Chapter 68: Rambo / Viktor

Spells streaked through the air like tiny comets, combining with bursts of light as weapons clashed. Cries and shouts of pain echoed across the forest, mixed with the hiss and crack of aether energy.

Kate and Eric’s team had caught a squad of Urhara hunters by surprise by using Earth-born tactics refined on the battlefields of Terraxum. With a collection of old school feints, traps, and coordinated maneuvers only Earth-trained soldiers seemed to understand, they tore through their opponents with ruthless efficiency. Soldiers fell, each knocked out or disarmed. The Worldstriders moved like shadows in the trees.

Within seconds, the fighting was over.

The remaining Urhara soldiers were stripped of armor and uniforms, their gear added to the growing pile of scavenged resources. Myrae moved quickly in examining each item for tracking glyphs or magical seals, destroying any that might betray them. With practiced hands, she cleaned the area of signs of battle such as the broken branches, scorch marks from spells, and scuffed dirt; all were erased.

The forest around them fell silent again, the cacophony of battle replaced by the low hum of adrenaline.

“How are we looking?” Eric asked, wiping sweat from his brow, as Kate settled against the wall of the cave to catch her breath.

“We should have enough now,” she replied. They looked over the pile of salvaged armor and uniforms. “At least for everyone but Tom-Tom. There doesn’t seem to be any Urhara Kobolds around, thankfully.” And it truly was a blessing, having an enemy with Tom-Tom’s keen nose would be troublesome.

Eric nodded, a grim satisfaction in his expression. He motioned Kate over to the rough map he had drawn along the cave wall. Lines crisscrossed the mountainside, marking the dungeon gate, the village, and the floating ship that had captured Alex and the others. Circles, arrows, and careful observation had left their marks on the map, forming a web of connections that told a story of movement and strategy.

“This,” Eric said, pointing to the network of lines, “is what we’ve got for an entry plan. I think we finally have something that works.”

Kate crouched beside him, tracing the lines with her finger. “It’s risky,” she said. “But it might just get us on that ship without alerting the others. If we move fast, we can avoid the other patrols.”

“Exactly,” Eric interrupted. “Fast, and coordinated is the only way. We’ve got the gear, and we’ve got the element of surprise. If we do this right, we can get our friends back without a full-scale war breaking out.”

Myrae glanced at them from across the cave, her hands still lightly glowing from cleaning the last of the magical trackers off the collected items. “And we have to move tonight. Every hour we wait, the Urhara are likely reinforcing their patrols, or planning on moving the others further away. We don’t get a second chance here.”

The team shared quiet, determined looks, each understanding the stakes. Outside the cave, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the distant thrum of the Andreia’s engines and the faint crackle of residual aether from Alex’s Heaven Tribulation.

Everyone leaned in now, peering at Eric’s hastily drawn wall-map.

Kate rubbed a hand over her face, still catching her breath, then leaned closer to Eric. “This is a hell of a long shot, but I agree, its what we have to do. We have to at least try. But the moment we get recognized, we will be on a frantic countdown timer towards failure.”

“Exactly. That’s why we needed this gear. We can blend in, and hopefully avoid drawing too much attention until we reach the brig of the ship.” Eric said.

Garret paced behind them with Tom-Tom clinging nervously to his shoulders. He stopped his nervous movements and let out a low whistle. “You really think we can pull this off? That ship’s huge, its gotta have like four levels to it… it’s like some damn moving fortress.”

Myrae shook her head. “We don’t have a choice. Every second we wait, the chances of our friends getting hurt—or worse—increase. We move today, then? Under the cover of disguise, and a little chaos?”

“And what about the rest of their soldiers? Karsali and the others? If they’re on alert, it won’t be easy.” Allie asked.

Kate smirked, a flicker of that old battlefield confidence lighting her eyes. “Easy isn’t part of our vocabulary, is it? We’ve fought against worse odds before. We will adapt, improvise, and win, or at least we survive long enough to make their lives suck.”

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Eric traced his finger along the map. “Here’s the plan everyone. If we move through the forest paths here,” he said, pointing to a scratchy line winding through the trees, “we can reach the landing point of the ship’s lower decks. From there, we have a small chance to get inside undetected. If they have sentry guards, we go with the planned ploy with the ‘captured prisoners’. If there is none, we just take the small boat. Either way, once inside, we take the task of sweeping the inside. Kate, myself, and Selka will handle threats. Myrae, Allie, Lance, Garret, and Tom-Tom, provide cover and support. Timing will be critical.”

Kate nodded before turning to face everyone. “We know the risks. Everyone stay alert, everyone watch each others backs. We don’t want anyone trying for heroics, this isn’t time to be showing off. We are getting our people back.”

Garret smirked, “Well, if we do screw up, at least the story will be legendary.”

