The sun of the fifth day of the journey shone brightly above the caravan; it must have been around 1 PM. The caravan itself was still stopped for lunch amidst the Treacherous Mountains. Inside Ethan's carriage, while Peter and Helena served him a simple lunch of bread and dried meat, the young man continued his unusual "interview."

  "...so, you, Peter, like math and managing supplies, and you don't like court parties," Ethan summarized, eating a good piece of bread.

  "That's right, my Lord," Peter said, a little nervous about what he had just revealed. "Don't get me wrong! I am honored to attend such events, but as a servant..."

  "I believe I understand what you mean, Peter. And you, Helena, prefer the quiet of the library over your family's fabric sales. And you are fifteen and sixteen, respectively. That's impressive."

  Peter smiled, relieved to have satisfied his new lord's curiosity. "That's it, my Lord. Our ambitions are... modest. I only wish for House Bernet to continue to be known for its efficiency."

  Helena nodded shyly. "I just want to be useful, Lord Martins. And maybe, one day, to have a small house to read my books without being reprimanded."

  Ethan shook his head. It was painful to see how their ambitions were limited by Valorn's system. After all, he himself didn't have many ambitions; he just wanted to finish his studies and live a simple life as a psychologist, since his biggest dream was to be able to help people like him, who suffer from anxiety.

  The moment was interrupted by a grave voice from outside the carriage.

  "Commander, this is the only break we'll take. Rain clouds are approaching quickly. We must continue the journey immediately!" The voice belonged to Larry, authoritative and impatient.

  "Duke! Precisely because of this rain, we should wait before moving on!" Garnold retorted, his voice conveying a certain contained anger.

  Larry laughed, a dry and mocking sound. "Afraid of a little rain, Garnold? Are our protective spells useless? Your bravery seems to diminish every day since the war began." After this comment, he hardened his face with seriousness. "We have a schedule. The kings do not wait!"

  The debate intensified. Ethan could hear Larry's footsteps approaching the carriage, the argument reaching its peak.

  Rolling his eyes, he commented, "Oh, here comes trouble," and watched as Peter and Helena did their best not to laugh.

  "Lord Martins," Larry called, tapping the side of the carriage. "We have a bit of an impasse. Garnold here is worried about a little water. I say we move forward; he says we wait. You are our guest of honor; what is your opinion on the matter? A mind from another world should have a clearer view of the risk."

  The invitation was a trap. If Ethan supported Larry, he would be endorsing danger. If he supported Garnold, Larry would ridicule him for siding with a "coward."

  Ethan sighed, opening the carriage door. The anxious tremor he felt in his fingers was barely noticeable. He looked at the sky and saw the approaching storm clouds; the strong, cold wind coming from that direction did not lie—it would be an ugly storm. On one hand, he didn't want to advance into that storm, but staying there was not very appealing either, as they had no real protection against lightning or wind. So, he did what he thought was best.

  "Larry, Garnold, I am unfamiliar with this world and its logic. I don't care what decision you make, but whatever it is, make it fast; that storm won't wait for you to finish your little squabble."

  It wasn't exactly what they expected, but there was a hint of truth in his statement.

  "You are a Duke, right, Larry? Isn't it up to you to make these difficult decisions?" he added.

  Larry smiled, a victorious smile.

  "Wise words, Lord Martins. As the Noble of higher status and leader of this caravan, I say: Prepare the caravan! We will depart in ten minutes! Without further ado!" Larry ordered, turning his back on a visibly frustrated Garnold.

  Rolling his eyes, Ethan returned to his carriage and waited patiently for the departure...

  The caravan departed, and in less than half an hour, the promised rain poured down on the mountain, accompanied by a thick fog that swallowed visibility. The path became muddy and slippery, and the sound of the horses' hooves was muffled by the storm.

  Ethan watched, fascinated, as the royal guards used wind magic to clear the fog and protect the carriages from the rain. They seemed to be doing nothing, yet the mist moved away from the path, and the carriages remained dry.

  It was as if, within a ten-meter radius around the caravan, the rain and fog did not exist.

  "Useful, isn't it?" Peter said, observing Ethan's curious expression. "The royal guards know magic up to a certain level, which is why our caravan does not have mages, with the exception of Lord Larry, of course."

  "You mean he not only knows how to use magic like Helena, he's considered a mage?" Ethan commented. "Honestly, he doesn't seem like the studious type."

  "Lord Larry is known as the Duke of Water," Helena added. "Unlike Lord Marnov, who has an affinity for flames, he has a high capacity for water magic."

  "That's incredible, but... if we have this kind of magic and capability, what was Garnold's concern about moving forward in the storm?"

