Chapter 204: [Chapter - 204]
Somewhere far away from Auravale, across the Endless Forest in the Kingdom of Zarth.
In a flat piece of land somewhere in a battlefield, the Zarthian High Camp was bustling and brewing with tension.
The air around the camp smelled like a slaughterhouse that hadn't been cleaned in a century.
Huge tents made of sun-bleached hide and reinforced with human ribs stretched across the muddy valley.
The ground was a soup of filth, blood, and waste. Fires roared in deep pits, roasting unidentified chunks of meat that looked suspiciously like human limbs.
Everywhere, the sound of metal on stone filled the air as beastkin warriors sharpened their jagged blades.
They were preparing for their next war after killing off the rebel group who dared to reject the "polite" invitation of their WarChief Vorath.
So Ignorant...
And
So Dead...
In the center of the camp stood the Warchief's pavilion. It was a massive structure draped in the banners of fallen beastkin tribes that dared to resist him.
Inside, the heat was suffocating.
Warchief Vorath, a four-armed monster of a man-lion -beast with skin like scarred leather, was busy.
He didn't believe in wasted time.
Two human captives, their noble dresses reduced to rags, were currently serving as his "training" equipment.
One was on her knees, her face buried in the coarse fur of his crotch, her muffled whimpers lost to the rhythmic grunts of the beast.
The other was being held by his two upper arms, her feet dangling off the floor as he thrust into her with the force of a battering ram.
He wasn't gentle.
His upper hands gripped her hair, yanking her head back so hard her neck let out an audible pop. He growled, a low, predatory sound that vibrated through the captive's body.
He bit her shoulder, drawing blood, tasting her fear like a fine wine.
"Is that all?" Iron-Gorged roared, his voice like grinding stones. "A human noblewoman amounts to all this much?"
"They act all high and mighty only to end up and breaking like a twig?"
"God these human bitches are useless!"
He tossed the girl aside like a used rag. She hit the dirt floor, sobbing and trembling, her legs unable to hold her.
The other girl, gagging, tried to crawl away, but he stepped on her back, pinning her down with a heavy, clawed foot.
"Warchief!"
The flap of the tent opened. The Fox Beast scout, the one who had survived the forest and met the Devil Mask, stumbled in.
He was a pathetic sight. His left ear was a jagged stump, and his right hand was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages where the Leo and the Blackfangs have taken their revenge for how they gutted their friends and tied their intestines around their necks.
Compared to what Leo had in mind for them, the Fox Beast managed to escape pretty much unscathed.
He collapsed to his knees, his face pale and slick with sweat.
Vorath turned his massive head. He didn't bother covering himself. His rock-hard, veined cock stood in salute, still glistening with the fluids of the captives.
"You are late, you little runt," Vorath spat as he grabbed a jug and chugged down the grape wine in one gulp.
"Agghh!" Vorath slapped the jug on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "And you look like shit. Give me the report before I decide to finish my training on you."
The scout swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the broken girls on the floor.
"We... We failed My Lord... My Lord, I am sorry. We could not take over Auravale. We failed."
The Warchief's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
"We were in the forest... the ambush. It was a disaster," the scout stammered, "Belladonna... she's a traitor. We thought the Blackfangs..."
"Belladonna has become a bitch to that boy who has taken over the town. She fought against us. She killed our men."
Vorath let out a bark of laughter that sounded like the roar of a lion.
"A human boy? You tell me the BanditQueen of the Blackfangs is barking for a human? You hve lost more than an ear, scout. You've lost your mind."
"No! I saw it!" the scout cried, his voice pitching high with terror.
"The boy... he's a devil. A cunning, manipulative snake. He didn't even fight at first. He hid behind Belladonna and some other masked bitch."
"He let them do all the work."
He took a ragged breath.
"His men did all the hard work and just when things looked like they would end, he stepped out. He delivered a single blow, taking the glory while the girls did the bleeding."
