Night fell， and the thick fog gradually lifted， allowing moonlight to spill across the landscape.
After nearly a full day of travel， the adventuring party had finally left the Mist Trail behind.
The journey had been uneventful—no battles， no surprises. A few wolves had watched them from the edge of the woodland for a while before slipping away into the trees.
Even though he had seen it many times before， Renato was still struck by the beauty of Mirror Lake each visit.
True to its name， the lake’s surface was perfectly still， without the slightest ripple， resembling not water but a vast sheet of glass.
In the darkness， the lake became a second sky， faithfully reflecting every star above with mirror-like precision. Standing at its edge， Renato sometimes felt as though the world had inverted， heaven and earth swapped places.
The mage had chosen the campsite on a hillside some distance from the shore， claiming it was to guard against possible threats lurking in the water. This decision annoyed everyone. The party had camped beside Mirror Lake many times before， and not once had they seen so much as a fish in its depths—what threat could there possibly be?
Still， he was the mage， and more importantly， he was the one paying for the job. No one dared voice their objections aloud. They could only mutter curses under their breath while fetching water from the lake to vent their frustration.
Winter was approaching， and the nights in the Phantom Forest grew noticeably colder than the days. The group gathered dead branches and built a campfire in the camp—at least it would make sleeping a little more bearable.
Unlike the cozy scenes described in bards’ tales， there was no shared meal around the fire， no heartfelt late-night conversation.
Other adventuring parties in wealthier regions might have proper tents and hearty stew， but teams out of Brecka Town could not afford such 'luxuries'. Every inch of space and every ounce of strength the adventurers carried was reserved for loot and the tools needed to fight monsters.
Like the others， Renato pulled his rations from his pack: a chunk of rock-hard black bread， dry as stone.
“Tastes like plaster， feels like cement，” was Renato’s honest assessment.
No matter how many times he ate it， he never grew accustomed to its peculiar texture.
Even a knife struggled to cut through it. If he kept eating this stuff， he’d lose all his teeth eventually. He needed to earn some real coin soon—winter would be brutal otherwise.
The mage had positioned himself well away from the fire. He was scattering some unidentified powder and pressing his hand to the ground while murmuring incantations.
No one knew what he was doing， and no one wanted to ask.
Staying clear of a casting mage—whether friend or foe—was basic common sense among adventurers.
Mages were often eccentric， and their spells could produce wildly unpredictable effects.
Of all the disasters in the world， mortals caused perhaps one in ten; the rest came from the quarrels of the gods. And of that one-tenth caused by mortals， nine-tenths could be blamed on mages and their insatiable curiosity paired with dangerously unreliable magic.
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Everyone instinctively edged toward the opposite side of the campfire， putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the mage.
After a long day’s march and constant vigilance along the way， no one had the energy or mood for conversation. Once they finished routine weapon and armor maintenance， Renato leaned against a rock， hand resting on his sword hilt， closed his eyes， and took a light nap.
————
Stiff joints creaked as Renato stirred. It felt as though ice had seeped into his marrow. His back ached from the uneven stone beneath him， and his linen shirt had twisted and clung uncomfortably to his skin no matter how he adjusted it. Throughout the night， various sounds had woken him a dozen times. Fortunately， no monsters had attacked.
Yet the brief， interrupted sleep had done nothing to ease his exhaustion; if anything， he felt even more drained.
The rest of the party looked equally haggard—everyone except the mage. Somehow he had produced a finely crafted tent. Renato suspected the man carried a spatial storage item of some kind.
Fortunately， they did not have far to travel today. Following the shoreline of Mirror Lake， then crossing a single ridge， the group reached Dumb Valley in under three hours of brisk marching， just before the sun climbed high.
Two mountain ranges converged here， forming a massive fissure. The peaks cast deep shadows over the valley entrance， making the light dim and oppressive. The silence was profound; the constant chirping of insects and calls of birds that had accompanied them all along the trail had vanished entirely.
At that moment， however， Renato had no attention to spare for the scenery. After scouting the terrain around the spider nest， the ten adventurers gathered in a circle to discuss how to eliminate the giant spiders inside while preserving as much of the valuable loot as possible.
“If you ask me， we just pile up wood， set a big fire， and burn the damn things out，” one suggested.
“How big a fire would that even take? Shut up， big guy—we’re not here to chop firewood!” The freckle-faced woman paused， then added， “Besides， what about the spider eggs the mage wants? The contract didn’t say ‘cooked eggs.’”
“Then what’s your brilliant plan?”
“Fire’s definitely out，” she said， rubbing her chin. “So we go with the classic approach—just charge in and kill them.”
“Go to hell! You charge in then! I swear you’re dumber than the big guy!”
“Listen—listen!” Joe raised his voice. “Charging straight in is suicide. It’s pitch black inside， nothing but webs everywhere. We can’t fight spiders in their own cave.”
When the group quieted， he lowered his tone and continued.
“So we lure them out and fight them in the open.”
“Little Finger， spare us the obvious，” said Marcus “The Deserter，” a burly man in chain mail with a military glaive resting on his shoulder. “The real question is how to lure them—and who’s going to be the bait?”
“We could draw lots…”
A stocky man gripping a cleaver stood up， cutting him off.
“Stuff your lots， Little Finger! Everyone knows you cheat. What， losing a finger for sleight-of-hand wasn’t enough lesson?”
......
Renato stayed out of the argument. Instead， his gaze settled on the mage， who stood apart and was being deliberately ignored by the others.
As the employer， the mage was not required to join the fighting.
Yet Renato knew that whether magical support was available could easily decide the outcome of any battle.
Remembering a tip from the [Adventurer’s Guide]， he decided to speak with the enigmatic spellcaster.
After choosing his words carefully， Renato addressed him.
“Sir， do you have any thoughts on how we should proceed?”
The mage did not turn. He continued studying the spider nest in the distance and replied evenly，
“I am here only to document your results and pay you accordingly. I provided the funds; I hired you. There is no custom requiring an employer to take part in the action.”
“But we are underprepared，” Renato pressed. “Rushing in blindly risks failure， which would waste your time and coin. With your magical assistance， I believe we could complete the task quickly and cleanly.”
The mage stroked a ring on his finger as though he had not heard. After a long pause， he spoke.
“I will not join the fighting. Every spell I cast carries a cost. You are the ones I commissioned; employers are not expected to risk themselves.” His tone shifted slightly. “That said， for the sake of efficiency， I will cast a spell before the operation to draw some of the giant spiders out of the nest. Beyond that， I will offer no further magical aid.”
With the mage’s promise secured， the meeting broke up immediately. Everyone began preparing for combat against the spiders that would soon emerge.
“Take your positions now，” the mage instructed. “I have limited time to waste. One hour from now， I will release the spell and bring part of the nest’s inhabitants into the open.”
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