  Peter was about to answer the question when a loud bang shook the carriage. Something had gone terribly wrong with the carriages up ahead.

  "Ambush! Stay in formation! And someone find my damn shield!" Garnold's voice echoed over the storm. Ethan could already feel his anxiety flaring up.

  "Lord Garnold lost his shield?!" Helena exclaimed, frightened. "It can't be!"

  Suddenly, arrows crossed the fog, hitting the most exposed guards. Then, about thirty armed bandits, who seemed to have been waiting there, emerged from the mist. They were equipped with surprisingly well-maintained armor and weapons for simple robbers—light armor made of hardened leather, not the most resistant, but ensuring an advantage in dexterity amidst the rain.

  Ethan and Peter stretched to see what was happening. Garnold was on the ground with a furious expression on his face.

  "Do not advance! Stay in a defensive position!" Garnold commanded, slowly getting up from the mud; his heavy armor didn't help the task at all. "The safety of the carriages is our priority!"

  "Bastards, that first attack must have been targeting Garnold," Peter said, nervously gripping his dagger. "Don't worry, Lord Martins, Garnold is an expert swordsman; even without his royal shield, there isn't a man in all of Kamrhin who can defeat him."

  "Can't he just grab a shield from one of the other guards?" Ethan asked, confused.

  "Lord Garnold's shield is special, my Lord," Helena explained, trying to control her trembling; she was visibly shaken by the situation. "It was enchanted by the kingdom's best mages and blacksmiths; it can repel even the strongest blows and non-magical attacks."

  "They say his shield can absorb the force of impact and return it against the opponent, but it is difficult to control, and it is necessary to be a user of light magic to use it," Peter added. He and Ethan watched through the window as Larry approached Garnold with a slight smile on his face.

  "I think you're getting old, Garnold," Larry mocked, positioning himself beside the swordsman. "Let's be quick, okay? Oh, leave at least one alive; I want to know who the fool was who decided to attack my caravan."

  "Guards! Stay at your posts! Defend the carriages!" Garnold shouted and drew his sword, positioning it vertically on his right side. There was determination and fury in his eyes. "Lord Larry and I will deal with these inferior lifeforms."

  Without another word, Garnold advanced against the opponents without fear of their swords. His own sword gleamed with yellow flashes, so beautifully that it was almost captivating to watch... until the moment he struck a blow against the chest of one of the bandits.

  As if it were a hot knife cutting through butter, Garnold's sword pierced the thief's armor and cut his chest. The blade was now dripping blood, and the sight made Ethan's stomach churn.

  The other thieves nearby attacked Garnold with their swords, but it was in vain; his armor was impenetrable. The swords struck uselessly against it, giving Garnold the opening to counterattack.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Larry, meanwhile, stood in the middle of the battlefield, observing the thieves surrounding him.

  "Aren't you going to attack?" the proud Duke said. "No problem, I can start!" He smiled with sadism and snapped his fingers.

  Suddenly, an ice spear materialized in the air—not a simple, large, and crude ice stake, but a crafted piece, a beautiful spear at least a meter and a half long with blue runes around it. Before any of the bandits could react, Larry pointed at someone random, and the spear shot in that direction, impaling the poor fellow on the ground. The worst part was that it hadn't hit a vital spot; the man's scream of agony seemed to echo in Ethan's head, who seemed closer and closer to an anxiety attack.

  Unable to bear the cramped space of the carriage any longer, Ethan stepped out of the carriage, kneeling on the wet ground. His breathing was rapid, and his eyes were wide, watching Garnold and Larry's fight.

  "My Lord! It's dangerous! Please! Get back in the carriage!" Peter said, descending from the carriage to help him. Two royal guards promptly placed themselves in front of them to protect them.

  "Lord Martins! What's wrong?" one of the guards asked.

  "W-What's wrong?!!" Ethan exclaimed. "Can't you see this..." He was about to talk about the slaughter that Larry and Garnold were committing, but when he pointed at them, he saw Garnold decapitate one of the bandits with a clean strike of his sword. That was too much for his stomach...

  In the middle of the confusion, a loud, guttural noise emerged from the side forest. The fog opened for an instant, revealing a gigantic figure.

  It was a Troll.

  The creature, with thick, greenish skin, wielded a crude club. Its eyes were opaque, and its posture was strangely controlled.

  "A Forest Troll?" Garnold said, retreating next to Larry. "What in the name of ázimos is a Forest Troll doing here?"

  "I think they know the answer," Larry replied, pointing to a second group of bandits approaching from behind the mountain rocks.

