Chapter 5: The Emerald Mountains

Three Days Later—Emerald Mountains

The mountain path was slick with fresh rainfall, mist curling between the peaks like drifting ghosts.

Hutson rode with the company, his horse's hooves splashing through the damp earth. Behind them, a supply wagon rattled along, heavy with provisions.

The sky burned with the fading hues of sunset, and at the front of the formation, Sir Emil scanned the landscape for a suitable campsite.

Hutson, positioned in the middle of the group, kept his AI chip interface active. As they traveled, he recorded every landmark and pathway, refining an already existing map into a more detailed and accurate one.

They were making their way toward Pumpkin Farm, a key agricultural hub within Baron Buck's domain, located west of the Emerald Mountains. The Baron's castle lay on the eastern side, meaning they had to cross the mountains to reach their destination.

"We'll camp here for the night."

Emil had found a spacious cave, its walls lined with tufts of animal fur and the entrance marked by dried droppings.

It was clear—a bear once lived here.

Not that it mattered. If the beast returned, it would simply be offering its hide to the fire.

The horses were unbridled and left to graze freely in the nearby woods. The wagon was parked before the cave entrance, forming a makeshift barricade.

A campfire was lit, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.

Hutson unloaded supplies from the wagon—salted meat, potatoes, tomatoes, and other vegetables. Soon, a large iron pot hung above the fire, filled with a mishmash of ingredients.

This was their staple meal in the field—a single-pot stew, quick and efficient.

Nearby, a makeshift rack was set up for the guards to dry their soaked clothes.

Then—a disturbance.

"Oi! Jimmy! Take your damn socks off the drying rack! How many times do I have to tell you—no drying socks near the cooking fire! You want your meat to taste like old boots?!"

The booming voice of Hagen, a burly, bearded veteran, echoed through the cave.

Jimmy grinned sheepishly, quickly snatching up his offending socks and tossing them outside.

As the stew simmered, a thick, savory aroma filled the air, seeping into the night, carried by the cool mountain breeze.

Hutson lifted the lid, letting the scent explode into the cave.

"Dinner's ready!"

At once, the hungry soldiers gathered, iron bowls in hand.

Yet, no one moved.

All eyes turned to Sir Emil, who wordlessly speared some meat and vegetables, filled his bowl with broth, and retreated to the cave's entrance—gazing into the darkening wilderness.

Only then did the others dig in, the stew disappearing in moments amidst eager hands and empty stomachs.

Hutson, with AI chip's reflexive assistance, secured his share effortlessly—his skills at stealing food from the pot unmatched.

After eating, there was little left to do. The men chatted briefly around the fire before settling down for the night.

They slept with weapons close, their armor only partially removed, ensuring they could snap into battle at a moment's notice.

Tonight, Hutson stood guard.

Seated by the fire, he kept his senses sharp, his AI chip interface constantly scanning the surroundings.

With fresh rainfall, dry firewood was scarce—so he retrieved stored logs from the wagon to keep the fire burning.

A strong flame was essential. Wild beasts instinctively avoided fire, making it their first line of defense.

The hours crept by, the sound of raindrops dancing on stone.

Hutson checked the AI chip clock—1:00 AM.

Curiously, the chip had confirmed something: this world's day cycle was also twenty-four hours long.

He adjusted his internal clock accordingly.

A cold wind slithered into the cave, making the fire flicker and hiss.

Hutson's drowsiness vanished instantly.

His eyes narrowed, staring into the pitch-black forest beyond the cave's mouth.

His mini-map, originally limited to a ten-meter radius, had expanded as his physical capabilities grew—now covering a full hundred meters.

And then—a warning.

A red dot appeared on the map's left flank, near the tree line.

Then another.

And another.

Soon, eight hostile entities had entered the detection range.

More movement—on the right.

Nine more.

At the same time, a third squad approached from the front—three figures moving swiftly in the darkness.

They were surrounded.

Hutson's fingers closed around his sword, his voice a low but urgent whisper.

"Enemy attack."

Before Hutson even drew his blade, Emil was already awake, strapping on his armor with practiced speed.

The rest of the guards stirred instantly, their hands reaching for weapons.

Hutson kept his voice steady, relaying information precisely and efficiently.

"Two squads—one on the left, one on the right, each nine strong. Three more advancing from the front."

The fire crackled, shadows dancing against the cave walls.

Outside, hidden figures crept closer, their movements muffled by rain and darkness.

The battle was about to begin.

Emil didn't question how Hutson knew about the approaching enemies. He simply acted.

With a single, decisive motion, he kicked over the boiling stew pot, sending a cascade of scalding broth into the fire.

The flames sputtered and died.

Darkness swallowed the cave.

"Everyone, follow me! We break through from the right!" Emil commanded.

Their horses were waiting in the forest to the right. In the absence of knowledge about the enemy's full strength, escaping on horseback was the smartest move.

Without hesitation, Hutson and the others nodded in unison, falling in behind Emil as they charged out of the cave.

"Damn it! Don't let Emil escape!"

One of the enemy's leading figures, a man carrying a massive greatsword, bellowed in rage.

The ambushers had noticed the sudden commotion, and the instant the campfire went dark, they knew their element of surprise was lost.

Then—a volley of arrows.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

A hail of black-fletched shafts cut through the night air, but most were blocked by the overturned wagon in front of the cave entrance.

Yet, the enemy had anticipated their escape route.

As Emil's group sprinted toward the right-side forest, arrows rained down from the treetops, but in the cloak of night, none found their mark.

Hutson's eyes scanned the darkness—the enemy wasn't engaging them in direct combat.

They were lurking. Waiting.

Each of them was armed with bows, their silhouettes barely visible among the trees.

"They're here! Over this way!"

The enemy called out positions, and from his minimap, Hutson saw another squad moving to encircle them.

At the forefront, three figures closed in at an alarming speed.

They were no ordinary soldiers.

Only knights could move that fast.

They had only moments to escape.

"AI chip, activate assisted targeting."

At once, his vision adjusted.

Even in the pitch-black forest, Hutson's world became clear.

Every tree, every movement—every hidden figure lurking behind the trunks glowed in his sight.

They thought they were hidden.

They weren't.

From behind the cover of a gnarled oak, Hutson drew his bow, the arrow already nocked and ready.

He took precise aim at the shadows lurking just beyond the trees.

They couldn't see him.

But he could see them.

And he never missed.