Ortell hid a strong physique under his cloak and even though he had been wearing it since the sandstorm passed, he didn't seem to mind it. His power was notable by the broadness and the stance he asserted. He stood calm, steady, and unbothered by the wind that surrounded him since it was part of his power.

Rarely would come such a man to go against Thar, and even he, being the Undead Kind, wondered how he forgot such a man. He was suspicious about the time, or it was longer than his knowledge? He definitely remembered some occasions where he wasn't here because of certain incidents in the Hall Haven. If that was the case then this man was... questionable.

Thar got some impression at last, and this man named Ortell fought with him like a champ and fought without problems. Ortel figured the fight was already behind him, it wasn't so bad as he heard. This place wasn't up to him in the long run, so he sure felt some nostalgia.

He unmasked his face by letting the fabric down his neck, revealing a rough-looking face of a middle-aged man. Well, perhaps even a bit older than that, since he had some wrinkles, and the air around him spoke of some experience. One could guess from his face alone he was in his 40s or even 50s, yet what about his body? Behind the cloak was in no shape or form an old body, and Thar felt it more than he acknowledged.

Still, his face had a fine defined structure, and his chin had pronounced edges. A rough beard he didn't shave in a long time, revealed his lack of care about appearances, or any attitude. But one thing was clear. Ortell held unfathomable power and experience, and from a glance, one wouldn't be able to guess how much of it was a front.

“Don't use my name, brat. Should I call you out like that as well, hm? There is politeness, and then, there is some common sense. Use and learn it.” Ortell argued with the lady who called him out.

She chuckled instead, uncaring about his words. “I don't care what this means to you. I have things to do, unlike you. I am doubtful many will live past this day, and whether it is me or you, it isn't important. You took this with Razmund more than me, so speak up.”

“What a cheeky brat!” Ortell said, disappointment was more than apparent on his face, and any power went out of his way. “You think of this way too much. That is a pessimism. For such a group of high-level adventures like this to think of dying before even starting this all, I doubt it even makes sense. We are going against the Encounter, for Wisdom's sake! And you talk as if we go to the jaw of a monster? Is that right, Mikkala?”

“We don't?” she replied as if she was right. “I speak the truth, unlike some other people,” Mikkala argued, uncaring about her name, so she also uncovered her hood. Underneath a dark cloak, there was a demonic face mask that seemed curved out of some wood, akin to a bone. It was a single piece for sure, and an animal one, by all guesses. Surprisingly, she also pulled it aside, revealing part of her face. Her green eyes.

She put the cloak towards her spatial ring that had been helping her for the past hours. The ring itself was spatial equipment, and whether one had to store something, a spatial whirlpool emerged from the ring and absorbed everything. It went quickly, and access went along with one's sense since it was a different kind of equipment than the physical pouch.

She paid some attention to her attire, which left her looks completely revealed. She wore light clothes, similar to a robe, but not truly. It was looking like a combat uniform, and it fit her figure well, and not one bit of it even revealed her upper body. She had high-knee boots, shorts revealing her thighs, and a robe shirt that showed some metallic-looking armament underneath. It was slim and collected, probably crafted with pretty good materials, as it was light and strong.

Her eyes were indifferent and sharp. She must be much younger than Ortell. She was also smaller and in her late 20s. Apart from the clothes of deep blackness, and shiny armament underneath, she wore a belt with all kinds of stuff. There were elixirs, pouches, and other stuff that she had to take care of according to her missions and her status. It was an attire similar to many higher-level adventures and she looked quite strong.

There were two neat swords aside from her left hip, resting and showing their silvery colors. They were looking sharp, as they had no scabbard to let them rest. There were also two other swords behind her back. Those were not that long and considered short swords, at best.

Her long black hair was swaying by the wind, flaring around her back, behind the sword, and her front. Ortell knew this lady, who was much younger than him but he never had a chance to experience a mission with her. That would be fun, he reckoned, but he couldn't help but question her current intentions and what she wanted.

“Anyway, what an assassin like you is doing in this place? I thought your kind is restricting working with the Centralis Kingdom, or is this something new? Old? I haven't acted in such high stakes in a long time, so tell me.” Ortell asked openly.

