Chapter 112 The Praying Mantis Stalks The Cicada, Unaware of the Oriole Behind
Chapter 112 The Praying Mantis Stalks The Cicada, Unaware of the Oriole Behind
The girls ran back into the cave. Inside, it no longer looked like a bare shelter. Rustic chairs, beds, and tables now filled the space, and salvaged planks from the ruined village formed makeshift walls. Candles glowed here and there, casting a warm, flickering light.
Mark was busy with a hammer and nails, working diligently on a small crib, a broad smile on his face. Nearby, Maggie sat in a chair, sewing baby clothes from larger scraps of fabric.
As soon as they saw the girls rush in, Reika spoke quickly, almost breathless:
“Brother Mark, Sister Maggie—there are more Death Tree people heading toward the village!”
The couple froze, fear flashing in their eyes, then anger.
Mark rose and grabbed a sword resting against the cave wall.
Alessandra stepped forward, blocking him. “Don’t, brother. You need to stay and protect your wife and baby. We’ll handle this.”
Yumi nodded firmly. “Iryoku’s already on his way. He’ll draw their attention in another direction.”
“Yeah. They’re after us anyway,” Reika added.
Agnes raised her hands, her voice steady with magic. “Rhogan—come to me.” The green stone at her neck glimmered faintly.
With a deep rumble, the great earth-rhino spirit emerged in a glow of light, its massive form rising from the ground itself. Agnes wasted no time, quickly fastening Rhogan to the armored carriage.
Maggie clutched her husband’s arm, her voice wavering. “But you’ve already done so much for us… isn’t there some way we can help?”
Reika shook her head with a gentle smile. “Iryoku sent a message—please, take care of this place. It’ll be a safe home for us to return to.”
Alessandra straightened. “Let’s go, girls.” She turned to Maggie and Mark, bowing her head. “Thank you—for saving Iryoku back then.”
The others bowed as well before climbing into the carriage.
Rhogan thundered forward, pulling the carriage with a deep growl.
Alessandra climbed into the driver’s seat.
Agnes closed her eyes, steadying her breath as she linked her sight to Orn. Through the wind-spirit eagle, she soared high above the canopy, her vision sweeping across the trees until movement caught her attention—a warband pushing through the undergrowth. Warriors clad in armor, each bearing the Death Tree insignia.
“Fifty warriors…” she murmured, counting carefully. “All mounted on beasts and monsters. And—” Her eyes narrowed. “A knight riding a giant lizard. That must be their leader.”
“They must be a high-level unit under Alexander,” Agnes continued. “I just hope he isn’t with them.”
“In which direction?” Yumi asked, eager to act.
Still with her eyes closed, Agnes pointed. “Northwest, near the ruins of the old village. They’re about to arrive.”
Yumi climbed to the hatch in the carriage roof, bow and arrow in hand.
Reika kept her eyes on the road ahead through the front window. “Let’s wait for Iryoku to make the first move, Yumi.”
“Roger,” Yumi replied, nocking her arrow.
As the warband neared the ruined village, a sharp crack split the air—a whip-like snap echoing from the treeline.
The knights jerked their shields up, weapons braced against the unseen threat. Then, in a blur, one of them was yanked off his mount, dragged screaming into the trees.
A wet, tearing sound followed. Something heavy flew back out of the shadows and landed on the road with a sickening thud.
It was the knight’s severed head.
The warband tightened ranks, shields raised, staves and bows at the ready. Their leader, an old, wiry warrior with a face carved by age and countless battles, snarled:
“Come out, bastard! Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
High above, Iryoku crouched on a branch, blades slick with blood, eyes sharp and daring.
“Who you lookin’ for, huh? I’m right here.”
Before the knights could answer, he vanished in a blur, leaping aside as a magic-imbued arrow shot past and detonated against the bark in a burst of sparks.
Iryoku melted back into the forest’s shadows.
“Don’t let him escape!” the leader bellowed, voice raw with fury. “The whores must be close as well—remember, the reward’s higher if they’re alive! They must pay for his sins against the Death Tree!”
…Shit. The small recon unit must’ve already been taken out by them, he realized.
