The Vastness of Magical Destiny

Wu Gul looked dejectedly at his allies, once fierce warriors, who had now become like homeless dogs, skittish and unable to find peace. He couldn’t believe he was in league with such men and had once harbored ambitions of conquering the Caron Capo and Sanya Tribes.

Wu Gul had always looked down on the Carter Tribe’s Gulupu for his indecisiveness, but now he realized that Gulupu’s shrewdness and subtlety far surpassed his own decisiveness and acuity, especially when it came to betting. His greatest mistake was placing his hope in the fools of the Sanwa Tribe. If he could muster the courage, Wu Gul believed that abandoning the vassal tribes’ armies and swiftly counterattacking would likely overwhelm Carter’s forces, even with the help of those Mortal Dark wizards.

But seeing the chaos before him, Wu Gul knew it was just a daydream. Expecting to rally these demoralized fools into a cohesive force was impossible; they were only thinking about how to preserve their tribe’s power. Any notion of engaging in another fight, especially a desperate last stand, was unrealistic. They had completely lost their will to fight.

Wu Gul believed that at this very moment, Komer was sitting in his Castle, watching all this with a look of contempt and pity. The Mountain people’s tendency for discord was blatant now, and the internal strife, compounded by Carter’s stab in the back, filled Wu Gul with shame. He wondered how he had been so foolish to assume Komer wouldn’t be concerned with the conflict. How could he have thought such a cunning and deceitful person would pass up such an opportunity?

It was too late for regrets now. The most pressing issue was how to prevent tens of thousands from the Carlo Tribe from becoming slaves to the Caron and Capo Tribes. Wu Gul knew this all too well. Mountain people’s internal enmity spawned true nightmares, far worse than Mortal enslavement. Considering how the Carlo Tribe treated the smaller tribes, the thought of the Carlo Tribe suffering the same fate made Wu Gul shudder.

If that were to happen, he would be the villain of the Carlo Tribe, and even being nailed to the Tribe Altar’s wooden post wouldn’t expiate his sin. Wu Gul couldn’t allow this situation to occur, even if it meant selling his soul to the Demon.

But what could he do now to prevent such a tragic fate?

"What did you say?" Ilot could hardly believe his ears.

"The envoy of the Carlo Tribe’s Chief Wu Gul is waiting in the secret chamber for your audience."