“Why not to act? This seems like fun,” Mikkala answered with a smile that wasn't visible since only her eyes were visible under the mask. “In money, of course. I've got plenty of reason to not let this go, and it wasn't Razmund who did reach us. His master did.”

Ortell took this without much regard, ignoring other people who were standing aside, but there weren't a lot of them. Razmund did take this party seriously and invited those worthy of some notion to get this Encounter going. That was him, and Gordfient, but Mikkala was different since she was not independent. It meant the management of the Helpes was complicated and he did understand why.

They shouldn't be overly powerful, as he had to act in some care about the temple, but the Encounter? Each Helper was an important piece to each Part of the Encounter. Ortell's level was high, and who knew what the other side was like? He had no idea, but he knew his level was higher than Razmund's. Those could mean a lot of messed up things according to his knowledge about Encounters.

However, no Helper was even remotely doubting his stay here, and neither did Razmund or the Centralis Kingdom. It was weird. Ortell was way outside of the league of this caliber, but since he insisted it would be enough, he accepted this mission. He was strong while the others were significantly weaker.

Not far away, Paulfred and Waldorf were standing, watching Ortell and Mikkala's arguments that seemed petty, at worst. They were much stronger than them, so their power dynamic was lacking. They knew that Ortell was acting as a leader per Razmund's wishes and plans. That was enough for them.

There was no point in hiding in their prose or thinking further about this Encounter. Their Hunt was part of what Razmund had.

Razmund had limited Helpers, and he couldn't get more them 5 of them. Even higher rank Adventures, better mercenaries, or Falconers would be better. Waldorf and Paulfred knew little about the Encounter because Razmund didn't inform them much. It went as usual, since Blessed had their worries, while Blessed Companions were often forgotten. The pair took the arguing pair in different vision as Gordfiend, albeit to a lesser degree. They didn't find it worth talking to other mad people, so they waited until everything calmed down, which wasn't far off.

Standing aside ended up being a good idea, as their purpose wasn't up to them. Now, the leadership went towards Ortell, whom they all knew very much. He was older than he looked and with power that was unquestionable and also famous.

It wasn't just them. Gordfiend and the remaining tools around him were already waiting, eyes wet and red. They cried the tears of war, and Gordfiend remained bloody after finishing his 4 wounded brothers. That's how it went in the Highlands, and he wasn't ashamed. No... He was raging! His soul was screaming!

The next choice happened quickly, as Thar was eyeing everything that was happening in his own way. That included his hand. None of the Challengers walked towards the temple for now, which put him on guard, because that didn't make sense. They can walk there. It was open and inviting, albeit hiding chaos and dread.

Thar already guessed the rough power of this group, and it wasn't small at all. The strength of this Ortell guy was undeniable, and his strength was at the limits of what non-extremes could achieve. He also heard their conversation. It was very open, even with him present, so he had various thoughts about it.

What kind of Encoutner is it? I thought it was.. simple, but I am hearing something else. Mindarch wasn't too detailed. This means trouble. It went faster than expected and Lisa didn't include the other side when we spoke. What in the world is happening with this group? Hell, even Murai and his... prose? He is against them? Him? Less than level 20, and 1 year old? What in the world is Lordis thinking of this Hunt!? He cherishes rules and even forfeits them pm a whim, and for what? This seems like a total mess that Judges should've heard about long ago, and it is obviously wrong. What is going on? Thar wondered, unaware of the undeniable work of gods that operated behind the scenes.

It was complicated for his current position to think of it further. It wasn't even something he should care about, however. His time to wonder was long gone, and he wasn't able to protect the truth of this world. He was an observer now and was less adamant about the statuses of these people, but not like it mattered too much to him. He realized it and accepted it like he did with Murai.

“Well, you bunch of little fools...” Thar sighed and spoke loudly to let everyone be silent. “You all are takers of some chances, but the temple will take it all.”

He returned to his horse, which was laying on the ground, dead. It wasn't dead per se, as it was long undead, but the Soul Flames in its eye sockets were almost gone since Ortell made sure to extinguish them.

“You shouldn't have gone for the kill, human...” Thar complained to Ortell, turning his Soul Flames at him, but Ortell only smirked in return.

“It would be disadvantageous if you kept your mount. Strategies, you see? They matter. Not sorry.”

Thar didn't answer that and forced his horse to its legs and patted its head a few times. He returned the color of the flames back to its sockets. The horse huffed the smoke out of its mouth, shuddered, and trembled before smacking the ground with wild stomps. Thar calmed it down and almost smacked it at the end, but the horse realized the End was yet to come. It huffed some smoke at Ortell, and wild Soul Flames glared at him in annoyance. “This one didn't like it... you see? It is pissed.” Thar said, mounted the horse, and watched the group.

“Anyway, what a powerful group you all are, so let me ask you some wondering questions since you aren't taking even a step into the temple. Do you want to seek a Hell Party? All of you?” Thar asked, figuring this must be the only explanation since neither of them stated a thing. Ortell was eligible for some unique approaches to the Welcoming Party, but he stated nothing about it.

“That is exactly that, bony friend,” Ortell said with a smile. He appeared quite casual and friendly like that, causing Thar to put his guard up even more.

Wait, do I need to feel this way? Thar thought to himself, yet remained an appearance of the lofty individual who he undoubtedly was

“Hell Party?” Gordfiend mumbled as he was one of the more clueless individuals after hearing this topic for the first time.

“Which Gate?” Thar asked.

“4th.”

“That... is a bit low, don't you think?”

“We can decide whatever we want, don't we?” Mikkala asked, unbothered by the pressure Thar was letting out like the sun that let the sunshine out. She was in the rough power level that Razmund possessed, but this was her 2nd visit to this place, so she had no choice but to move along the rules.

Just what was their group doing with the Hell Party? It was a clever tactic, that seemed to be better than one would guess. They were abusing the system of the Levandis Temple and were to catch Murai between two unmoving sides. Those were the Gates. Obe will be then, and the other was Razmund.

Thar understood what was going on, yet he couldn't fathom how sick and unnecessary this all seemed. They were making decisions as if they had all ideas of what would happen next, which was impossible. Yet what he could do about it? Did he even want to help Murai and Lisa? A little... Well, he wanted some explanations, but it was far too late for that.

The Hell Party was a rather sensitive topic. It was a unique opportunity that was a much harsher part of the temple's challenges and corresponded to a very potent and dangerous time. It went right against Levandis herself, and Hell Party was a nasty thing that was rarely happening. It always put forth utmost chaos on one particular Gate, because Hell Haven will get included.

Thar could tell straight away what this meant, and it was their decision that mattered. Not his. They will meet with quite some chaos from the many sides of the Hell Haven, and this will stir part of Levandi's interest. This temple was hers, and it was her place where chaos moved.

“Challengers decide whatever they want,” Thar said. “You are right, yet the power and opportunities of the Hell Parties are next. The further one goes to the Gates, the more precious it gets. Gate 4 for your group... I can't see it disapproved, since you want to stir chaos in the Depths, and the Hell Haven, or do something else. I suggest care, as this seems like an excuse to start some troubles down below instead. Depths won't take it that well.”

“Once again, we...”

“You can do whatever you want. I get it.” Thar halted Mikkala from continuing and glanced at the temple. “It is a fitting End to seek the temple, so prepare your group for the chaos that will follow, or for the Ends that will clutch your souls,” Thar stated coldly and flickered his hand in the air. He snapped his fingers and ordered his army of hundreds to sink into the sand.

In a moment, it was as if there was only desert, but Thar remained and went straight towards the temple's entrance. He will have to do something that he hasn't done in ages. The start of the Hell Party will definitely be a bothersome political mess down below, but it was also a chance.

There were no rules that he could use to refuse that. He could only believe in Murai's power or luck, while Lisa may or may not help him as he thought she could. This Party, may destroy him as easily as lifting a hand, so the question was, why is it so overbearing? Thar didn't know the full details, and he realized the ridicule of the situation when Mindarch spoke to his head. He shouldn't think too much about it, but he did care about his current job. For once, he wished to seek more information, yet he couldn't.

That was the truth.

