Chapter 109: Chapter 109: The Huntress Nidalee
The two witches wore troubled expressions. Since that first night, neither had dreamed again—yet Charles dreamed nearly every evening...
Though the dreams seemed harmless, even leaving him in high spirits, they couldn’t shake the suspicion that the malicious dream raider was still at work, using him as a foothold...
"Relax, it’s not the raider."
Noticing their furrowed brows, Charles chuckled reassuringly. "See? I’m perfectly fine. No need to worry."
Truthfully, he’d already deduced that the invader of his dreams had been eradicated—the threat was gone.
He’d discovered an additional 550 Purification Points in his system. Checking the details revealed the source: "Purified Agatha."
So while he remained unaware of what he’d purified, the danger had clearly passed.
"Alright, up we get. Let’s see what today brings."
With a kiss to each witch’s lips, he rose and dressed.
Lacking means to investigate dreams, the two could only suppress their concerns and focus on tracking the hobgoblin warlord Charles had mentioned.
Three days had passed in this camp since posting notices seeking Zenith. Whether due to genuine ignorance, insufficient remuneration, or the target’s fearsome reputation, their efforts had yielded nothing.
Well, not entirely nothing. At the very least, they’d familiarized themselves with the camp’s layout—the town’s regular guard rotations, the procedures and pricing for posting quests, and so on.
They’d also visited numerous locations: a chapel devoted to the Moon Goddess, a dwarven blacksmith’s shop, and various stores selling adventuring supplies.
Thanks to their striking appearances, impeccable manners, and—most crucially—Charles’s game-acquired knowledge of each resident’s personality, they’d quickly befriended the small town’s locals, building considerable goodwill.
While this rapport offered little immediate assistance to their current predicament, it was still valuable. At least when they needed to return here in the future, they wouldn’t be completely in the dark.
Yet these gains provided minimal help for their immediate mission. Even Charles grew restless.
Dressed and ready, the trio descended the wooden stairs. Halfway down, a booming female voice called from below:
"Mr. Charles! Someone’s looking for you—seems there’s news about your quest!"
They turned to see the innkeeper—a stout, century-old mountain dwarf matron—standing proudly behind the counter.
Like most dwarves, she barely cleared a meter in height, her head level with Charles’s waist. But unlike the frail goblins, kobolds, or halflings, even as a relatively lightweight mountain dwarf female, she possessed a thick waist, sturdy arms, and impressive musculature.
By Charles’s estimate, the matron likely weighed over fifty kilograms—heavier than most human women—with physical strength surpassing most human males.
"Any news? That’s wonderful!"
Charles perked up at once. Truth be told, he’d grown restless. These past three days had been wasted, and back at the monastery, the other witches still faced Theresa’s threats!
"Aye, the night watch at the guild hall returned at dawn and told me someone took your quest last night," the aunt added. Thanks to their good rapport, their task progress had been tracked closely. "Eat up and head over. Same as usual—ham, eggs, and bacon?"
"Whatever you have, Aunt. We’re not picky." Charles smiled, settling at a wooden table. The dwarf soon brought a steaming platter: ham, fried eggs, bacon, a vegetable salad, and hot milk—a feast.
Charles devoured his meal, while Ruth and Sephera barely nibbled, prompting the aunt to mutter, "City girls and their diets..." Polite as ever, she didn’t interfere further, retreating with her own plate.
After breakfast, the three set off for the local Adventurer’s Guild hall.
The "lobby" was once the town’s Government Affairs Hall, now remodeled by adventurers. Outside, the notice board had become a task bar plastered with cheap jobs. Inside, high-value bounties lined the walls—quests only seasoned, powerful adventurers could claim.
When the trio arrived, guild staff were posting new tasks on the high notice board. Below, adventurers watched eagerly—some seeking coin for ale, others scouting for leads.
The cheap work didn’t concern them. Weaving through the crowd, dodging grubby hands, they reached the task window and presented their token. "Nigel Charles, sponsor of the ’Hobgoblin Warlord Zenith’ bounty. I heard there’s a lead?"
The window attendant, a beardless halfling with a thick mane, perched on a tall chair, feet dangling. Puffing his pipe, he leafed through documents. Spotting the bounty’s price, his eyes lit up. He hopped down, eager. "Aye, Lord Charles! At dawn, a highlander woman claimed she knows where that old bastard Zenith hides!"
Ten minutes later, in the guild’s sealed meeting room, the trio met the highlander woman.
A classic mountain tribeswoman—petite, wheat-skinned, with raven hair tied back and primal green eyes. She stood slightly taller than Ruth, lithe but with defined arm muscles.
