Death Camp

Lina followed Richard out of the wooden hut, standing beside him with a trace of a mysterious smile on her face. She crossed her arms, looking at Schiller as if she was waiting for a scene to play out. Schiller walked out as well, although his face had grown somewhat unsightly.

Lina was about to speak, but was stopped with a wave of Richard’s arms. He didn’t look at Schiller at all, instead staring up at the purple moon that hung in the skies. He said indifferently, “This is the night of the purple moon, Mister Schiller. Do you know what it represents?”

Schiller growled, “I am just a brute.”

“It represents Alucia’s wrath,” Richard explained pleasantly.

Schiller’s expression froze for a moment, “I’m just a brute. I don’t understand what Young Master is trying to say. Is this Alucia you’re speaking of a beauty?”

Richard responded with a question of his own, “What is this place?”

“The Archerons’ death training camp,” Schiller replied.

Richard looked at the moon and asked softly, “Mister Schiller, I still don’t know your surname.”

“Toller,” Schiller replied, but his expression somewhat changed.

“What is the relationship between the Archerons and Tollers?” Richard pressed on.

“… There is none.” Schiller seemed to understand Richard’s intentions, and his face turned extremely dark. It actually looked like tears were about to fall.

“So, what level are you at right now?”

Schiller paused for a moment before saying, “… Level 19, Shadow Guard.”

Only then did Richard turn around to look Schiller in the eye, his voice turning icy, “Neither an Archeron, nor a legendary being. I don’t understand on what basis you assume that the people in this camp are your private property!”

Schiller pupils constricted, and a murderous aura poured out of his body. This outright reproach left him unable to repress his killing intent. He was the one who’d brought this camp to its current level of power, his greatest achievement in the family. However, it was only in the past few years that the family had shown any interest in him.

It was understandable why his actions were completely different from his pleasant words. The relationships between the Archerons weren’t too good, and those with equal levels of bloodline had great rivalry between them. Earl Goliath and Marquess Gaton, for example, were basically enemies. This death training camp was built in Goliath’s territory, so of course it was controlled by the Earl. Schiller was thus one of Goliath’s men.

Schiller wanted to retort, but his expression suddenly changed as a tiny golden scroll revealed itself in Richard’s hands. He recognised this item— it was a soul contract. Just the presence of this scroll was several times more effective in confirming Richard’s authority than Lina herself. The blessings of the Eternal Dragon were based on a factor of luck, but to get the soul contract meant one definitely had to offer a sacrifice that satisfied the Eternal Dragon. This scroll was equivalent to a thirty-year boost to one’s life!

Richard casually tossed this priceless item to Schiller’s hands and spoke icily, “I’m sure you know what this item is. I’m not here to play around, and my current mission cannot be changed by someone like you. I give you two choices: show me someone worthy of this scroll, or we leave.”

The scroll flashed a golden light, revealing a faint aura of time that allowed Schiller to confirm its authenticity. However, that put Schiller in a bad spot. This piece of paper now seemed as heavy as a mountain.

Just like Richard had said, nobody would bring out a soul contract if they were playing around. Not even the Sacred Alliance Emperor, Bloodthirsty Philip, would do so.

One of the resources the Archerons gave their core members was a personal bodyguard, trained at the death camp. However, the strength of that bodyguard was determined by the camp’s manager, and normally nobody would press the issue even if someone was assigned a weakling. Since this camp was in Earl Goliath’s territory, it was only natural that Gaton’s son would be given a poor guard.

However, there was a huge difference between a regular bodyguard and a soulguard. The moment Richard took out the soul contract, Schiller was left with no room whatsoever to maneuver in. If he sent the boy back empty-handed, he was sure that Gaton’s knights would come looking to kill him. Mordred or Asiris would definitely be overseeing the attack, so there would be no chance of escape. The best end would be being killed on the spot.

Schiller had never expected Richard’s attitude to be this unyielding, causing this stalemate in the situation. In fact, once Gaton had successfully entered Faust the relationship between him and his brother had mellowed. They had even begun to explore some avenues of cooperation, giving Richard a soulguard being an important one. But despite this change in circumstances, Schiller still treated Richard and Lina in such an unbecoming manner. Whether it was that he was being obstinate or that he wasn’t up to date on the information, only he knew.

The original missive Schiller had been given was to do his best to make things difficult for Richard, but not to hide the participants from him. He still had to show Richard the best talents in his camp. This was a contradictory command, but it worked well to sum up the relationship between Gaton and Goliath.

Schiller’s expression wavered, but Richard did not press on. He instead looked up at the purple moon, something that only caused the invisible pressure to grow. Schiller finally made up his mind and returned the scroll to Richard, before easing his tone and saying, “I understand your request. Please follow me; it’s already growing late, and we still have a ways to go.”

Schiller got on a horse, taking Richard and Lina through the forest. It took another hundred kilometres for them to reach a stream at the foothills of a mountain. There were two rows of disorderly wooden huts here, along with several caves that led deep into the mountain.

Schiller pointed ahead, “This is the true death camp. The most talented warriors of the family all walk out of here. Right now, there are three people who are above level 10. I’ll call them back right away.”

Richard nodded his head, and Schiller took out a metal whistle. He blew hard on it, and a shrill ear-piercing screech travelled throughout the area, causing a nearby flock of birds to fly away in fright.

Several of the wooden huts opened up, young men and women of various appearances walking out. The one commonality between them all was their wolf-like eyes.

Richard’s gaze swept past every participant present. Suddenly, the door of the wooden hut at the highest point of the stream was blasted open, as if the hut was going to collapse. A large brute walked out, almost completely naked except for some beastskin wrapped around his waist. He was extremely tall and sturdy, his chiseled muscles looking as hard as steel. The tiny wooden hut seemed barely able to hold his large body within, and he’d had to bend down to step through the door.

The large bloke walked out, and exclaimed, “Oh hoh! Boss, you brought new prey again?”

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