The lead-gray clouds churned above the sky, but no ominous thunder brewed within, only leaving the air below slightly moist.
It was a barely perceptible subtle sound.
Refracting the water’s light, polished by the invisible airflow and fierce winds, a translucent drop was caught by gravity, descending from the gray clouds.
It inherently lacked color; its overly pure interior merely reflected the surroundings.
From the dark gray-black of the sky to the lush green of the treetops, it skimmed over withered branches and cobwebs, flashed past tender leaves and moss, and finally burst into a spray of water, dissipating into the air within the mist.
The half orc Volga touched his slightly damp bald head and instinctively glanced upwards.
However, what greeted his eyes was only a thick, lush canopy of vibrant green, with fragmented glimpses of the dark cloud tops leaking through the gaps in the branches and leaves.
"We’re almost at our destination, stay focused!"
From the back of the group, the tall golden haired Elf called out, reminding the half orc who had stopped in his tracks due to a bit of rain.
But as if touched a sensitive point, the green-skinned half orc, who never quarreled with his teammates, suddenly turned around and said to the Elf, word by word.
"Chief said, Volga, smart!"
He pointed at his head, his expression exceedingly earnest.
Knowing that if they continued tangling over this, the other party would likely use his universal language skill that was not even comparable to rural children, mixed with numerous beastman dialect expressions that even the unit’s mages couldn’t fully understand, taking examples from several small stories from tribal life before his adventurer career to prove he was more intelligent than the average human by a few degrees.
Now was not the time to tease him.
The Elf forced a stiff smile on his face and casually placated:
"Yes, yes, smart, you are the smartest."
Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, the half orc Volga shook his head, turning his gaze toward the other two in the team.
"Cornell, Mage, smartest."
"Warrior, Heavy Armor, reliable."
"Long Ears, Fine Sword, soft, dumb."
He counted on his fingers, seemingly seriously contemplating the hierarchy of intelligence within the team.
"Volga, place second... third."
The Elf couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his mouth, causing his originally light footsteps to momentarily stumble.
"Alright, alright, whatever you say is right."
Suppressing the urge to argue, not wanting to waste more time with the half orc, he opted to acquiesce and surrender directly.
Now, it had been about five days since they entered the Mist Forest from the adventurer association in River Valley Town.
All four were high level professionals, and there were almost no threats in the forest’s outskirts capable of endangering them.
Their progress was swift.
They had already reached close to the core of the Mist Forest, nearly at their destination.
Undoubtedly, the environment deep within the forest was much harsher than the outskirts.
Although it hadn’t yet caused enough damage to lead to any casualties in the party, it had left clear marks on them.
At the forefront, the silent and steadfast human warrior’s heavy iron armor bore several scratches;
The wound on the left arm of the half orc Volga was still scabbed, and even the meticulously cared-for, always pristine and flawless fine clothes managed to acquire two stubborn light green stains — courtesy of yesterday’s "Vine Monster" that had been discovered lurking in the bushes by a guardian spell.
The only one who seemed the most relaxed was the Mage Cornell.
The Elf held no resentment for this, even feeling a vague sense of relief.
After all, he had been in the adventurer business for many years.
He clearly understood that if there ever came a time when the core spellcaster, protected by everyone, appeared disheveled and worn-out.
It would indicate that their team was on the verge of collapse.
The wooden magic wand lightly tapped the ground, causing the semi-transparent light shield enveloping the entire team to subtly distort.
Cornell’s gaze skipped over the Heavy Armored Warrior, who had unknowingly stopped, and looked ahead.
In the center of the suddenly expanded forest clearing lay a black, gaping cave entrance.
He retrieved a brass compass from his pocket, his expression focused.
The compass’s exterior seemed hardly different from the cheap ones sold at the town’s general store.
Marred by mottled and dull brass, smudged glass cover covered in fingerprints, and imprecise markings...