Twisting, winding pathways.
No, was there even anything like that?!
Didn't twisting, winding pathways at least have some semblance of direction?!
It became clear that Bertram didn't have anything like a set path he trusted once they began moving. His steps had no order, and the groups he led found themselves running so randomly they could've sworn they were just going in circles!
But Bertram's expression didn't relax in the slightest as he pushed forward. The undead horde faded into a blurry fog, the roars of battle became nothing more than a whisper, and every single pit of his attention honed in on the ethereal path that was forming itself in his eyes.
There was a question he always asked himself.
Why did he consider himself the perfect guide when he hadn't established a trusty route?
In his mind, anyone who trusted routes without question was an idiot, mediocre at best. Routes could be followed by anyone, so what was the point of a guide? If an adventurer was able to memorize the route for themselves, wouldn't the guide become irrelevant?
The Severed World was a place that was constantly changing, and it didn't receive too many recurring powerful guests who'd be able to do these things, but it had plenty of opportunists looking for their entrance into the guide scene so they could make quick money.
Which routes would they use?
Of course, they were the same routes trusted by the rest.
Bertram wanted to be different, and he had the ability to act on this desire. His instinct allowed him to see not only the safest path, but also the most beneficial one.
His reputation had been sullied over time not because the paths he took were bad, but because the adventurers who hired him never chose the safe path.
They wanted to chase benefits, and when he led them to those benefits, they died without fail.
That was just the kind of place the Severed World was!
Bertram could've solved his problem by removing the option to take the beneficial path, but what was the point of doing that when his goal from the start was to be different? Adventurous spirits would be adventurous regardless of what he did, therefore the choice remained in their hands.
For the first time in a long time, Bertram made his own decision; not to seek benefits, but to find the best path for survival!
The undead army grew larger with every second and the battle that raged on became hopeless. Even for Damien and his group, the usage of so many elixirs would definitely leave them endangered in the later layers.
But Bertram couldn't pay attention to it.
He needed to find the way out of the Netherworld Fog as fast as possible!
He followed his instinctual path and Damien and the rest followed him without question. They went deeper and deeper into the valley, their minds exhausted from the constant slaughter yet completely alert from the threat of death.
And that's when he realized it.
Even if they got to the other side, wouldn't they still be in the domain of Human-Faced Spiders?
Was there a real way to survive?
He doubted it internally, but his instinct never lied, so he threw away his negativity.
If it was death either way, he'd rather try until the very last second than give up and accept it peacefully!
This was the mentality that all of them adopted in this seemingly hopeless situation.
Damien and the other practitioners were forced to accept the true greatness of the restriction placed on them.
For Damien at his original level, something like this undead horde could be dealt with in a single attack! 2nd class meant absolutely nothing in front of the 2nd revolution!
But now that he was back at this level, he lost almost everything that made him what he was today.
The adventures he had during 3rd class were his defining moments. What he was left with was a weak lightning affinity, the foundations of Void Sword Art, and vectors that he barely had an understanding of!
He had to think of ways to creatively utilize what he had to cover his weaknesses, but how could he do that? He barely had time to breathe!
The swirling vortex above his head shrunk to a point, but its pull became far greater. The amount of mana in Damien's body was impossible for him to contain and still growing. It was a state that would be dangerous in any other situation, but his saving grace here.
It was a real struggle for all those involved, a struggle that didn't pause once in the 15 minutes they'd been running. From the sounds around them, there was no hope that such respite would be granted to them any time soon.
However, unexpectedly, this notion was incorrect.
Bertram's eyes widened as he tripped over his foot and fell forward.
He stumbled through the chaotic mana around him until he finally stabilized himself…in heaven?
He turned around to look behind him just in time to see Damien and the girls pushing through a shimmering wall of black light and stumbling into the same empty space as him.
"Haa…Haa…"
"Huu…"
The group immediately plopped on the ground and gathered themselves without a word, resting their minds and bodies for the inevitable next battle.
"This is…!" Bertram exclaimed in realization.
Nothing needed to be said.
This black light barrier spanned roughly 500 meters of space and sat like an isolated world within Ghost King's Valley.
This kind of structure could only mean one thing.
A small respite accompanied by an even greater danger.
Damien and the girls silently agreed on this conclusion and thus wasted no time preparing.
Meanwhile, Bertram collapsed on his butt, sweating profusely.
'I'm dead. My time has come.' he murmured inwardly, accepting his fate.
'Maybe I wasn't cut out for this guide shit. I shoulda just listened to my Ma and stayed on the farm!'
What else could he do but wait for death?
The current location was–
"Puha!"
"Hey, don't push!"
"Let me in, dammit! They're coming!"
A group of four pushed their way through the barrier and fell to the ground, sandwiching each other in the process.
"Damn! Didn't you say we were going somewhere safe?!" a bald white man among them sneered, wincing as the massive gash on his leg acted up.
"Aren't we? This place looks pretty safe to me," the other man said, getting out of the pile their group had formed and standing up.
The two women in their group sat to the side and didn't speak, but they looked at their party leader, Virgil, as if he were an idiot.
"This place looks safe to you?! This place is the furthest thing from safe!" The bald man roared. Grabbing Virgil's shoulders powerfully for effect.
"You bastard, right now we're in the FUCKING GHOST KING'S LAIR!"
Virgil's face fell.
"You serious?"
He looked between his group members, he looked at the others around them that he just noticed the existence of, and he saw how every single one of them was looking at him like he was brainless.
He scratched his head awkwardly.
"...oh, that's my bad then…"