With a roar, the mounted warriors spurred their beasts forward, charging into the forest after him. Wolves snarled and mountain lions shrieked as they bounded alongside.
“That’s right—come and get me, fuckers,” Iryoku muttered, deliberately slowing just enough to leave a trail. Overhead, Orn cut through the sky, circling above as a silent witness.
Iryoku pressed on, darting through the trees until the land began to rise. Ahead loomed a jagged hill, its rocky peaks stacked one after another, each higher than the last. Using his momentum, he launched into the air, soaring high before scaling the first peak—leaping from ledge to ledge with practiced ease.
A flash of green light tore past him—an energy blade slamming into the stone where he’d been a heartbeat before.
“Shit,” he hissed. “They’ve got some capable bastards after all.”
He zigzagged upward, dodging spellfire and arrows until he reached the top of the first peak. Glancing down, his eyes narrowed.
The warband’s leader urged his massive lizard mount forward. The beast clawed up the mountainside with terrifying ease, its tail lashing and knocking loose boulders as several warriors clung to its armored back. The rest dismounted at the base, preparing to climb, while others rode their beasts around, circling the surrounding peaks.
Iryoku cursed under his breath, then bolted toward the next ridge—taller, steeper, and far less forgiving. Behind him, more magic projectiles arced through the air, smashing into the rocks with bursts of light as the remaining warriors launched their attacks from below.
He climbed higher, scaling jagged rocks until he slipped into the mountain’s shadows. Searching for a vantage point, he stumbled onto something unexpected.
A massive nest sprawled before him, a heap of hay and broken branches cradling several giant eggs, each nearly half a meter tall. His eyes widened, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Well, well… what do we have here?” He glanced around. “Looks like mommy’s not home. Guess I’ll call her over.”
He scooped up an egg and rushed back to the cliff’s edge. Peering down at the advancing warband, he hurled it hard—then flicked a small stone right behind it.
The mounted warriors spotted the projectile. The leader urged his reptilian beast forward; the lizard hissed, tongue snapping out like a whip. But before it could snatch the egg, the stone struck—splitting the shell midair.
The egg burst open with a wet crack, spraying gore and reeking fluid across the riders. Dark streaks clung to armor and skin, faintly burning where they touched.
“The hell is this filth?!” the wiry old leader spat, clawing at the muck as his men gagged.
Then it came—the sound. A shriek, high and piercing, yet guttural enough to rattle stone. It carried hunger. Rage.
A massive shadow swept across the mountainside. Warriors froze, squinting upward, but the creature moved too fast. From below, shouts erupted as the rear line pointed skyward in panic.
The old leader’s eyes widened. “Shit…”
From the clouds it dived—a monstrous beast, its head that of a black eagle with a long, serrated beak made for tearing flesh. Its quadruped body was leonine, grotesquely muscled, its claws far too long, scythe-shaped, and dripping. Vast wings beat the air like thunder, and its hide gleamed dark and armored, scales interlocking across its chest like jagged plates.
“Get ready for battle!” the leader roared, raising his weapon as the beast screamed again—an ear-splitting cry—and rushed down upon them.
The fight began with a crash as the monstrous griffon dove at unimaginable speed. The lizard mount roared, snapping its whip-like tongue toward the beast. The griffon veered aside, wings slicing through shadow, and snatched a rider clean off the lizard’s back.
The creature hovered midair, clutching the knight in its hooked claws. Blood streamed down in sheets as the talons pierced deep. Then came the sickening crunch—the griffon’s beak stabbed into the man’s skull, covering it whole, ripping it like fruit. Wet cracks followed as it chewed, bone and brain matter vanishing into its gullet.
Terror rippled through the warband.
“Retreat—fall back to the ground!” the wiry old knight bellowed. He spurred his lizard downward, shouting at the warriors below. “Cover us, you cowards—shoot, now!”
Arrows glowed with magic as they loosed. Bolts of fire, ice, and wind streaked skyward. The old knight cracked his barbed whip, lashing at the beast even as it finished tearing apart its prey.
The griffon shrieked and dove again, weaving between the incoming attacks. Riders grouped tight, shields glowing with leben as they locked into a wall. Spears and swords thrust upward to meet the monster’s descent.