The Warchief's upper right arm reached out and grabbed a stone goblet from a nearby table. He gripped it so hard the stone cracked.
"So the Blackfangs are his dogs now?"
"Yes, My Lord. They follow him like he's a God. And the Devil Mask... I met him in the tunnels. He's furious. He said the boy is an enemy of theirs as well. And he wants us to attack Auravale."
"He will help, but we will be the swords."
In the shadows of the pavilion, Elder Baez, the Goat-Kin, stood motionless.
His slit pupils constricted until they were mere pinpricks. The description of the boy... the way he manipulated the Blackfangs... it felt familiar.
'It can't be,' Baez thought, his old heart thudding against his ribs. 'That boy from the forest? The one I gave the token to? He was supposed to be a speck of dust in the gears of the world.'
But the scout's words were clear. The boy had survived. He had conquered.
Vorath stood up, his four arms flexing.
"If this human is a schemer, he's a dangerous one. He's taken our forest assets and turned them against us."
He looked at a sub-commander standing near the entrance—a wolf-kin who had been watching the report with a slightly bored, disinterested expression.
"You," Vorath rumbled. "What do you think?"
The sub-commander shrugged. "He's just a human, Warchief. Scheming only works until a blade meets the throat. We should just—"
He didn't finish.
Iron-Gorged's upper left hand moved like a blur. He grabbed the sub-commander by the top of his head. Before the wolf-kin could even gasp, the Warchief's lower right hand slammed into the bottom of his jaw.
CRACK.
The sound of the skull fracturing filled the tent. Iron-Gorged squeezed.
Gray brains and shards of white bone squirted between his fingers like overripe fruit. The sub-commander's body spasmed once and then went limp, his eyes rolling back into a bloody mess.
Vorath wiped the gore onto his thigh.
"I don't need opinions. I need results. All of you. Be useful for once and tell me how are we going to handle that Boy? Crush him or wait it out?"
He turned his gaze to Baez.
"Elder. You have been quiet. Do you want to share something with us?"
"My Lord!" Baez bowed his head, his hands trembling within his long sleeves, "I... I encountered a boy in the forest months ago, My Lord. A nobody? If it is the same one... then he is more than just a schemer."
"He is our target now," Iron-Gorged grunted, "Get out. All of you. Think of something useful for once."
Baez didn't need to be told twice. He retreated from the pavilion, the smell of the Warchief's lust and the sub-commander's death clinging to his fur.
He made his way to his private sanctuary—a smaller, incense-choked tent at the edge of the camp.
He collapsed into his carved wooden chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He reached for a bowl of water to wash his face, but his hand stopped.
A low-tier Goat-Beast messenger was waiting in the corner of the tent, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the ground.
"Elder... this arrived just now. A shadow-raven dropped it at the gate."
The messenger held out a black-sealed envelope.
Baez took it with shaking fingers. He broke the seal.
A heavy, obsidian token clattered out onto the table.
Baez froze. His eyes widened. He knew that token. He had given it to the boy as a bribe, a way to ensure the brat wouldn't cause trouble for the Zarthian plans. It was the Token of the Elder Path.
There was a small scrap of parchment inside. The handwriting was bold, messy, and entirely too confident.
"Found this in my pocket. Thought you might want it back before I come to collect your head. - Leo."
Baez's legs gave out. He slumped into his chair, the obsidian token feeling like a mountain in his palm.
Leo wasn't just surviving. He was hunting.
And Baez was next on the list.
The Elder looked out the tent flap toward the distant horizon where Auravale lay. For the first time in sixty years, the old goat felt like the prey.
Somewhere in Auravale in a castle.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Quest Update: The Elder's Omens]
[Status: Target Identified. The Zarthian High Camp is on High Alert.]
[Reward for Completion: EXP: 29000, 8000 Gold Coins, 1 Legendary Soul replenishing pill]]