrying implications that made Dahul's skin prickle with a mixture of fear and morbid fascination. The noble's face remained impassive as he spoke, though Dahul noticed the slight tightening of his jaw—a subtle tell that even someone of his exalted station felt some pressure in this unknown world.

Silence came from the orb, a void of sound that stretched for several heartbeats before words emerged again, their cadence suggesting a rapid-fire exchange of information that Dahul could only guess at. The crystal pulsed with an inner light synchronized with the unheard speech, its glow casting strange reflections on Argun's armor that made the silver filigree on his wings dance like captured lightning.

"Of course, Father. I will inform you the moment we find out anything else." Argun's response sounded deferential yet confident, the acknowledgment of a superior officer and a son speaking to his father intertwined in those few words. His posture straightened as he spoke, a subtle shift that radiated respect and purpose.

With that, the glow vanished, and the orb was stored into his storage ring with a practiced flick of his wrist. It disappeared into the enchanted space as if it had never existed. Argun then waved over some people standing further aside, their high status evident in the way they moved without flinching at his sudden attention.

They approached with the confidence of those who had learned never to show weakness, their boots making soft sounds in the alien vegetation. Argun pointed at something on the desk that Dahul couldn't see, his finger tapping the surface with an impatient rhythm that spoke of urgency.

He then folded whatever lay on the table, the material crackling as he secured it with deft movements, before spreading his wings—impressive constructs of leather and silver that cast shadows across several people. With a powerful downbeat that sent dust and grass flying, he lifted into the air, his ascent smooth and effortless. He was closely followed by the dozen or more men beside him, their own wings creating a chaotic flurry of motion as they rose into the strange sky and became distant specks against the backdrop of the alien world.

As the sun began its descent from its peak, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the landscape, the camp was already set up with hundreds of tents arranged in precise rows. Small spiked palisades stood around the encampment, their sharpened points glinting in the fading light, while the first hunting teams returned with their gain—carcasses of strange creatures with four legs, armored hides, and long horns that looked like frozen lightning, their blood staining the vegetation a deep crimson that contrasted sharply with the verdant surroundings.

Dahul and other half-breeds were tasked with exploring the nearby mountainside and clearing it of any beasts they encountered, their shoulders slumped under the weight of their gear and the knowledge of their expendability in this new world. Before he moved out, he saw the scout team preparing to head toward the dark shape in the distance.

Seeing who stood in their ranks left him speechless out of pure rage. Between the full-bloods stood a small figure, it was Kylith. Her dark hair catching the light, her tail swishing behind her with an arrogance that made his blood boil. The sight of her—comfortable among those who despised their kind—felt like salt in wounds he thought had scarred over long ago.