A brief laugh passed among the group, the tension easing just a fraction. Then silence fell again as each considered the stakes.

“It’s settled then. In a couple hours, at dusk, we will move in. Everyone, ready your gear, and keep your senses sharp. This isn’t Terraxum’s basic military training. This isn’t a practice run. Follow the plan, and we don’t fail.”

Kate’s gaze was fierce as she peered at the group. “Let’s make sure they regret ever taking our friends.”

They all nodded back, a spark of determination burned in their hearts.

***

The forest path was damp beneath Viktor’s boots, mud clinging with each step. A jade-snout boar lay butchered across his shoulders, its greenish tusks still faintly gleaming in the dying light of the setting sun.

It had been a long day. The mountains had felt strange the last two dawns, with beasts vanishing from their usual grounds, their trails cut short as if they’d simply fled without reason. He thought the Empire ship, perched higher up the slopes, was surely to blame. The Urhara always disturbed the balance when they came, pushing themselves into places they had no right to be.

Still, a kill was a kill, and jade-snout meat would make the elders meet him with the approval he deserved. For the first time all week, Viktor could imagine children laughing when he returned, neighbors praising his luck.

The village was close. He could hear faint voices of the townsfolk not far off. But something… was wrong.

What he heard was not the usual cheerful chatter of a day winding down, nor the rhythm of merchants closing stalls or mothers calling their children inside. This sound carried panic, the voices warbly and frantic. Viktor slowed, slipping off the road and pressing through the brush. His gut told him what his mind refused to admit.

Empire soldiers… again.

He pushed aside leaves, his heart thudding as the town’s rooftops came into view.

The Urhara loved to throw weight around in small villages like his. They didn’t need to, as the nearby dungeon was theirs by decree, the mountain land theirs by law. But that never stopped them from stomping through homes, demanding supplies, or insulting elders. They were always barking orders at guards to the point everyone clenched their jaws in silence and stared into the dirt in submission, humiliated.

Viktor spat into the dirt. Bastards all of them

. He’d heard enough stories and seen enough of their cruelty to sour his blood for a lifetime.

He stepped from the trees—then froze.

The villagers weren’t scowling, weren’t standing defiantly in the square. Nor were they kneeling or submitting to the Empire dogs. They were running and screaming. Jostling past each other in blind terror, spilling baskets of gathered fruits and tearing clothes in the scramble. Viktor’s jaw slackened at the sight. The boar slid from his shoulders, thudding into the mud, utterly forgotten.

He could see that blood had smeared the side of Maren’s house, fresh enough to still be glistening and wet. Crimson beads still dripped from the painted wood. Viktor’s stomach twisted as his eyes followed the red trail across the street.

Bodies. Gods above, the bodies.

Neighbors he’d known since boyhood. Jorik the smith, his limbs were scattered like firewood. Anri the baker, her torso split from her legs. Pieces of people, strewn across the dirt road in a grotesque parody of play. The stench hit him then, hot iron and gut rot mixing with wood smoke.

His thoughts stumbled. Why? Why would the Empire—?

A shadow shifted around him.

From Maren’s doorway, something stepped into the fading light. Viktor staggered back as it came into view.

It walked upright, but nothing about it was human. Segmented plates glistened wetly across its body, each black as obsidian. Hexagonal eyes bulged from its head, glassy and unblinking, while mandibles clicked and dripped with gore on its face. Its legs bent backward like a wolf’s, ending in clawed feet that dug furrows into the floor. From its back, wings unfurled in a horror caught between bat leather and bird feathers. Its hands curled into talons, long and sickled like an anteater’s, slick with blood. And curling up from its skull grotesquely, were horns, goatlike and spiraled.

Viktor’s breath caught. His mind couldn’t place what he was seeing. Arcane Beast? Dragonkin? Mage under an augmentation spell? Some spellborn mistake? It didn’t matter which it was. Every nerve in his body screamed the same truth: predator.

He drew steel with trembling hands, sword in one, dagger in the other. A chant tumbled from his lips, shaky with his spiking fear but still audible, as his core stirred to push aether through his body.

The creature’s mandibles clicked. The sound was a chittering noise rose like laughter.

Viktor released his spell. Water gathered into a narrowly compressed bolt and launched forward with a thump. It struck true, slamming into the creature’s chest. But the splash sprayed harmlessly across its shell. Droplets ran down its carapace, glimmering faintly in the last sunlight.

The creature tilted its head, then it spoke words that were rattling and thick, yet unmistakably clear. “Tickles. Funny human… let’s play.”

Viktor’s blood ran cold. It spoke?

Then the wind shifted—no, not wind. A claw blurred toward him, carving the air with the shriek of speed. Cold rushed across his face and down into his bones.

And then there was nothing.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep