Back to the scavenger base…

The scavengers went about their usual activities.

Which was not much to begin with.

Just like their name suggested, they scavenged. They picked bones clean. They hunted when they had to, but most times they simply stole what others had worked for. Nearby settlements were their favorite targets. They would raid at night, rob them dry, burn down their homes, slaughter whoever resisted, and drag away the unlucky ones they decided were still useful.

The rest of the time?

They gambled.

They drank.

They fought for fun.

Their way of life was rough at best and rotten at worst. But none of them complained. They were proud of it. They were not like those so called civilized humans who believed laws and order made them superior.

They were descendants of the old Savagers. Barbarians. A broken tribe splintered into smaller clans after their ancient fall. The scavengers were just one branch of that bloodline.

Most of them knew nothing about their real history.

Only their Lord knew.

Only their Lord hoarded the old knowledge.

And to them, he was the strongest being to ever walk the earth. If he wished, they believed he could rule the entire world.

That was the kind of blind faith that rotted men from the inside.

While crude laughter and immoral acts echoed across the massive base, a shadow slipped from one dark corner to another.

Silent.

Cold.

Callck.

His face was sharp and still, eyes scanning every movement around him. He drew a slow breath, fingers tightening around the short blades at his sides.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

He moved toward a wooden hut near the edge of the base, close to the smaller quarters reserved for the Lord’s inner circle.

Inside, a couple was lost in their own filth. The sound of flesh slamming against flesh filled the air.

Callck did not blink.

He moved like a falling leaf.

His blade flashed.

The man froze mid motion.

For a heartbeat he did not understand what had happened. Then blood began pouring from the sword that had pierced straight through his skull.

The woman beneath him opened her mouth to scream.

A hand clamped around her throat.

Her eyes met Callck’s.

Cold.

Empty.

She struggled, clawed, kicked.

His blade moved again.

Her breath ended before the scream could form.

Callck released her body and let it drop.

He killed them for one simple reason.

He needed this place.

This hut would serve as the starting point for the next phase of his plan.

Dragging the corpses outside, he carried them to a nearby pit where refuse and bodies were already dumped. He burned their flesh until smoke curled into the night.

A few scavengers glanced at him strangely.

That was all.

No questions.

Callck was smeared in blood like the rest of them. To their eyes, he was just another savage disposing of slaves he had finished using.

One of them laughed. “You could’ve just tossed them on the corpse pile.”

Callck did not look at him.

“I want them to burn,” he replied flatly.

The scavenger grinned, teeth yellow in the firelight. “Cold heart. If I did not know better, I would have thought you were one of the top brass.”

Callck said nothing.

Inside his chest, something darker was forming.

He had already decided.

Once he found his wife. Once he freed the other slaves.

This entire place would burn.

Not a hut left standing.

Not a single savage spared.

He returned to the now empty hut.

Time was running.

The scavengers might act like animals, but they were still human enough to notice when neighbors disappeared. Suspicion would spread soon.

He needed to set everything in motion.

Fast.

Callck stood in the dim hut, blades at his sides, eyes colder than steel.

With that in mind, Callck moved.

No rushing. No reckless heroics.

He began observing.

Listening.

Counting.

He spent an entire day mapping the base in silence. Guard rotations. Patrol paths. Blind spots. Supply routes. Escape angles. He memorized it all, carving the layout into his mind like it was scripture.

When he was done, he finally found the perfect time to strike.

Midnight was when they were most active. The base sat in an open stretch of forest. Beasts could attack at any moment. Rival enemies could launch raids without warning. So at midnight, the scavengers were sharp. Alert. Ready.

But at dawn?

That was different.

By dawn, exhaustion crept in. Guards relaxed. Eyes grew heavy. Discipline thinned.

That would be his moment.

Callck stepped into the hut he had claimed as his own. His gaze swept over the weapons he had prepared.

Dozens of arrows stacked neatly in the corner.

A long sword.

Two short daggers.

A bow.

He ran his fingers lightly over the blade’s edge.

With preparation and timing, even a suicide mission could tilt in his favor.

At least… he hoped to survive.

With his wife.

Selene.

“Be safe,” he whispered under his breath. “Just a few more hours. I am coming.”

But Callck did not know.

He did not have a few hours.

Not really.

Not with what was coming.

Inside the large chamber reserved for the women from whom the Lord would choose his next concubines, Selene sat quietly beside a middle aged woman.

The air in the room was thick.

Heavy with perfume, fear, and silent desperation.

Selene had tried speaking with the others. She wanted to know what they felt. What they thought of their fate.

The answers were all different.

Some were afraid.

Afraid they would die.

Afraid they would become nothing more than toys for the scavenger Lord.

Some felt relief.

At least they would live. Maybe not free, maybe not whole, but alive. As long as they were useful, their lives would be spared. That was more certainty than they had before.

Others were far more calculating.

They planned to manipulate the Lord. To rise above the others. To become his favorite. His mistress. To trade dignity for power.

And then there were a few like Selene.

Women who hated the scavengers with every breath they took. Women who would rather burn the entire base down even if they died in the flames.

But out of all of them, only one had spoken differently.

When Selene approached her and asked what she thought, the woman had listened to the others first.

Then she said only a few words.

“You are all naive. And stupid.”

The way she said it.

Firm. Certain. Not angry. Not hysterical.

Certain.

Selene felt it instantly. There was something behind those words.

So she asked her why.

At first, the woman refused to speak. Her lips pressed thin. Her eyes distant.

But then she began.

And the more she spoke, the more Selene’s expression changed.

The concubines before them had felt all those same emotions. Fear. Relief. Ambition. Hatred.

None of it mattered.

Because none of them expected what truly awaited them.

“A fate worse than death,” the woman said quietly.

She described the Lord’s chamber.

The rituals.

The screams.

Endless screams.

Agonizing torment that echoed through the halls at night. Some women had begged for death. Some had lost their minds. A few had ended their own lives, whispering they could not endure it any longer.

Selene’s fingers tightened.

“What does he do to them?” she asked.

The woman shook her head slowly.

“I do not know.”

Her eyes were hollow.

“I was never chosen. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was a curse. I cannot tell.”

She swallowed.

“If I had been chosen back then, I would have ended up like them.”

Her voice dropped.

“They were taken. None ever returned.”

Silence swallowed the room.

“I am certain of one thing,” she continued. “If they are still alive… they are no longer human.”

The words settled like a blade against Selene’s throat.

To be continued.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep