The caravan moved slowly along the narrow dirt road, wheels pressing softly against gravel and fallen leaves as it moved through the forest.
Supply wagons carrying crates and sealed chests rolled in careful formation, never straying too far from one another.
Every member of the caravan was a Magus. Their eyes constantly swept the tree lines, and their senses extended beyond sight alone. Detection spells were cast, threads of mana woven and unwoven as they probed for hidden threats.
Orc raiders or cultist scouts, either could be lurking among the dense foliage.
A teenager at the Mana Foundation Rank couldn't help but yawn and lazily scratch his head. After constantly being on alert, he was beginning to feel bored and sleepy.
"Snap out of it!" The leader of the caravan, a middle-aged Mana Liquefaction Magus, hissed at the youth. "Never lower your guard, boy!"
The teenager snapped awake. "Y-yes, sir!"
