On the Wright River.
Rona held the front of his magic staff. The Frost system spell flowed out from Rona’s palm. The magic staff, which was already slightly overheated, was quickly cooled down by the cold aura.
“Is there anyone alive under the cabin?”
“Saving people is really not something we should do.”
A mercenary complained in dissatisfaction. He had just carried an unconscious sailor onto the deck.
“Stop complaining. Bring the injured to the merchant ship’s spare wooden boat. This ship won’t last long!”
After the battle ended, Rona commanded the members to clean up the battlefield. The snake of Yevelk had indeed done many dirty things in the past, but these were all forced by life.
Now that their lives had long been stabilized, the members of the mercenary group all agreed that they still needed a good reputation.
Although it sounded hypocritical, it did not feel good to be avoided like a plague on the streets.
