Chapter 147: Gold Spawn

held back. That was him holding back.

The realization hit harder than the physical punishment. If casual correction could send him flying through trees, what would serious retaliation accomplish?

“Don’t you dare think of running again.”

The threat carried weight beyond words. Torrino had witnessed the destruction of creatures he didn’t dare approach, and observed power that redefined individual capability. His escape attempt had been naive desperation rather than calculated strategy.

Running from something like this? Might as well try to outrun a natural disaster.

“I… I understand,” he managed through split lips.

The captain remained on the ground, unwilling to test whether standing would be interpreted as renewed defiance. Blood continued seeping from various cuts while the handprint on his cheek darkened into impressive bruising.

Ethan studied his prisoner with detachment. The punishment had been precisely calibrated—enough damage to emphasize consequences, insufficient trauma to impair future utility.

“Excellent. Now we can continue our journey without further interruptions.”

The amphitheatre bore scars from their epic confrontation—melted stone, crystalline formations, scattered shadows that would never quite seem natural again.

…

Deep within the sprawling canopy city that served as Lord Vance’s territorial center, crystalline communication arrays flickered with dying light. Each crystal represented a life force connection to his deployed forces—magical tethers that allowed remote monitoring of his subjects’ vital signs.

Lord Vance stood before the primary scrying chamber, his Peak-Gold aura radiating controlled fury as he watched many crystals fade to lifeless black. Only one from the team he had sent remained active, its pulsing energy indicating survival under unknown circumstances.

’Harris’s team. Eliminated.’

The implications crashed through his tactical mind like falling stones. Harris and Elena had led his most experienced reconnaissance force—three Mid-Gold captains backed by twenty Peak-Silver specialists. Military assets that represented months of careful development.

’All dead except Torrino.’

His fingers traced patterns across the scrying interface, magical energies providing additional intelligence about the disaster. The crystals had died simultaneously except for one—a pattern that suggested systematic execution rather than combat casualties.

’One survivor. One informant.’

The mathematics were stark. Professional soldiers didn’t abandon wounded comrades unless faced with overwhelming force. Torrino’s survival meant cooperation rather than escape—intelligence being extracted under duress.

’He’s talking. Which means they’re coming.’

Captain Rodriguez entered the chamber with military precision, his High-Gold aura flickering with barely contained anxiety. “My Lord, the scrying crystals—”

“Have confirmed our worst tactical scenario,” Vance interrupted coldly. “Harris’s entire force eliminated. Torrino compromised.”

’Twenty-three trained soldiers. Gone.’

Rodriguez’s face went pale as professional assessment processed the implications. “Intelligence breach?”

“Assume total compromise. Torrino knows our defensive positions, patrol schedules, resource locations.” Vance’s voice carried arctic authority despite the strategic catastrophe. “Everything.”

’Including the Gold spawning point location.’

The territorial Lord’s mind raced through cascading consequences. Whoever had eliminated his reconnaissance force possessed capabilities that challenged them.

An unknown enemy, with an unknown number and capability. This is troublesome; all the teams I’ve sent have died.

“Immediate recall of all external forces,” he commanded with decisive authority. “Every patrol, every resource team, every specialized unit. Full territorial consolidation as soon as possible!”

Rodriguez nodded grimly. “Including the Gold spawning point garrison?”

“Everything. No exceptions.” Vance’s calculating mind weighed tactical options against strategic necessities. “We defend from strength rather than dispersed vulnerability.”

’Consolidation. Force multiplication through unified defense.’

The captain departed with no time wasted, his orders already flowing through magical communication networks that connected every corner of the territorial empire.

Unfortunately, communication networks were still primitive. Allowing communication over short distances. As for those who were far, they would need to be informed by a human messenger.

But doubt flickered through Vance’s thoughts as he contemplated the scale of recent losses. Harris’s team had represented elite capability—forces that should have handled most territorial threats through superior numbers and ambush.

’What kind of enemy eliminates elite forces like this so easily? And they appeared in the vicinity, they aren’t an old enemy.’

The scrying chamber’s ambient lighting cast shadows that seemed deeper than normal, as if darkness itself had gained substance within his stronghold. Paranoid imagination, perhaps, but survival often depended on taking imagination seriously.

’Recall everyone. Assess the threat. Plan accordingly.’

Across the territorial network, magical communication crystals blazed with urgent priority signals.

Captain Santos led the Gold spawning point garrison, his Mid-Gold capabilities commanding twenty specialists whose primary mission involved resource extraction and perimeter security.

A messenger soon arrived and told him about the recent command.

“All teams, immediate extraction,” he commanded without hesitation. “Priority Alpha recall. Leave nothing behind.”

His specialists moved with efficiency despite obvious disappointment at interrupted operations. The spawning ground produced valuable advancement materials—resources that territorial expansion depended upon.

But orders were orders, especially when delivered with territorial survival priority codes.

’Lord Vance doesn’t issue recalls lightly.’

