The carriage continued its path, with the horsemen following behind it. The end of the road was still not in sight for the coachman who riding the carriage carefully.
The leader of the horsemen group gazed toward Mamon in silence. From his neck, a bead of sweat flowed down, it was unknown whether it was because of the temperature of the sun or the tension he felt from the atmosphere.
As Idrik aimed his bow and Mamon clutched his knives, a few seconds of silence hung in the air.
"Swish!"
Suddenly, idrik released his bowstring, and in an instant, like a sudden thunder, his arrow shot through the air at a fast speed.
At the same time, Mamon swung his hand, and the knives relinquished from his hand moved toward the horsemen.
