Chapter 52: The Level Zero [Hero] Chapter 51

Harlan was just an ordinary city guard. He wasn’t really an ambitious fellow. Not after his first stint at being an adventurer. He had joined an open escort job— one of the so-called safe missions where dozens of different adventurers could sign up to guard a large caravan— which was supposed to pass through the Pale Valleys to the city of Lullin.

Unfortunately, that safe mission didn’t turn out to be so safe when they ran into a stampede of nymph elks. More than half of the adventurers protecting the caravan were slaughtered. Harlan himself was incapacitated for a full month. And that experience forever traumatized him— it dashed any hope he had of becoming a high-leveled adventurer.

Now, Harlan was content working as a city guard. He had served five years without any major incident. Even though he was barely Level 16 even after all this time, it didn’t matter to him, as long as he was safe.

And today, he wasn’t safe. Not at all. Harlan had heard the news. It had been the talk of the town. Maybe it would have been the talk of the entire nation if not for the fact that the Astrad Kingdom was currently at war with the Kingdom of Kal.

But even when overshadowed, this was massive news. The Miststorm Riders had returned. They had razed entire cities to ash in their path of destruction, sparing no one. Not even the children. And it almost seemed like the bandit group was heading straight for Whiteridge.

Of course, no one could predict their behavior. When the city of Ambrose locked itself down in preparation for an attack, the Miststorm Riders struck Skystead instead. They didn’t follow a specific pattern. It almost seemed random.

So Harlan hoped the rumors weren’t true. There were plenty of other cities around Whiteridge, after all. But the bulk of the city’s garrison had already left for the front lines, and while they were rushing back after hearing the news of the Miststorm Riders, it was probably going to be too late.

It was probably already too late.

Harlan stood atop the city’s battlements, and he swept his gaze over the fields around Whiteridge. The entire landscape was wreathed in mist. A tell-tale sign of the Miststorm Riders. He gulped as he glanced back.

Whiteridge was on high-alert. The city was currently in total lockdown. While a large chunk of its populace had fled based on rumors alone, many remained, because leaving was just as dangerous as staying.

Hundreds of city guards lined the walls. They waited in trepidation for what was to come. They hadn’t sounded the alarm bells just yet. No one could be sure whether this was actually an attack by the Miststorm Riders. After all, it was entirely possible that the bandits were just passing through… right?

“What are you doing, Harlan?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. Captain Jason marched down the crenellations and spat out. “You’re supposed to be keeping an eye out front, damnit!”

“I…” Harlan winced, nearly dropping his spear.

But the Captain of the Guard just harrumphed. “What are you going to do if the Miststorm Riders show up, and you’re just gawking at our damn city?”

Harlan caught his spear and paused. His eyes narrowed as he glanced towards the mist. There was a soft sound coming from the distance. Almost like a gentle whistling. “Wait, do you hear…”

“Seraphim curse you,” Jason cut the guardsman off. “What’s going to happen if you’re facing the wrong way and an arrow shoots right through the back of your skull—”

And an arrow struck in between the Captain of the Guard’s eyes. He slumped over, dead in an instant. Harlan’s eyes grew wide as he stumbled back.

“W-wha…?” He stared at Jason’s corpse, before glancing back towards the mist.

All around him, he heard the scrambling of metallic boots. Shouts broke out as the nearby guards called for the alarm to sound. They rushed to the guard towers, and the first bell tolled. But none of them saw what Harlan saw.

A ruddy smudge on the white canvas. It grew larger, rapidly approaching the city’s walls. Harlan looked on in shock for a moment, before his instincts finally kicked in.

It was a massive fireball.

He threw himself off the back side of the wall as he heard a voice cry out.

“We are under att—”

And a fiery explosion engulfed the walls of Whiteridge. The shockwave from the blast sent the falling Harlan flying. The battlements collapsed, and he landed in the middle of the street and slowly rolled to a halt. His vision blurred. The world spun around him. He couldn’t feel his arms.

A piercing sound screeched in his ear. Harlan groaned, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice. He blinked a few times, and his sight restored itself after a few moments. Gasping, he tried to force himself to his feet, only to collapse back on the ground.

