Chapter 83: Hunt Begins [2]

“Formation! Guard the wagons!” he barked, voice sharp and clear.

The twins moved first, dismounting in unison with heavy thuds, their large frames immediately shielding the rear wagon.

Mira slid from her saddle and dashed to the high ground on the side slope, bow already drawn.

Eren dismounted slower than the rest, eyes narrowed. He didn’t draw yet. He was listening.

And then it came.

The scream of steel—twang!

Arrows. Fast. Silent.

One buried into the wooden side of the second wagon. Another grazed Mira’s shoulder as she rolled behind a rock.

“Contact on both sides!” she yelled. “They’re flanking!”

Halven stepped in front of the lead horse and spotted movement up the ridge—figures in dark gray cloaks, blending into the snowy rock, descending fast.

“Mira, cover left! Fen, Rusk, back-to-back!”

His voice was like a war drum, steady in the storm.

And then chaos struck.

A large man barreled from the treeline—axe swinging—and crashed into Fen, knocking him off his feet.

Thud—!

“You!”

Rusk roared, grabbing the attacker by the throat and hurling him into a tree with a sickening crunch, but two more replaced him just as quickly.

Mira let arrows fly.

One, two, three—each one finding a target.

But it wasn’t enough. For every one that fell, two more emerged, masked in fur and darkness.

“Too many,” Mira hissed, scrambling back.

Lila tried to lock the wagon from inside, clutching a dagger with trembling hands.

Eren finally moved. Not with panic—but precision.

He drew his sword, a plain, blackened blade, and stepped in to intercept a rushing figure aiming for Mira.

SLASH——!!!!!!!

With one clean motion, he slashed the man across the chest and kicked him down the ridge.

Halven caught the sight.

“You can really fight.”

“I said I knew a few things,” Eren replied calmly, parrying another strike. “But there’s too many. This is no ordinary bandit raid.”

Halven’s face darkened. “I know.”

Suddenly—BOOM!

A flash of fire erupted from the right.

Someone had thrown a jar of alchemical fire, and the second wagon burst into flame.

Horses screamed, rearing back.

“Fall back!” Halven ordered. “To the rocks! Regroup!”

The group tried to pull back into tighter cover, but the ambushers pressed harder.

“Ughhhh!”

One of the twins—Rusk—let out a cry as he was pinned under two attackers. Halven rushed to help, cutting down one with a clean stroke.

And then it happened.

A massive shadow stepped into the fray.

Bjorn.

He was calm. Casual. As if he wasn’t in a battle, but a slaughterhouse.

He swung his cleaver once—shink!—and it went through Rusk’s collarbone like butter.

The twin dropped without a sound.

“No!” Fen charged, screaming, but Bjorn turned and caught the incoming strike with the flat of his blade, then elbowed the big man hard enough to send him flying.

Halven saw it—just barely—and lunged at Bjorn, blade aimed for the heart.

Bjorn turned, grabbed the sword mid-swing, and twisted. Bones cracked in Halven’s wrist.

The blade clattered to the ground.

Bjorn leaned in, his dull gray eyes studying Halven like a butcher inspecting livestock.

“Too much muscle,” he muttered. “You’ll be tough.”

He knocked Halven unconscious with the butt of his cleaver

FOOOSH—!!!

FOOOSH—!!!

FOOOSH—!!!

Mira fired again. And again.

Bjorn flinched slightly as an arrow struck his arm—but he didn’t stop.

He gestured—and his men rushed Mira.

She tried to fight back, switching to a knife, but they swarmed her. It took four of them to hold her down.

Eren looked around—saw all five of the others pinned or falling—and then froze.

He could try to run. He could try to vanish into the snow.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he raised his hands slowly, sword pointed down.

Bjorn turned to him. Bjorn stepped forward.

His boots crunched on the frost-hardened earth, each step unnaturally heavy—like a hammer falling in slow rhythm.

The air was thick with smoke and snow. Fires from the burning wagon licked the sky orange. Screams, the clashing of blades, and the wheezing of dying men filled the mountain pass.

Eren said nothing. His sword hung loosely in his hand, point grazing the frozen ground. His breath came out slow, controlled. His eyes, however, locked onto Bjorn.

A beat passed.

Two.

Then Bjorn lunged.

CRASHHH—!!!

The cleaver came down in a brutal arc, aimed to cleave Eren in two.

But Eren slid to the left, just barely dodging, snow kicking up in a white flurry as the cleaver buried into the ground, sending cracks through the icy soil.

Shhhhng!

Eren’s blade hissed up in a fast counter, aiming for Bjorn’s side. A clean strike—if it had landed.

Bjorn twisted. The edge scraped against a steel-plated pauldron hidden beneath fur. Sparks flew.

Skrrnnkkk!!!

WHUMPH!!!

Bjorn responded with a backhand—that hit like a warhammer. Eren flew back several feet, rolling across the snow, landing hard on one knee.

