Entering Lyndaria, Ruining Their Good Deed

Master Graves stood there, silent as a shadow, his entire form wrapped in black. Under the torchlight, he radiated an eerie chill.

But the Eighteen Riders were overthinking it—the atmosphere here was just too strange...

In the woods, wind rustled the branches. Leaves swayed in the breeze, and under moonlight they looked like ghostly figures drifting overhead, chilling and terrifying. Add in Master Graves saying there were many dead ahead, and it was impossible not to imagine the worst.

"Ahem..." One of the Eighteen Riders coughed, trying to cover his unease. "Miss, should we go now?"

"Let's take a look. The smell of blood is getting stronger—I don't know what's happened." Even if they didn't go, the other side probably wouldn't let them go unharmed.

With blood so thick in the air, whoever did this was no soft-hearted soul. Just being in these woods was enough to make them suspects. Better to confront the danger than wait for someone to silence them in secret.

When Serena suggested they investigate, the Eighteen Riders and Master Graves followed her lead without hesitation.

Everyone except Master Graves held a torch, their small circle blazing with light, while he lingered in the shadows.

They needed the blaze not just for light, but to steady their nerves.

As they drew closer, the stench of blood grew overpowering. Even the battle-hardened Eighteen Riders couldn't help but frown—and when they saw the pit, heaped with mangled corpses and body parts, several doubled over, retching violently on the spot...

"Ugh..." The Eighteen Riders didn’t want to look weak, but their stomachs churned. The stench triggered their guts, and until they’d emptied everything, they couldn’t even stand.

Only Serena and Master Graves stood before the pit, faces unreadable.

The pit wasn’t large—just over ten meters across, its depth unclear. Inside, dismembered bodies were piled high, soaked in blood and drifting in the murky pool. Heads and coils of intestines bobbed to the surface now and then, a sight to freeze the blood...

"We interrupted someone’s business." Beside the pit, two intact corpses lay waiting—clearly not yet chopped up and thrown in.

"Mm." Master Graves replied. The darkness hid his expression, but you could tell he wasn’t fazed by a scene like this.

The Eighteen Riders retched and retched. Only once they’d emptied their stomachs did they feel a little better. After rinsing their mouths with water, they stepped forward and asked in a low voice, "Miss, should we scout the area?"

They wanted to redeem themselves—and get away from that nightmare pit.

Damn, who wouldn’t be freaked out by this?

"Go ahead." Serena didn’t make things difficult for them. She understood how most people would react to such a scene—the Eighteen Riders only retched, which was already impressive.

Why wasn’t she afraid?

She’d seen enough—nothing could scare her anymore.

Under that lab, there was a pit hundreds of square meters wide, packed with corpses whose organs had been harvested. It was cleaned up, so there wasn’t blood everywhere, not as terrifying as this—but in the end, a corpse is a corpse. Who’s really any nobler?

"Later, bury them." The dead deserve peace, and that was all she could do.

The Eighteen Riders grimaced, but didn’t dare refuse. They nodded, bracing themselves.

"Miss, there’s someone alive over here!" Not far off, one of the scouting Eighteen Riders shouted with excitement.

"Let’s go check it out..." Serena signaled for Master Graves to follow.

When Serena arrived, the Eighteen Riders had just lowered the person from the tree.

It was a child, about five or six, a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth, hands bound, hanging from a tree—who knew for how long. When Serena approached, the child was still conscious.

Seeing people approach, the child curled up, trembling, eyes wide with terror, whimpering like a wounded animal.

"Quick, get him to camp." Serena stepped aside for Master Graves to approach, but the child only shook harder, muffled cries of protest escaping his mouth. He struggled, refusing to let Master Graves touch him.

"Let me try." An Eighteen Rider stepped up, but the child still fought, his arms limp, crying out like a wild animal, nearly hysterical—he wouldn’t let anyone near.

Classic signs of abuse—terrified of human contact.

Serena motioned for the Eighteen Rider to step back. "Let me try."

Serena opened her arms and gave a gentle, practiced smile—the kind she’d perfected to help patients lower their guard.

The child didn’t resist Serena’s approach. His big eyes locked onto her, as if judging whether she was safe.

"Don’t be afraid, we’re not bad people. We’re here to help you. I promise—no one will ever bully you again." The mix of fear and hope in his eyes was heartbreaking. Who knew how long he’d suffered, or what horrors he’d endured?

From this angle, you could almost see the corpse pit in daylight.

The child stayed frozen, just staring at Serena. For a long moment, everyone thought he’d gone numb—then suddenly, he burst into tears, wailing with a grief and terror that words couldn’t describe.

"It’s okay, it’s okay. No one will hurt you anymore." Serena stepped forward and gathered him in her arms. This time, the child didn’t struggle—he just clung to her, docile and desperate.

He looked about five or six, but there was barely any flesh on his bones. Serena lifted him easily, he weighed almost nothing.

"This isn’t good—his hands might be ruined." Once she had him in her arms, Serena saw under the lamplight that the ropes had cut off circulation for too long. His arms looked withered.

"Quick—" Serena’s heart clenched. She ran for camp, cradling the child. "Leave two people here to check for any more survivors."

"Yes, ma’am!"

The Eighteen Riders split up. Master Graves stayed close to Serena, but once he sensed the child’s fear of him, he faded into the shadows as soon as they reached camp.

The child in her arms was in terrible shape—he must have survived on sheer willpower. As soon as Serena laid him on the bed, he passed out, tears still streaking his face. Even asleep, his brows were twisted in fear, as if trapped in nightmares.

Serena quickly activated her Smart Med-Pack and opened her medicine chest, grabbing scissors to cut away the child’s clothes.

The child’s arms had been bound so tightly, the cloth had cut into his flesh. When Serena removed it, he bit his lip against the pain.

"His arms are ruined." Seeing the necrosis, Serena’s nose stung—her heart ached for him.

Without hands, this child’s life would be unbearably hard.

Serena took a deep breath, masking her feelings behind a layer of cold professionalism. She examined the child thoroughly for other injuries.

Thankfully, aside from his arms, the child had no hidden wounds—just severe malnutrition, his bones jutting out. Who knew how long he’d been abused, or what kind of shadow it left on his heart...