Its talons slammed against the barrier. A shield shattered, energy bursting apart under the force. One knight screamed as he was ripped from formation, armor screeching against claws.
Blood rained as the griffon soared upward again, another body writhing in its grasp. The men below struck at its retreating shadow, their spells lancing through the sky in vain. Fireballs burst against its armored hide, arrows splintered on its scales, but only shallow cuts marked its flesh.
The beast shrieked, its wings beating like thunder as it climbed higher, preparing for another dive.
“Fuckers! Make something big—treat this beast as a country-level threat!” the wiry old leader roared, scrambling down the steep mountainside. Sparks of leben crackled along his whip as he lashed out, the barbed length clashing against the griffon’s talon. The collision boomed, the force repelling his strike and driving him back.
Below, several mages gathered with hands raised, weaving a massive orb of power. The scattered warband reformed—shields locked, weapons braced—but the tension was palpable. Even the veterans carried fear in their eyes. Still, sheer numbers gave them hope—enough, they prayed, to hold the line.
“Quickly—before the damn criminals escape!” one ground warrior bellowed. “Fear the beast less than Lord Alexander’s wrath—and think of the rewards!” His face twisted with hunger as he spoke.
The mountain trembled under the creature’s shadow. Every arrow loosed, every spell cast, felt pitiful against the storm of claws, beak, and wings descending from above.
Just as the massive spell neared completion, the air shifted. A suffocating dread swept over them—instinct screaming danger. The seasoned veterans dove aside without thought. Some, still mounted, spurred their beasts and fled in panic.
A heartbeat later, light fell.
A lightning orb slammed into their midst, erupting in a storm of electricity and sparks. The mountain shook. Knights and mages shrieked as they and their mounts were consumed, ripped apart, or left twitching and stunned. The half-formed spell collapsed instantly, dissolving into screams and smoke.
The wiry old leader, still astride his lizard, looked down at the carnage below.
“Motherfuckers!” he roared, snapping his whip at the griffon again, sparks of leben crackling across its spiked length as he fought to keep the beast at bay.
But then—the chill.
It crawled up his spine. He twisted and leapt with every ounce of strength—just as a glowing spear of light, its drill-like tip shrieking with magic, slammed into the spot he had just vacated.
The spear tore through the giant lizard. Scales shattered, bones splintered, and blood erupted in torrents. With a deafening crack, the beast split nearly in half, its death-scream shaking the peaks. Warriors clinging to its back were shredded or hurled against the rocks, their armor clanging as they crashed broken to the ground.
Only a handful managed to leap free, crashing onto the slope. Their bodies flared with energy, burning leben to the limit as they followed their leader in desperate retreat—fleeing the slaughter raining down upon them. Above, the monstrous griffon dove again, its screech splitting the mountains as it devoured men whole.
“Uf.” Iryoku vaulted over the mountain peaks, descending in long arcs as he chased after Orn, who skimmed low along the ridges. With a sharp motion, he hurled his harpoon into a tree and yanked himself forward, swinging through the air before landing atop the canopy. The maneuver bought him precious distance from the death-tree warriors—and from the griffon’s rampage.
His eyes lit up when he spotted the armored carriage pulled by Rhogan. Alessandra sat at the driver’s seat. When their gazes met, she waved and broke into a wide smile. Iryoku returned the smile before landing atop the carriage, scanning the surroundings as Orn rose high above to watch from the sky.
He slipped inside and dropped onto the padded bench. Alessandra soon followed.
“Are you okay?”
“You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“Come, take a breather.”
Their voices rained over him as the girls surrounded him, checking his body for wounds, patting him—one hand even slipping lower to cup his manhood with shameless familiarity. He only grinned wider.
“Everything’s fine.”
Agnes opened her eyes, breaking her link with Orn. “That was a good idea, Iryoku. Taking that group head-on would’ve been impossible, even if we fought together.” She hesitated, then leaned closer, clearly tempted to join the others in touching him.
Suddenly her expression froze. The others noticed at once.
“Orn was just killed...” she said grimly.