He spat blood. But stood.

“You’re fast,” Bjorn muttered, brow furrowing. “Most die in one hit.”

Eren adjusted his stance. No witty retort. No hero’s bravado.

Just silence. The kind that fills the space before a thunderstorm.

Bjorn charged again.

THUMP—THUMP—THUMP—!

Each step was an earthquake. His cleaver came in sideways this time, a wide, sweeping strike meant to decapitate.

CLAAANGGG!!!

Eren met it head-on. Sparks burst like fireworks. The sheer force pushed him back three paces—but he held firm.

CLANG—CLANG—SCRRAAK!!!

Strike after strike, the two clashed—cleaver versus sword. Speed versus brute power.

Eren ducked low, sidestepped, and stabbed—his blade plunging into Bjorn’s side.

THUKK!!!

But not deep enough.

Bjorn roared and grabbed Eren’s wrist. His grip was like iron. With a heave, he slammed Eren into the ground.

THWAMM!!!

The snow dented. Eren coughed, vision swimming.

Then—he moved.

WHSSH!

A dagger flashed from his boot. He stabbed upward.

“Ugh!”

Bjorn howled as the blade sank into his thigh.

Eren rolled, using the momentum to wrench free and regain his footing.

His sword—still in hand—swung upward—

SCHNKT!

This time it cut across Bjorn’s forearm, blood spilling in a hot spray.

“Enough,” Bjorn snarled.

He slammed his cleaver into the earth—BOOM!—and pulled something from his belt.

A vial.

Red.

It shimmered unnaturally, like magma trapped in glass.

“Bloodburn,” Mira gasped from behind the pile of bandits still holding her down.

Eren’s eyes narrowed. “You really brought that to a bandit raid?”

Bjorn crushed the vial in his hand.

CRACK—SSSSSSSSHHHHH!!!

Red steam erupted from his flesh. His eyes flared with madness. Veins bulged. Muscle swelled. His body twitched, trembling with unnatural strength.

And then he moved.

Faster than before.

CRASHHHH!!!

Eren barely blocked. The force sent him skidding back. His boots tore grooves in the snow.

He didn’t get a second to breathe.

Bjorn was already there—cleaver overhead—FWOOOOOM!!!

Eren dove to the side. The cleaver tore through a boulder where he had just stood, shattering it into chunks.

He had no time to strike. No time to counter.

He was being hunted.

Blow after blow, Bjorn came. Faster. Heavier. Sloppier—but overwhelming.

CLANG!

BANG!

CRRRRANG—!!!

Each time, Eren blocked by a hair’s breadth, but each time his arms screamed more. His guard was breaking.

And then—

SNAP!

Bjorn’s cleaver chopped straight through Eren’s sword.

Half the blade clattered to the snow.

Time seemed to pause.

Eren stared at the broken weapon.

Bjorn grinned.

And lunged again.

He appeared infront of him instantly, before Eren could do anything…

THWACK—!!!

…And punched him to his guts.

WHUMPH—!!!

Eren’s breath exploded from his lungs as Bjorn’s fist slammed into his gut like a battering ram.

His body folded, eyes wide, spit and blood flying from his mouth.

He stumbled back—one step, two—then dropped to his knees, hands trembling, struggling to breathe. The pain wasn’t just physical. It was soul-deep. Defeat.

Bjorn towered over him.

“Done?” the brute asked, almost amused, his voice warped and guttural from the Bloodburn.

Eren looked up—eyes still sharp, still defiant—but his body wouldn’t obey him anymore.

The broken hilt of his sword slipped from his fingers, landing with a muted thud in the snow.

Bjorn didn’t wait.

THUMP!

He kicked Eren in the chest—sending him crashing back, skidding across the snow and slamming into the side of the burning wagon. The heat seared the edge of his coat.

“Meal secured!” Bjorn muttered under his breath as he grinned.

Now he can satisfied his hunger. No more pigs or deer.

Then came the ropes.

Rough, biting cords yanked his arms behind his back. Two bandits pinned him down while another tightened the knots, not caring that his shoulders were already bruised and bloodied.

Mira was dragged next, her lip split, eyes fierce even as her hands were bound.

She caught Eren’s gaze.

“You idiot,” she muttered, blood on her teeth. “You should’ve run.”

Eren managed a half-smile, though it hurt to do even that.

“I don’t run.”

“You’re stupid,” she whispered. Her voice was shaking now. Not from fear. From anger. Or grief.

“Move!” a bandit barked, shoving her forward toward the center of the pass.

Fen was already on his knees, bruised and barely conscious. Halven was out cold, blood matting his hair. The remaining twin lay still. Too still.

The wagons were in ruin. The fire crackled behind them, smoke curling into the gray sky. The horses were gone—dead or scattered. The scent of blood and burnt wood clung to the air.

…. While all of this happening, one lone bat looked at scenery below with calm eyes and then it flew away

—

Author Note:

Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It’s my second novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep