Chapter 369: Flesh golems
"Give us back the parchment!" one cultist bellowed, charging at Cassian with a massive axe. Cassian was already fending off nearly a dozen others, dodging and deflecting their attacks with precision. His body, bloodied from the onslaught, bore countless marks, but his domain’s red glow pulsed, knitting his wounds closed.
The fight was grueling—thirty or so cultists, all wielding enchanted gear and armor, made killing them a slog. A couple would’ve been manageable, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed him. He’d only taken down three at the start, using the element of surprise. Now, he could barely do more than dodge, trying to avoid injuries that would slow his healing or movement.
His pain immunity kept him moving freely, unhindered by agony, but a deeper worry gnawed at him. Why hadn’t Kalso arrived with backup? Cassian had explicitly asked for help. Was Kalso a traitor, playing it off with that nonchalant attitude earlier? Cassian cursed himself for not retreating when he’d noticed Kalso’s indifference, driven instead by his greed to complete the system tasks.
Cassian was in a bind now, but the battle’s clamor should’ve been loud enough for someone to hear, even from a distance. As he weighed his options, a glowing orb hurtled toward his head. Instinctively, he slashed at it—a mistake. The impact sent a brutal recoil through his sword, flinging it back as a blinding flash erupted. The next moment, Cassian was blasted into a tree, the force knocking several nearby cultists into each other as well. Head spinning, vision blurred and shaky, he struggled to stand, instinct screaming he was still in danger. "Where’s my sword?" he muttered, scanning the ground. His hands were mangled—fingers blown apart, armor shattered, upper skin charred but healing rapidly thanks to his domain. Confusion gripped him: the orb looked like a fireball, but his domain should’ve sliced it cleanly. Fireballs don’t explode like that.
Stumbling, searching for his sword as the ground seemed to sway, Cassian feared they’d lob another orb. If they did, he’d have no choice but to unleash his war armor—a risky move with too many eyes around, including soldiers from his own side just a short distance away. That would paint an even bigger target on his back, worse than the one he already carried.
Frantic, Cassian searched for his weapon as the noise of footsteps and shouts filled the air. His eyes caught the glint of his sword’s green blade, and he lunged for it, expecting an attack any moment. To his luck, none came until the blade was back in his hand. As he gripped it, he felt something brush his shoulder. Spinning, he struck at whoever was behind him, but his sword met something unyielding, frozen in place, not budging an inch. A calm voice cut through, "Easy, young man, you’re fine now..."
Confusion clouded Cassian’s mind, his vision still tinged red from the earlier flash, his eyelids burning as they healed along with his bleeding wounds. As his sight cleared, he saw a purple-haired man with wrinkled lines near matching violet eyes. Middle-aged at a glance, his clean-shaven face and smooth, porcelain skin made him seem younger, though Cassian knew he was far older. This was none other than Naset Lawk, commander of Magesteria’s troops sent to aid Karmen City, a Seventh Circle Warrior. "Commander?" Cassian rasped, stunned.
Cassian’s eyes widened with surprise, realizing Naset must have heard the blast that had scorched and thrown him. Relaxing slightly, he glanced around and saw the cultists frozen in place, their horrified expressions locked as if time itself had stopped. Cassian didn’t know how Naset had done it, but he was grateful—those cultists were clutching more of the glowing orbs that had nearly killed him. Loosening his grip on his sword, he let it lower as Naset released his hold. "I apologize, Commander," Cassian said, voice rough. "Thought you were the enemy."
"No worries, Cassian, right?" Naset replied with a calm smile, surveying the scattered corpses Cassian had left in his wake. His gaze shifted to the dark depths of the forest, and as Cassian nodded, the older Seventh Circle Warrior continued, "I figured you’d be captured or dead by now. Didn’t think you’d nearly take down hundreds of them, including a mage far stronger than you..."
"You knew the attack was coming?" Cassian asked, his voice thick with shock. He’d assumed Kalso hadn’t warned the others, but Naset nodded, stepping over the mage’s corpse. His eyes flicked to Cassian’s rapidly healing wounds with a look of surprise that Cassian didn’t miss. "Yes, your friend told us," Naset said. "We didn’t come sooner because we thought you were captured or dead, like I said. Didn’t want the cultists to know we were onto their attack. But judging by their numbers, you didn’t need us—you nearly wiped them all out on your own."
Cassian’s jaw tightened, a spark of anger flaring. Even if he’d been caught, didn’t he deserve a rescue? "What if they’d tortured me to spill who else knew about the attack?" he demanded, his tone sharp.