Chapter 144: Planning Ahead

Kael watched from afar as the fight was happening and learned a few things of how Petrov operates.

The Snakes would try to land as many attacks as possible while the basilisk was wasting time going from one side to the other.

It created a rhythm. The basilisk chased attention, and the Snakes fed it just enough to keep it turning. Each turn exposed a flank. Each flank meant a spear could slide in. Kael hated how competent it looked. Competence meant Petrov would survive longer. Petrov surviving longer meant Petrov getting greedy later. With their ability to deal this much composed damage, they could easily fish for the final kill when the waters turn muddy.

“What do you think?” the boss asked Kael.

“They’re far more organized than us…” Kael replied without hesitation.

He didn’t say it as praise. He said it as fact. Facts were useful. Pride got people killed.

“That’s true, they have classes. We don’t have a proper tank, nor a proper dealer. You’ve been doing both jobs…” he said, he wasn’t trying to sound apologetic nor congratulatory.

Kael heard the implication anyway. You’ve been doing both jobs. Meaning he was expected to keep doing both jobs. Meaning the boss considered Kael a tool, not a teammate. Kael kept his expression flat because showing discomfort or disobedience would only invite a tighter leash.

“I’m only one guy,” Kael said.

“I know, but do you think we’ll lose?” the boss said.

“Nah,” Kael shook his head.

“Why?” The boss asked, surprised, aiming to understand how Kael was thinking.

“Arrows are a limited luxury. Notice how most of them break on contact,” Kael pointed.

Kael’s eyes were on the ground near the basilisk’s feet. Broken shafts. Split tips. Fragments scattered like dead insects. The scale didn’t just deflect. It punished. Every arrow that struck and snapped was a resource burned.

And it was true, whenever the arrows would land, two out of three would break.

Although the remaining arrow would be picked up and returned to the nearest archer, it would be in a bad condition of use.

Kael watched one Snake scramble forward, snatch an arrow that hadn’t fully shattered, then sprint it back like it was treasure. The shaft was bent. The fletching was torn. It would fly worse next time. It would break more easily. The triangle strategy was only as good as the quiver depth.

“Once they’re out of arrows, they’ll feel the taste of teeth.”

The boss smiled, “You have a good eye. But, they could have enough arrows, or maybe they could simply be showing us this to confuse us.”

“Wouldn’t change a thing, the boss is starting to breathe heavy. A couple more rounds and it’ll die. All that matters is who traps who first.” Kael said as he turned to the boss, “You do realize that you don’t need to kill the boss to be the victor.”

He watched the boss’s pupils tighten slightly. That line landed exactly where Kael intended. Winning wasn’t about being the one who landed the final strike. Winning was about walking out alive with whatever mattered. The Basilisk was a distraction. The real fight was what happened after.

“Now you’re speaking my language.” The Boss smiled.

After all, what’s the use of the reward if you die and lose it once you get ambushed.

A bit of time passed, and a couple of snakes made mistakes. Deadly ones.

The Basilisk learned their rhythm, too. It stopped turning as predictably. It began lunging faster. It punished hesitation. The cave filled with the sound of steel on stone, men shouting short warnings, and that constant wet scrape of tail and claw.

One of the archers was unable to shoot enough arrows to pull the aggro, so the basilisk managed to close its teeth on one of the three.

It was brutal. The basilisk closed the distance in two strides that shouldn’t have been possible for its size, jaws snapping wide. The archer tried to retreat, tried to climb a rock shelf, but the tail whipped and caught him mid-step. He vanished beneath a blur of scale and teeth. The scream lasted half a second, then cut off. All that remained was blood splatter and fangs dripping crimson.

The second mistake happened when another member stayed too long, attacking with a makeshift spear, he got crushed to bits by the basilisk’s foot.

Everyone watched the foot come down, and the body simply stopped being a body.

There was no dramatic gore spray, just impact and flattening, like stepping on something that was never meant to resist. The other Snakes recoiled, and their formation stuttered for a heartbeat.

But the overall damage was still worth mentioning.

The basilisk had far more wounds than when the Sun Clan fought. And was almost limping on one of its hind legs.

There were punctures between plates now, shallow but numerous. Scratches along the ribs where something sharp had found purchase. A line of blood along the jaw. The hind leg dragged a fraction, not enough to slow it completely, but enough to show it was being worn down.

Someone found the location where Kael had punched earlier. They stabbed and left a spear there. Whenever the boss would move, it would wince.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. They had noticed the cracked spot. They had exploited it. That meant Petrov’s side was learning quickly. That meant when the Sun Clan went in, the basilisk would already be primed for rage and pain. Good and bad. Pain meant weakness. Rage meant unpredictability.

“Get ready, our time will start soon.” The boss said, “And be careful of ranged attacks, only use close quarters from now on.”

The boss realized it; it was this turn or the next where either of the clans would try to take a hit and nerf the other clan. They couldn’t afford mistakes now.

Kael understood, too. A stray arrow meant a debuff. A debuff meant death later. The contract was a weapon, and everyone in this cave was already sharpening it.

“TIME!”

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