The Duchy of Crawford was a prime hunting ground for mercenaries looking to slay monsters.
With its vast, mountainous terrain, it was no surprise that rare creatures were frequently sighted.
"I heard there's a Specter lurking behind Mount Berkal," a mercenary muttered over his drink.
"You mean those ghosts? They're a pain in the ass," another groaned. "And they don't even drop anything useful if you manage to get rid of them."
"Besides, we don't have the right weapons to deal with them. Best to steer clear."
"Damn it. Why do these weirdos keep causing trouble?"
"Probably because so many people died in that area. Their vengeful spirits must have fused with magic and turned into monsters."
"Tch. The Duchy of Crawford has always been a dangerous place."
Abel listened to their conversation with growing interest.
He elbowed Vargas, who was sipping his drink lazily.
"How about that?" Abel asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
