Chapter 84: Perilous Journey

CH84 Perilous Journey

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[A.N: This is a 2-in-1 Chapter sponsored by Calyddon and Forgotten_sage. Thanks for the gifts.]

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Alex found travel in this new world of his to be incredibly... inconvenient.

He hadn’t expected the existence of cars—he wasn’t that naïve—but he had at least hoped for trains in a magical, arcane-powered civilisation. Unfortunately, no such thing existed in Pangea, despite all its mystical advancements.

And if trains didn’t exist, then airplanes were clearly out of the question.

To be fair, long-distance transportation did exist. It just wasn’t nearly as convenient as what Alex had grown used to in his previous life.

Water travel was, perhaps, the most developed method of mass transit in Pangea. Sailing down rivers or coasting across oceans was a far better option than enduring the harsh terrain of the mainland. Magic-powered ships could traverse thousands of kilometres in a single day. There were even aquatic mount-beast services—cheaper, if considerably bumpier.

And if one wanted something even faster than land or sea, aerial travel was also available—technically.

There were no airplanes, jets, or even basic airships. But there were flying beast mounts. The classics: griffons, wyverns, and the like. There were also rarer and more exotic breeds like Sky Whales—used for cargo transport—and Winged Chimeras, often deployed as elite military mounts.

With Earl Drake Fury’s wealth and influence, Alex had assumed it would’ve been no trouble to hire some aerial beasts—or even book a ride on one of those massive Sky Whales—for a swift return home.

He was wrong.

Instead of an effortless journey by air or a smooth one by ship, Alex found himself escorted by a squad of elite heavy cavalry, mounted on horseback and bracing for a grueling overland trek.

Why?

Because his dear father—the Mad Earl himself—wanted him bloodied before he returned home.

Earl Drake wanted his son to gain real combat experience. Not the kind taught in a classroom or learned by watching others, but the brutal, hands-on, bleed-or-die kind.

He wanted Alex to learn how to command knights, direct armoured troops, and survive dangerous territory—all skills he wouldn’t pick up inside the safety of the Mage Tower.

So instead of a convenient flight or voyage, Jared arranged a month-long campaign overland. Their route would take them through savage terrain, feral beast territories, and even lands held by hostile noble families and races—many of whom hated the Fury Family with a passion. Enough, in fact, that they’d gladly sip wine from the skull of the Mad Earl’s heir.

To say the journey was perilous would be putting it mildly.

Of course, Alex had protested—strongly. But Jared had shut him down immediately, citing direct orders from Earl Drake Fury.

The Earl had been explicit. He wanted Alex to draw the blood of monsters, hostile races, and enemy humans alike. He wanted his son’s hands stained—not with ink or chalk-dust, but with the blood of those who stood in his way.

And so, under that mandate, Jared would see it done.

Naturally, Alex fought tooth and nail to survive the ordeal. The stakes were no less than his life, especially with the lunatic Dark Knight calling the shots.

What Alex didn’t know, however, was that Jared—despite his harsh methods—never allowed them to face more than Alex could realistically handle. He quietly scaled each encounter to match the young mage’s current level of skill, ensuring the boy was always tested... but never doomed.

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By the time the group left the wilderness and returned to the Empire’s main highway, Alex had already developed a nascent aura of killing intent around him—so much so that Jared had to halt their travel for half a day just to teach the youth how to suppress and contain it.

Exactly thirty-five days after departing from the DragonHold Enclave, the group of eight—men and mounts—entered the capital city of one of the dozen or so Fury-affiliated viscounties.

This particular viscounty served as one of the gateways to Earl Drake Fury’s fiefdom. And although the local viscount would never publicly admit it, he was a vassal of the Mad Earl.

To avoid drawing attention or alarming any unfriendly elements, the group entered the city incognito.

While Alex might be the heir apparent to Earl Drake Fury, his life was anything but secure. No one wanted to provoke the Mad Earl, true—but the Fury bloodline was infamous for producing lunatics who respected power above all else. It wouldn’t be beyond a fellow family member to try and assassinate Alex simply for being ’weak’—for failing to awaken the family’s bloodline talents.

Taking no chances, Jared sent three of the knights ahead to scout the route. Then, without any warning or explanation, he vanished entirely, leaving Alex to enter the city with the remaining three knights.

To keep a low profile, Fen shrank down to his original cub size, allowing Alex to swap onto a mundane horse they had picked up from a waystation ten miles out from the city.

Compared to the heavily guarded merchant caravans and noble entourages flowing into the city, Alex and his small group were inconspicuous—just another minor noble and his guards.