Within hours, scattered forces began converging on the central stronghold. Patrol teams emerged from jungle depths while resource gatherers abandoned productive operations for defensive consolidation.

The territorial empire contracted like a closing fist, pulling scattered strength into unified defensive capability that could withstand whatever threat had eliminated Harris’s reconnaissance force.

’Eight hundred subjects within the stronghold. Concentrated power. Maximum defensive capability.’

What Lord Vance couldn’t know was that his strategic withdrawal had inadvertently saved the lives of forces that would have faced elimination. The enemy approaching his territory operated on individual power scales that rendered numerical superiority irrelevant.

The tactical retreat had preserved his forces…temporarily.

But consolidation also meant that when the inevitable confrontation occurred, it would be decisive rather than gradual. No scattered engagements or prolonged campaign—single battle that would determine territorial control permanently.

’All or nothing. The reality of total warfare.’

The communication crystals continued their urgent pulsing as Lord Vance’s empire prepared for siege warfare against an enemy whose capabilities remained largely theoretical. Professional military experience suggested overwhelming numbers could handle most individual threats.

Yet uncertainty gnawed at his confidence as evening approached. Harris’s elimination suggested enemy capabilities that challenged basic assumptions about power relationships and tactical mathematics.

’Unknown variables. Untested theories. The fog of war descending.’

’Tomorrow brings answers. One way or another.’

The territorial empire held its breath as scattered forces returned home, unaware that their recall had preserved them for one final, decisive confrontation.

…

Some time had passed and Ethan and Torrino made their way through increasingly dense jungle terrain. Ancient trees towered overhead while exotic sounds echoed from unseen creatures that inhabited the forest’s depths.

Torrino moved with the care of someone who understood that survival depended entirely on cooperation. His face still bore the vivid handprint from Ethan’s “light” disciplinary action, a constant reminder of the power disparity between them.

“It’s a kilometer west. We should be arriving soon,” Torrino said, his voice carrying none of the military confidence he’d possessed days earlier.

No point in hoping for rescue anymore.

The captain’s mind had undergone fundamental revision during their journey. Watching systematic destruction of creatures he deemed as apex predators had shattered his faith in organisational superiority. The man beside him operated on power scales that rendered numerical advantages irrelevant.

Even if the entire garrison was still there, they’d just be additional casualties.

Twenty Peak-Silver specialists against someone who killed a Dark Wraith? It wouldn’t even qualify as combat—just systematic execution.

The spawning point’s location became visible through thinning vegetation—a natural depression where geological forces had created perfect conditions for Gold-rank creature manifestation. Rock formations jutted from mineral-rich soil while energy patterns created visible distortions in the air.

But something was wrong.

The area stood completely deserted. No guard posts, no harvesting teams, no signs of recent occupation beyond scattered equipment that suggested hasty evacuation.

They’re gone. All of them.

Ethan’s enhanced senses swept the spawning ground with calculating assessment. The site showed clear evidence of systematic resource extraction—professional operations that had been abandoned rather than completed.

He turned toward Torrino with a predatory focus that made the captain’s blood run cold.

“It seems like the teams have already left. Didn’t you say there are people here farming usually?”

Here it comes. He thinks I lied to him.

Torrino nodded quickly, desperation creeping into his voice. “Yes, my Lord. Captain Santos commands twenty specialists who maintain constant operations here. They extract cores, monitor spawning patterns, defend against territorial intrusions.”

Please don’t kill me for intelligence that’s no longer accurate.

“I told you about them because I thought they would be here. I had no reason to hide their presence—you would have discovered them immediately upon arrival.”

Truth. Complete truth. No deception.

Ethan studied his prisoner’s expression with detachment, enhanced senses detecting emotional states that revealed genuine confusion rather than calculated misdirection.

“I see.”

He’s not lying. Something changed their operational status.

“I think they left because of an order from Lord Vance,” Torrino continued, his tactical mind providing the most logical explanation. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t abandon such valuable resource operations.”

Recall order. Strategic consolidation.

The implications crystallized in both their minds simultaneously. Lord Vance had withdrawn his scattered forces, probably in response to Harrison’s team failing to return. Professional military leaders didn’t abandon productive assets without serious cause.

He knows about the reconnaissance team’s elimination. Smart tactical response.

“Interesting,” Ethan mused, studying the abandoned spawning ground with renewed appreciation. “Your Lord demonstrates sound strategic thinking.”

Torrino felt a flicker of pride despite his circumstances. “Lord Vance has never lost a territorial campaign. His tactical expertise is… considerable.”

Why am I defending him? He’s probably written me off as acceptable losses.

But old loyalties died hard, even when circumstances had evolved beyond recognition. Military professionalism demanded respect for competent leadership regardless of personal situation.

“No doubt,” Ethan replied with genuine interest. “Which makes our eventual meeting more intriguing.”

The abandoned spawning ground stretched before them like a geological treasure vault. Gold-rank creatures would continue manifesting according to natural cycles, regardless of human presence or absence.

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