Wha…? Why couldn’t I stand? he wondered. He looked down at his legs, only to see the scalding burn marks running down to his shin. Blood trickled down the side of his arm, and the numb pain finally seeped in.

“I-I… this—” Harlan couldn’t muster up any words. He looked up, and he saw the remains of the wall protecting Whiteridge. The bodies of hundreds of soldiers lay bloodied within the fallen rubble.

Just like that, the city’s defenses had been breached. A thick layer of mist seeped into Whiteridge, blanketing over the streets. Harlan reached for his spear with his one able hand and steadied himself as his legs threatened to give out. He heard shouts coming from the distance.

A patrol of city guards rushed towards the collapsed wall. They had their weapons raised, forming a line before the debris. They waited there as Harlan raised his head. And the tolling bells in the distance were abruptly silenced.

An eerie quietus befell the streets of Whiteridge. The line of guards waited, and Harlan just watched. They all peered into the white veil, but they heard nothing in return. After that initial moment of chaos, there was only silence.

Harlan wasn’t sure whether to join them. He was just an ordinary city guard. He once had ambitions— he used to have dreams. But none of it mattered as long as he died. He stumbled back, trying to make a break for it.

And that was when he heard the muffled sounds of footsteps. No— it wasn’t footsteps. It was… galloping.

Harlan heard the whining of a horse. He heard the cacophony of rushing hooves. He looked back and saw dark shadows emerging from the mist. A stream of riders exploded into the city, leaping over the rubble as they laughed madly.

“Keep them back!”

“Hold the line—”

“Protect the cit… agh!”

The line of guards were easily torn apart. The Miststorm Riders broke through their ranks, mercilessly slaughtering them as they rode further down the streets of the city. They poured in by the dozens. The guards had barely put up a fight.

The sounds of clashing metal lasted for a minute, and Harlan glanced back. An entire patrol of guards, wiped out just like that. And now the Miststorm Riders rode into the streets of Whiteridge.

Harlan watched as a hundred horsemen charged down the street, cackling as they immediately started throwing torches and shooting fireballs into the nearby buildings. Explosions filled the distance, and a small tremor rumbled throughout the street. A group of riders caught sight of Harlan and started galloping towards him.

“Oi, there’s still one alive!” they called out as they rushed his way.

Hearing their words, Harlan’s heart leapt in his chest. He tried to run faster. He saw the blasts in the distance. He watched as large fires broke out, quickly spreading through the nearest rows of houses. The white mist was illuminated with an orange light. Gray smoke quickly rose to the sky as the flames cast dark shadows over the approaching figures of the Miststorm Riders.

Another explosion resounded, and Harlan tripped. The shaking of the earth made him lose his balance. He fell right as the first of the Miststorm Riders reached him. A lanky man loomed over him, raising a sword high in the air.

“N-no—” Harlan mustered out as he raised his spear.

But the lanky man just swung down and cut straight through the wooden shaft. The [Bandit] laughed wildly as he slashed straight for Harlan’s head. The guardsman shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the worst.

And it never came.

Instead, he heard a yelp. Harlan blinked and looked up just in time to see a horse galloping past him without its rider. He glanced forward, confused, and there he saw a large shadow standing over him. A broad-shouldered man standing over six-feet tall.

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“You’re…?” Harlan tried to work his jaw.

“Deon the Virtuous Guard,” the man replied. He held the [Bandit] up with one arm, glancing back towards Harlan. “An A-rank adventurer, here to help.”

And Harlan’s eyes went round. “A-rank… adventurer?”

But Deon turned back towards the rest of the approaching Miststorm Riders. They were still charging down the street on their horses, weapons raised and aimed for the adventurer. He just grinned and hurled the first [Bandit] their way.

The Miststorm Riders crashed into each other as the Virtuous Guard produced a halberd from a Bag of Holding. He leapt into the air and descended onto the fallen [Bandits]. In a single slash, he tore through all of them with his halberd.

Harlan watched in awe as the A-ranked adventurer bellowed a war cry.

“Miststorm Riders! I will not let you take another innocent life! Come and fight me, you cowards!”

And the nearby [Bandits] turned. They saw Deon standing over their collapsed friends. He held his halberd high as he smirked at them. They roared in response, breaking from burning the nearby houses to charge at him.

“Kill that adventurer!”

Dozens of them encroached on Deon all at once. He stood steadfast as Harlan watched. The guardsman stared in disbelief.

“He can’t take them all alone… there’s too many of them!”

“Good thing he’s not alone,” a voice came in response. Blinking, Harlan turned to face a petite young woman walking casually past him. She tossed a healing potion his way and spoke simply. “Here, drink this before you die.”

“W-what? Who are you?” he asked, barely catching the healing potion.

“Skye the Silver Shade.” The woman produced a pair of daggers as she spoke.

She didn’t even look at Harlan’s way. She just eyed Deon from afar. The Virtuous Guard was bracing himself for the charging [Bandits]. And she sighed.

“And don’t worry— he wouldn’t even need my help to deal with these weaklings.” With that, Skye dashed forward.

A burst of silver light propelled her, and she swung forward with her daggers. She tore straight through the approaching Miststorm Riders in an instant. They collapsed before Deon, and he lowered his halberd.

“I could’ve handled that,” he said with a frown.

“Well, you were too slow.” Skye smirked back at him.

“This isn’t a competition, Skye—”

“If it was, you’d be losing. Now, come on.”

She started forward as more of the Miststorm Riders rode their way. Skye just leapt forward— practically jumping in the air— as she cut down the [Bandits] one after another. Deon shook his head and sighed, before following her moments after.

Harlan gaped as the two adventurers took on dozens upon dozens of the Miststorm Riders like they were nothing.

“That woman… is she an A-rank adventurer too?” he wondered aloud.

But his thoughts were interrupted by a powerful explosion just a street down to the left. Harlan reeled, only to hear a soft laughter. Mad laughter, but not nearly as loud as it came from the [Bandits].

He snapped his gaze to the side, watching as a group of the Miststorm Riders were blown apart. A flurry of smaller blasts ripped through the road as a small figure threw little round objects into the mist.

“Die, you damn idiots!” he yelled. “Die for my reward money!”

Harlan recognized the small figure immediately. “That’s… Saros the Gnome Inventor… I heard he was in town, but—”

Even more explosions resounded, and the guardsman flinched. He watched as Saros backed up. Behind him, a retinue of guards gathered in support with bows and wands raised. The Gnome Inventor was working with the city guard to fight back this attack.

“...I didn’t realize he was actually going to stay and help us out,” Harlan finished.

It was a sight to behold. The Miststorm Riders were actually being pushed back. Three A-rank adventurers fought alongside the city guards against the sea of [Bandits]. And it wasn’t just them either. Other adventurers soon took the field.

Harlan watched this scene play out. He saw the fighting. He heard the echoing explosions. The Miststorm Riders weren’t stopping. They still filled the streets of the city, burning down everything in sight.

But despite the grim outlook, Harlan thought that maybe, just maybe, Whiteridge stood a chance after all.

 

—--

 

“So the adventurers have finally taken the field, have they?” Odell remarked, watching the fighting from afar.

He saw straight through the vast veil of mist. It didn’t impede his vision at all. It was his magic. He could decide who got to see inside this white blanket. But even with this advantage, the first ranks of Miststorm Riders fell when faced with the combined forces of guardsmen and adventurers.

It was… unexpected. The average level of a city guard was probably between E-rank and D-rank. The same could be said about adventurers. Meanwhile, every single member of the Miststorm Riders were C-ranks at the very least. Yet, they were being cut down with ease.

“And it’s all because of those A-ranks,” the Monster of the Mist said. His gaze focused on three figures fighting amidst the mist. He didn’t recognize them. Not particularly.

Maybe he had heard of that gnome before. But he didn’t really care to remember the names of adventurers below S-rank. After all, not even A-ranks were a threat to him. They were merely… pests. So why bother?

Shaking his head, Odell turned to four figures waiting patiently behind him. They didn’t sit on horseback. They stood, shrouded by the mist as he nodded.

“Ruven, Ava, Lionell, Derell,” he called out their names. A savage smile spread across his face as he turned back to the three A-rank adventurers. “It seems you guys get to join the fighting sooner than expected.”