  "Guards! Duke Larry and I will take care of the Troll; finish off the rest of this rabble," Garnold ordered, and chaos ensued as the guards shifted from defense to offense.

  As the guards positioned themselves, more bandits appeared through the fog. These were armed with a strange type of staff—a well-crafted piece of wood, with a shiny brown stone at the tip of each staff. They all looked very similar, suggesting they were mass-produced.

  "Earth Mages!" Peter exclaimed nervously. "Keep away from the mountain walls!"

  The warning was useless. Even though they were on the road away from the mountain walls, the Earth Mages had the advantage of the terrain. The swordsmen protected them from the royal guards while they performed some strange kind of conjuration.

  "Larry! I need an opening here!" Garnold complained, dodging the Troll's club; his heavy armor made it hard for him to move freely in that mud. "Where is my shield?!"

  "I'm trying, Garnold!" Larry shouted back, firing a powerful water blade at the creature. The attack seemed effective, making a deep cut on its arm, but the flesh immediately began to regenerate, and the monster was as good as new. "I'm not a fire mage! You need to cut its head off!"

  "As long as he's swinging that thing, I can't do anything! Not without my shield!"

  The battle went back and forth across the caravan. As the storm grew stronger, the high winds took down the magical barrier that the royal guards maintained to protect them from the rain; the situation only worsened. Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath the royal soldiers' feet, and vine-like restraints bound them in place. Peter and Ethan, who were outside the carriage, were not spared and were also caught by the bandits' magic.

  "Lord Martins!" Garnold shouted, narrowly dodging a blow from the Troll.

  "N-no! N-NO, LET GO OF ME! YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" Ethan screamed in despair, his anxiety speaking for him. He hated confined spaces or the feeling of being restrained.

  "My Lord! Calm down!" Peter said, trying to free himself as well.

  A laugh could be heard coming from the bandits as they began to attack again; the guards pinned to the ground were easy targets. Was this the end?!

  Ethan took a deep breath and anchored himself better, shifting his center of gravity. Finally, he started to push forward with all the strength in his body. His teeth gritted, and he could feel his fingernails lightly digging into the palms of his hands due to the effort.

  "I. SAID. LET GO!!" he screamed with one final surge and broke his restraints. "DAMN IT!"

  Everyone was surprised by this; how had he managed to escape the magical restraints?

  Ethan was breathing heavily from the effort he had made, but he was relieved to no longer be trapped. He didn't have much time to rest, as the mages tried to restrain him to the ground again.

  Ethan leaped aside and dodged the attack by pure instinct; he wasn't going to let himself be caught again. Quickly, he grabbed Peter's dagger and freed him, handing the weapon back.

  "Free the others!" He ordered, and without waiting for a reply, he ran toward Garnold and Larry, who were struggling to fight the Troll.

  Garnold had blocked a direct attack from the creature, but with only his sword to help him with the block, he ended up being thrown backward and fell into the mud once more; this was getting exhausting.

  "Garnold! Roll to the side!" Ethan shouted in despair, seeing the Troll raise its club above its head to crush Garnold.

  Without complaining, the head guard obeyed the command and narrowly escaped death. His armor might be impenetrable against cuts and arrows, but he could still feel the impact of blunt weapons like clubs.

  "Lord Ethan! Retreat! It's too dangerous!" Larry shouted from the rear, firing another one of his spells at the monster.

  The Troll roared with anger and violence. Larry's blows hurt, but they weren't enough. Ethan quickly helped Garnold up and turned to face the Troll again.

  "Come on, Garnold! Aren't you the head of the royal guard or something? It's not possible that this is all you can do!" Ethan complained, watching the Troll advance again. At least it was slow.

  "Without my shield, I can't block his attacks properly; my blade art is based on counterattacks!" Garnold replied. "I need to land a direct hit on him, and it will all be over."

  "All you need is to land a hit?" Ethan asked, staring at the giant creature in front of him. He took a deep breath and got into a fighting stance, though he himself didn't believe his punches could do much. "Then get ready; I'll get an opening!"

  "No! It's too dangerous!" Garnold tried to argue, but it was already too late. Ethan was already running toward the creature, fists in front of his face and a fighting posture.

  The Troll laughed scornfully and prepared to attack. Perhaps because it was a creature with little intelligence, its attacks were very simple; it would raise the club and try to hit where you were. The problem was its enormous size...

