The Innkeeper

For several miles around the castle, the canyon was clear of all locusts. With the curve of the black river forming a natural barrier on three sides of the castle, Z really only needed to focus on defending the front of the castle once he cleared the sides.

As it turned out, clearing the locusts wasn’t as hard as he had imagined. He literally had only begun the intro to his custom background music, and they all died. Yet Z would never believe that the trial in front of him was so simple.

His devilish boss would never miss out an opportunity to make him work, and since Lex wanted him to get some real world experience, there was no way that the scourge of locusts would be so easily dealt with. The very fact that Z could not determine what trouble it was that Lex expected him to face itself revealed that he was lacking in experience.

He analysed the situation in a little more depth. He recalled the mercenaries they had brought the Inn to, and their condition.

This was the first time Z had ever heard of the Inn specifically bringing its tavern to a specific group of guests. That probably meant that these guests weren’t ordinary. Either their identity was special, they had a very high Inn Prestige ranking, or their relationship with the Inn was unordinary.

In either of those cases, that meant that these people were entirely unordinary. If, in that case, even they had been beaten to such a severe extent by enemies as weak and fragile as the locusts, then that must mean that there were other enemies they had not faced yet. Or, very simply, that the weak and pathetic locusts had just overwhelmed them with their unending numbers.

Z’s eyes brightened as he felt he got a hint. This was not a sprint, it was a marathon. None of them knew how long they would be here – wherever here was. In that case, if they faced endless hordes of enemies without rest, even they would get exhausted.

That meant that the key to surviving this challenge was pacing themselves and ensuring they could last as long as possible.

With the new strategy decided, Z instantly began to make changes to his plans, and just in time too. He could already see more locusts right towards them.

Feeling like he had cracked the code, Z could not help but feel a little smug. Lex probably wanted to see him overexert himself and then get exhausted, only to get an opportunity to show off a little.

Well, Z decided to fight in the most efficient manner possible without compromising security, not giving Lex the opportunity to show off at all.

“New strategy guys. We’re going to form an energy distribution formation and coordinate our defense now. This is how it’s going to go…”

Standing atop the wall, Luthor watched in silence as Z handled the defense, and said nothing. It was good to let them handle as much of the invading forces as they could. If things got out of hand, then Luthor could step in. After all, with his Anachronistic Ignition bloodline, he would never run out of energy.

Moreover, the more he used his bloodline, the more he could study how it used the law of time so effectively. If Luthor ever managed to learn how to control the law of time on his own, his strength would increase exponentially.

Although they were out here on a mission, each one of them had their own thoughts going through their heads.

Within the castle, the mercenaries were still on edge. The transition from fighting for their lives to suddenly being transported to a warm, safe tavern, filled to the brim with wonderful food and excellent hospitality, was too quick. They could scarcely believe what was happening.

After all, how many years had they been fighting without seeing so much as a speck of warmth and safety? The truth was, even they themselves did not remember? Who kept track of such things when in hell?

Over the years, while they survived and yet all their allies kept dying, one of the reasons they had survived was because they never let down their guard, and treated each situation with the utmost seriousness.

That is why when a human dressed in a rather handsome suit walked up to one of them, and offered a refreshing drink on a tray he was carrying, the mercenary who was offered the drink responded by retreating swiftly and raising his shield.

Truthfully, the smiling faces and the comforting ambience of the tavern was more stressful than the battlefield they had just left. Each and every one of them was wondering if they were actually trapped in some kind of illusion or spell.

It couldn’t be helped. The only one of them who had gotten news about the arrival of the Midnight Inn was Kaemon, who had been too stunned to share the news with his men. Confused, unaware of what was really happening, and delirious from fighting nonstop against enemies who refused to die, the mercenaries had not resisted when they were ushered into the castle, yet they were too cautious to take advantage of the amenities they were being offered.

“If you are not in the mood for refreshments, then would you like to follow me to the medical wing of the tavern? Our staff are getting things running, but even then, just entering a Recovery Room should be more than enough to begin healing your wounded bodies,” said one of the workers to a group of mercenaries.

“How do you know about our wounds?” asked the beast, covered from head to toe in blood, with large gashes evident all across his body. “You’re devils who have infiltrated our minds! Don’t believe them brothers! What castle would smell like fresh linen sheets? This is a deception! A deception I tell you!”

The workers looked at each other, unsure how to calm down their guests. The mercenaries huddled together, for warmth and protection. Just as it seemed there would be no progress, the castle doors opened once more, and Lex walked in carrying an unconscious Kaemon.

Everyone suddenly turned to look at him, causing Lex to freeze. Using his exceptional social skills, he was able to pick up on the subtle cues that let him know that there was something wrong with the situation.

One example of such a subtle hint was the razor sharp sword pointed towards him by his very guests. Someone less experienced than him might have missed such a clue, and likely would have attributed it to strange local customs among mercenaries.