Unknown to him, Uzbek, and Zendurion from the Centralis Kingdom used all of their chances to make this feasible. Experience and the age that came from history and living in this world helped with that, and they came up with a clever plan, and rules to Breach. However, neither of them knew how the other side went. That was a rule of the Encounter that remained untouched, and all sides could plot all they wanted, but this rule prevailed.

Razmund wasn't sure if his foe's journey toward the Death Valley and this temple was a decision based on hope, or if it was something more intricate than that. Still, it didn't stop him from using cracks in the rules to obtain a better grasp of the Encounter. Uzbek made sure to help with that, along with the Centralis Kingdom as a whole.

That was, to get a power that wasn't so indicative of the rules. It was almost too overbearing. A Wrath of the God, or Judge's descent may happen in most cases where a side of the Encounter would move against the prose.

It was complicated, and Lisa feared things could become much worse, and she had no idea how right she was.

The Centralis Kingdom used its advantages, so why not use them to a much bigger advantage? Razmund followed his plot to go along with that, and also his own path. He was confident in his own abilities, so his personal hunt shall be his next step.

Whether the people that were with him died or not was none of his problems. Well, in fact, if they will be of some use against the incoming troubles in the temple, he will be very glad to use their lives to his advantage. That, however, went along the Helper status, and it wasn't as if it was a slaving seal, or something cheap. Helpers had plentiful chances and worthy rewards for their purpose. It was subjective to their power and the Encounter. Helper's rewards were incredibly enticing, and most would beg to be part of the Helpers of any side.

Ortell summoned every one of the remaining people before the temple. Even Gordfiend, whose head and chest were all bloody had a serious face. He no longer talked, but bulging veins and muscles over his body revealed the utmost desire for battle. He will destroy everything for his fallen comrade and also something else. The blood will be a reminder, and for the sake of his fallen brothers, there was no sense in the lands where he came from.

“Very well. Some may not recognize me, but my name is Ortell Mauron.” Ortell talked to everyone like a boss, while Thar was further behind at the entrance.

“Mauron? That Mauron?” One of the Gordfiend's men said. He was a burly man who held a massive pillar as a weapon.

“That? No idea what that means, but I can't care. This is a chance for me, and your boss, while Mikkala and the pair of Razmund's toys are here to take their part. Are we ready? Is everyone worth enough?” he asked and folded his hands before his chest. He was a famous adventurer, as well as a former member of the Centralis Kingdom.

Because of some disputes over some land, or allegedly, because of some mission or problems with the higher-ups, he was let go of his duties. Now, he was a vagabond, who had no land under his name, but he was free to do whatever he wanted. He was not Blessed, but a being that was still talented. A proper native of this world.

Of course, that didn't mean it was a bad thing to have nothing. Past spoke thousands of words. He was still a famous figure in the Batlteworld since he was neither a Blessed nor was he a Gifted. Yet, he had some power to shatter the power of the Extremes, so what did it make him? If not a talent, then he was nobody.

He lost some power over his former decision, yet the ages passed, and this Battleworld still remained the same. Now, he was like a pillar of the country itself. At least in the Tier Cs, or some Bs. He was a person who could shake the status of smaller countries, and force some armies alone. Level 86, Mauron the Unfathomable, and one of the strongest adventurers below the Extreme.

His dismissive attitude and affirmation led to many thoughts in the group. There were the following members: Ortell, Mikkala, Paulfred, Waldorf, Gordfiend, and his remaining 5 brothers. There was no one else. No ordinary mercenaries would willingly take on an Encounter without being proper Helpers. That was dangerous, and not even crazy bounty hunters with some fame and willingness to work in exchange for money would take this task.

This group held almost no care for their lives because the reward outweighed the dangers. Razmund played a weird game, and getting Ortell was already worth the fortune. Be it in the notion of the rules, the money, or how it was even allowed.

“Now, you all! I don't know what you all want, but Razmund all employed us to play alongside him. Factors don't matter, other than the money and worth we have under our noses, so all he had to do, was to adjust our strategy by the use of Hell Party. We will go to the 4th Gate and stabilize the situation there for as long as it can be possible. There will be possible retaliation by the temple, but we are all powerful, am I right?”

Some of the people nodded, others grunted, but most remained silent.

This sounded like troubles indeed, Thar would add.