Her attire was sparse: crude hide armor covering her chest, exposing a toned waist and navel (making Ruth self-conscious). A hide skirt left her thighs bare—muscular, no excess fat. Her hide boots seemed laughable for autumn mountains, yet she showed no chill, flaunting her wild, athletic frame.
"Greetings. I am Nigel Charles, the sponsor of this commission." Charles stepped forward, offering his hand while studying the girl, trying to discern which tribe she belonged to.
When the Empire of Sein first colonized these lands, their classification of the natives had been brutally simplistic: any human dwelling among these mountains was indiscriminately labeled as "Shanyuan people."
Yet in truth, those living at the foot of the mountain or halfway up its slopes were nearly indistinguishable from the natives of Liberl Port. Meanwhile, the people of the deep plateau were universally shorter, darker-skinned—an entirely different breed from their lowland counterparts.
But alas, due to historical baggage, these distinctions would likely never be properly acknowledged.
And this girl before him? Clearly one of the deep plateau natives—the very group most resistant to the Empire of Sein’s expansion.
Fortunately, she showed little animosity toward Charles, a white-haired, blue-eyed youth whose refined features marked him as nobility from the Empire. She clasped his hand firmly and introduced herself with confidence: "Well met, Mr. Charles. I am Nidalee, an unremarkable mountain druid—and a hunter."
Charles’ eyebrow twitched. A mountain druid? Oh-ho, the quintessential bottom-tier class.
And while hunters weren’t quite as pitiful, they still ranked among the weaker classes...
Ah well. Let us mourn her future prospects in silence.
Ahem!
Not that it was entirely the classes’ fault. After all, the game designers had poured their hearts into mechanics while balancing with their feet—one misplaced stat adjustment had doomed both druids and rangers alike...
Then again, their mechanics didn’t synergize well, with too much overlap and wasted potential...
So yes, this girl’s future remained... concerning.
Ahem!
Though his mind brimmed with impolite thoughts at that moment, Charles maintained perfect reverence on his face: "Ah, a mountain druid! Guardian of the untamed peaks. Your sacrifices for ecological balance command my deepest respect!"
While seriously doubting the girl’s actual combat strength, this didn’t prevent him from showering the maiden with flattery—words he’d mastered from in-game dialogues.
Nidalee, by nature unaware of his true thoughts, visibly preened at the compliments, the corners of her mouth curling upward. "You honor me. ’Tis our shared duty."
After a brief pause, she cut straight to business: "The locals say you seek trouble with Zenith?"
Charles’ eyes flickered briefly before his expression smoothed over. "Ah, we’re merely gathering intelligence. Any further action requires assessing the target’s actual circumstances first."
He pressed immediately: "So, Miss Nidalee, could you guide us to covertly observe Zenith’s castle?"
Nidalee’s expression shifted. Clearly, this human already possessed some intelligence—at minimum, he knew Zenith’s nest was an abandoned mountain castle. Not entirely uninformed then.
This complicated matters...
"Certainly," she said, mentally adjusting her original plan while emphasizing: "Truth be told, that scoundrel’s plagued these lands too long—raiding adventurers, dragging women to his den for his underlings to toy with and insult. Vile. Cruel."
As she spoke, she studied Ruth and Sephera’s reactions: "Yet his cunning leaves no traces. Adventurers have never caught his trail."
Her clumsy provocation failed to elicit the rage she sought.
"Mmm. How dreadful," Charles parroted tonelessly. "So have you uncovered clues, or already located his nest?"
"The latter," Nidalee said quickly. "We’d normally ignore bandits, but his recent atrocities have disrupted nature’s balance. I tracked his trail through the wilderness to his precise location."
"Rest assured, I’ve mastered a hidden path to safely observe his castle."
"Excellent." Charles nodded. "When do we depart?"
"Surely... you’ll need preparations?" Nidalee probed again. "His castle lies deep in the mountains—a grueling journey across ruined paths while evading scouts. Arduous."
Subtext: You pampered city folk should pack tents before following me.
Charles shook his head decisively. "Unnecessary. Lead us directly."
With spellcraft assisting them, he was confident of matching Nidalee’s pace—even in mountainous terrain.
Studying his youthful face, delicate complexion and slender frame, Nidalee’s eyes gleamed uncertainly. True capability or mere arrogance?
No matter. She’d test them soon enough.
"Very well," she said. "We leave now!"
Charles matched her nod. "Then we depart immediately!"
All his belongings were stored within his Carry it with you Bag of Holding. The damned thing had cost him 600 gold - an outrageous fleecing that still made his soul ache.
But with circumstances being urgent, he hadn’t had time to haggle. The purchase had to be made. Still, the convenience proved invaluable - at the very least, it granted him the freedom to travel unencumbered at a moment’s notice!
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