  Ethan narrowly dodged an attack, feeling the wind from the heavy weapon. He used the inertia of the Troll's swing to get closer and closer to the monster; he didn't exactly know what he was doing, but he couldn't just stand there doing nothing at that moment. The Troll saw him getting too close and tried to grab him with its free hand, but Ethan was too fast for the creature. Throwing himself into the mud, Ethan slid under the Troll and passed behind it. He quickly got up and, with a quick and precise kick, aimed at the knee joint, Ethan sought to unbalance the monster. The blow caused no damage, but the sudden pain and unbalance forced the Troll to take the weight off the affected leg and stagger.

  The Troll let out a tremendous roar of confusion and dropped the club, which fell into the mud. The creature tried to sweep Ethan off the ground with a desperate swipe of its free hand. Ethan saw the opportunity. He used the Troll's outstretched arm for momentary support and jumped, gaining height toward the most critical target.

  "That's it! If I hit this thing's throat, it'll run out of air and... what the hell is that?" Ethan thought.

  In mid-air, ready to deliver his blow, Ethan saw a disturbing detail: a wide, iron collar cracked in red, which seemed to glow intensely with unknown runes, encircled the monster's neck.

  "Shit! I'll have to divert the blow!"

  He diverted his punch at the last instant. Ethan's fist slammed into the bridge of the Troll's nose. It was the softest spot he could find. The impact was crushing. A searing pain shot through his arm, a white thunder of agony that almost made him scream. He felt the hard bone of the creature's skull against the thin cartilage of the nose. It was completely unlike punching an ordinary person.

  The Troll let out a roar of pain and confusion, the impact completely disorienting it as it staggered backward. Ethan fell back into the mud, panting and holding his fist.

  "Now, Garnold! Larry!" he shouted over the sound of the rain.

  Without wasting time, Larry fired one of his ice spears at the monster's leg, forcing it to kneel in the mud. Garnold advanced with his sword in hand and delivered a powerful blow to its head, splitting the skull in half. The scream the monster let out was loud and agonizing to hear; it seemed to be trying to regenerate, but Garnold used his magic to burn the wounds. The monster finally fell completely, life draining from its body.

  Seeing their main asset fall, the remaining bandits panicked and quickly retreated back into the fog, dragging their mages. The threat had passed.

  Garnold, breathing heavily, let out a sigh of relief and contained anger. "Lord Martins, your behavior was reckless! Such a monster should not be faced without preparation and..."

  "Shut up..." Ethan replied, putting both hands in his pockets to hide his injured hand.

  His expression was difficult to understand, a mix of shock, anxiety, anger, and sickness. He looked up at the sky, feeling the incessant rain soaking his body and washing his completely filthy clothes because of the mud. He didn't want to look at the now disfigured creature on the ground, or at the dead around him; he would probably vomit again if he did.

  Larry was quiet. He had approached to congratulate Ethan on his bravery; after all, he was supposedly an summoned hero, and therefore, in his eyes, his attitude had been spot on, but after hearing him tell Garnold to shut up, he was wary of saying anything. Even if it was in his favor.

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan looked at Larry with a serious expression on his face; he was not happy... Without saying anything, he headed toward his carriage. He needed to get out of the rain and change clothes.

  Peter had freed the guards and was also returning to the carriage. Despite the major attack, only five of the royal guards died; these were the guards who had been caught by the earth magic and couldn't defend themselves long enough for Peter to free them. The others only had lighter injuries or weren't hurt at all. The truth is that despite the bandits' good coordination, the royal armor and other equipment were simply incredible and had withstood most of the damage from the attacks.

  Inside the carriage, Helena was safe, though very frightened. When she saw Ethan and Peter enter, she sighed with relief, knowing everything was over. Then she composed herself and began looking for new clothes and towels for Ethan.

  "My Lord! Your skill in battle is admirable! How did you manage to break free from those restraints? And the way you managed to stun the Troll with just one punch—that was stupendous!" Peter exclaimed, with a wide smile, his voice slightly trembling. "Not even Lord Larry or Garnold, the head of the guard, could deal with the Troll, but you did!"

  Ethan sat down, his body shaking, the adrenaline spike wearing off and anxiety returning in full force. He hunched over and started a breathing exercise to calm his heart.

  Taking his injured hand out of his tunic pocket, he began to assess the damage. It didn't seem broken, just a bad sprain; it should be good again in a few days.

  "I guess in the end there really is a good reason for them to use spears and swords here, huh?" Ethan commented, showing his hand to Peter and Helena; they weren't sure how to react. "It's not like I was expecting to have to fight creatures like that, ever in my life." Letting out a long sigh, he accepted the clothes and towels Helena handed him and stepped out of the carriage, following one of the guards who protected him from the rain with his magic so he could change.

  Peter and Helena remained in the carriage with uncertain looks. How were they supposed to cheer him up now???