Under the lead of one of the armoured knights, they quickly located a modest but clean inn. Evening was approaching, but thanks to the power of gold, Alex and his companions secured rooms without issue.

"Master Alex," the youngest knight—a man in his early twenties—said eagerly, "Mormont City is a major trade hub within Fury Territory. All kinds of rare goods show up in the markets here. You might want to take a look before we head to the Ashen Castle. At the very least, it’s a good way to unwind after the journey."

Alex glanced at the other knights. From their expressions, it was obvious they were of the same opinion—or perhaps they simply wanted an excuse to explore the city. Either way, he decided to agree.

To be honest, he did need a bit of a breather.

The group left the inn and made their way to the city’s central plaza, where the top-tier shops and stalls were located.

As they walked through the market, Alex finally got a real comparison for the Enclave goods he’d grown so accustomed to.

The first thing he noticed was the sheer difference in price.

Goods in Mormont City were significantly cheaper than those sold at the DragonHold Enclave.

He found it almost unbelievable—frankly suspicious—that a warrior-led city under the Fury Family would have cheaper magical goods than a major arcane institution like the Enclave.

To test this theory, Alex bought a random healing potion that cost just 10 gold coins. For comparison, a similar potion at the Enclave would have set him back a staggering 500 gold.

He didn’t even need to drink it to realise the difference.

It was low-grade trash.

The potion might heal a light scratch instantly and offer a slight boost to recovery speed, but that was it.

The Enclave’s potions, on the other hand, could instantly close major external wounds and stabilise severe internal injuries. As long as the user was still breathing, an Enclave potion could keep them alive long enough to receive proper treatment—even on the battlefield.

Simply put: the price reflected the power.

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With this new perspective, the Enclave potions—once considered overpriced—now seemed entirely worth their cost.

Alex made a mental note: Never buy magical products outside the Enclave unless absolutely necessary.

The stroll through the city’s bustling markets proved to be more than just a distraction. It opened Alex’s eyes to the variety of products and resources available, as well as the fluctuating patterns of demand and supply.

To an outsider, this might seem trivial—why would a noble scion care about trade goods?

But Alex understood the truth: the driving force behind Planar Invasions—the very foundation of noble supremacy—was resource acquisition.

Success or failure in a planar conquest wasn’t determined by whether a realm was conquered, but by how much valuable material could be extracted from it. There was no point wasting resources and manpower conquering a plane just to mine common iron ore, which was already abundant in Pangea.

Only rare and profitable resources justified the cost of a planar expedition.

In that sense, planar conquests weren’t military operations at their core—they were economic ventures, large-scale interdimensional business enterprises. If it were solely about war, the nobles of Pangea would have focused their efforts on expanding within the realm instead.

Which meant: if one was to take part in these invasions, understanding the market was essential.

Thanks to his Eidetic Memory, Alex meticulously recorded prices, materials, goods, and their regional variations. He began categorising which resources were viable for exploitation and trade—and which would be a waste of time.

While he did this, the knights were far more relaxed.

Eventually, after a hearty meal in a classy restaurant, Alex and his escort returned to their inn.

Alex watched them laugh and chat freely, a mild frown tugging at his lips.

To the knights, the city was a safe haven—civilised, secure, and welcoming.

To Alex, it was something else entirely.

It was the mouth of the beast—the final gateway before stepping into the true battlefield.

’Maybe I’m being too hard on myself,’ he mused, glancing around the quiet streets. ’I should probably take their advice... and relax a little.’

But just as the thought formed, Uthvaasgol’s voice echoed like thunder in his mind:

’Never. Grow. Complacent.’

Instantly, Alex’s body tensed.

’No. This isn’t the time to relax. That time will come... but it’s not now. I’m far from safe.’

His gaze sharpened, flickering with caution.

They turned onto a narrow alleyway leading to their inn. The path was dim, the streetlamps flickering with unstable mana. Twisting shadows danced across the walls, forming monstrous shapes that might frighten ordinary passers-by.

But Alex and his group were far from ordinary—and they walked through the gloom without hesitation.

Until Alex suddenly stopped.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

The night was chilly, yes—but this was different. The air had taken on an unnatural weight, a suffocating stillness.

His senses flared.

It wasn’t the cold of the wind.

It was the cold of death.

A drop of sweat ran down his back.

Killing Intent!

His mouth moved instinctively. "Amb—!"

But he never got to finish.

The monstrous shadows they had ignored twisted—morphing into humanoid shapes that rose from the darkness like spirits.

Figures lunged forward—daggers gleaming faintly with poison enchantments—thrusting toward Alex and the knights from behind, silent as death.

’Assassins!’

That was the only thought that raced through Alex’s mind—

—as a dagger flashed toward his spine.

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