Chapter 180: Claiming Stuff
A soldier’s sword clashed against the beast leader’s sabre. The impact rang like a drumbeat, followed by a wet crack — the soldier’s arm was nearly ripped clean off. The officer roared, striking frantically, his blade sinking deep into a creature’s shoulder. Black blood gushed out, thick and metallic.
And it only made it angrier.
Dylan’s gaze slid back to the crate. It was now half-exposed, the tarp shredded to ribbons. Inside... that silver gleam again, pulsing faintly, like the moon trapped within stone.
"An anima gem... No doubt about it."
The large beast had seen it too. Its snout turned slowly, baring its teeth in a distorted grin. It barked — a sound halfway between laughter and a command — and two of its minions lunged toward the wagon.
"If they take the crate, I’m done for. They’ll rip everything apart, and I’ll be stuck between them and the soldiers. I need to move, now."
He crawled forward, using the chaos as cover. A soldier collapsed nearby, his throat torn open like a burst water pouch. Dylan looked away, simply wrenching the sword from the corpse’s hands, letting the useless hatchet drop. The blade was nicked, slippery with blood, but it was better than nothing.
A shadow loomed over him.
He spun on instinct, sword half-raised. One of the smaller beasts had spotted him. Its yellow eyes burned like embers, its jaws snapping with hunger. It swung a rusty axe toward his skull.
Dylan ducked. The axe slammed into the wagon’s side with a dull thud. He flung a handful of mud into the beast’s face, then stabbed forward — no technique, just desperate force. The sword’s tip scraped its collarbone, but it was enough to make it retreat.
"HEY!" The captain’s voice cracked behind him. "You, the laborer! With me!"
Dylan froze. The officer thought he was one of them. Perfect. He rushed toward him, sword trembling in his hand, faking the panic of a poor bastard forced to fight. Together, they braced just in time to block another beast’s charge.