It’s good that we had built both residential buildings.

The timing couldn’t have been better. Twenty-five subjects would have strained a single structure beyond reasonable comfort levels. Two buildings provided adequate space while maintaining the morale benefits of proper shelter.

Ramsay, their chef, took immediate advantage of the expanded population. More mouths meant more opportunities to showcase his culinary talents, while the increased workforce provided additional hands for food preparation.

“Fresh scorpion stew tonight!” he announced cheerfully.

The mages clustered around Lyra.

Roland organized his tanks into a defensive unit that could coordinate with the existing archers and warriors. Shield walls backed by ranged support created possibilities for holding defensive positions against superior numbers.

As evening approached, the expanded population settled into the residential buildings. Conversations echoed across the territory—planning discussions, tactical debates, and the simple social interactions that built unit cohesion.

Vincent remained where Ethan had left him, the limbless torso propped against supply crates in deliberate isolation. His presence served as a constant reminder of what awaited them if they failed to prepare adequately.

Fourteen hours until herb harvest. Sixteen hours until enemy investigation begins.

The next day arrived with the sun’s golden ascent over desert dunes, painting the territory in warm light that promised both opportunity and danger.

His subjects had implemented the new rotation system overnight. After careful consideration, they’d abandoned the exhausting four-hour shifts in favour of eight-hour rotations between two balanced teams. The extended periods allowed for proper rest while maintaining constant vigilance.

It was a smart adaptation. After they had told Ethan, he had agreed without hesitation.

The timing aligned perfectly with monster spawning patterns. Teams could rest during inactive periods while maintaining full alertness when threats emerged from their respective spawn points.

Ethan rose from his quarters in the Town Hall, mind already calculating the day’s critical timelines.

Seven hours until herb harvest. Sixteen hours until enemy investigation began—theoretically.

But theory means nothing when survival is at stake.

Reality had a tendency to accelerate timelines and complicate plans. Vincent’s organization might dispatch early investigation teams, or their Lord might grow impatient with delayed reports.

Counting on sixteen hours of safety was naive optimism.

Time for some more proactive measures.

A decision had been made in his mind—one that balanced calculated risk with necessity. Instead of waiting for enemies to come to him, he would venture into their territory. The jungle held possibilities that defensive preparations couldn’t match.

A wise man had once said, Offence is the ultimate defence.

In that jungle, he might stumble upon golden-rank beasts for golden cores.

Rare herbs that he could devour to increase rarity and use for more attribute gain or farming. Maybe spawn points that host stronger monsters for better resource farming.

Perhaps even beasts with talents that would improve his current ones, such as fire, wind and so on. The jungle’s depths promised advancement opportunities that could tip the balance from certain defeat to victory.

And if I eliminate their scouts in their own territory…

The psychological impact would be devastating. Their organization would assume nearby enemies were infiltrating their domain, focusing defensive attention inward while his territory continued growing stronger.

Misdirection through violent action.

Ethan strode toward the supply area where Vincent remained propped against material crates. The limbless torso had survived the night, his Gold-rank constitution preventing his death despite horrific injuries.

Time for our final conversation.

He grabbed Vincent by the hair, lifting the broken man’s head to eye level.

“You’re coming with me.”

Vincent’s eyes showed defiant hatred despite his helpless condition.

“Go to hell.”

Oh? He is still fighting. Admirable but pointless.

“Give me directions to your base. Monster locations. Territorial boundaries. Everything you know about jungle navigation.”

Vincent’s laugh was bitter, edged with the madness of a man who’d accepted his fate.

“I’m already dead. You think threats matter now?”

Interesting development. He had been so obedient the day before, I guess he had come to the reality of his death.

The broken predator had found something approaching courage in his final hours. No longer the arrogant hunter who’d tried to claim Ethan’s territory, but a man facing inevitable death with defiance.

“Kill me or don’t,” Vincent continued, his voice gaining strength. “I won’t help you murder my people.”

People? These slavers are his people?

“Your organisation enslaves entire territories. They’re criminals, not people.”

“They’re my brothers!”

Vincent spat, blood flecking his dry lips.

“We built something together. I won’t betray that for a coward who hides behind barriers.”

Loyalty to other predators. How touching.

Ethan studied the man’s expression, noting the genuine emotion beneath the defiance. Vincent actually believed in his organization’s cause, twisted as it was.

True believers are always the most dangerous enemies.

“Last chance. Information, or—”

“Or what?” Vincent interrupted. “You’ll kill me? I’m already dying slowly. At least this way I die with honour.”

Honor. From a man who planned to rape my subjects. What a laughable guy, it seems like he has lost his mind.

The irony was staggering. A predator who’d threatened Elena with sexual slavery now claimed moral high ground through loyalty to fellow criminals.

Enough of this.

Ethan raised his hand, fire talent igniting around his fingers. “If you won’t help, you’re useless.”

Vincent met his gaze without flinching. “Do it.”

Finally showing some backbone. Well, it’s too late to matter.

Flames engulfed Vincent’s body, his fire magic consuming flesh and bone with no mercy. The man’s screams lasted only a few minutes before the inferno reduced him to ash that scattered on the morning breeze.

It seems like I need to explore the jungle myself.

The pile of grey dust that had been Vincent offered no final revelations or useful intelligence. His defiant choice had eliminated the possibility of guided navigation through enemy territory.

Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve survived worse odds with less information. I’m already happy with the current information I have.

Ethan turned toward his subjects, who were organising morning duties. Their confidence had grown substantially since the successful territory upgrades and new defensive capabilities.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep