Chapter 270: Escape (5)

The camp was no longer a camp. It had turned into a battlefield of fire and panic.

Captains rushed out from different directions, their expressions dark as they took in the spreading chaos. Orders were shouted over one another, voices overlapping in confusion.

Zerath stood near the center, his cloak fluttering as hot wind rushed past him. His eyes scanned the burning tents, his jaw clenched tight.

“Control the fire!” one captain roared. “Water-element users—move now!”

Several demons with water affinity rushed forward, chanting hurried spells. Waves of water crashed against the flames, hissing loudly as steam rose into the air. Some fires weakened, but others refused to die, fed by fuel-soaked fabric and dry wood.

Just then, a booming sound came.

BOOM.

A sudden explosion thundered from one side of the camp. Everyone froze for a split second.

Zerath’s head snapped toward the sound.

The large control-system tent. The one used for monitoring and command, erupted in flames. Fire burst outward from its entrance, swallowing nearby equipment and spreading rapidly to surrounding tents.

“What?!” a captain shouted. “That tent—?!”

More demons rushed toward it, desperately throwing water, trying to save whatever they could. But it was already too late. The flames were too strong.

“This isn’t an accident,” another captain growled. “Search the area! Now! If there’s an enemy, find them!”

Groups of demons immediately broke off, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the shadows around the camp and the forest edge.

And then. Something cut through the air. A dark shape flew overhead.

Then another. And another. No one saw them coming. They flew through the air and landed across several tents that were not yet on fire.

They were round-shaped, like metal spheres.

For half a second, there was silence. They just lay there on the tents. But they were not silent for much longer.

Then.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

Explosions ripped through the camp one after another. Tents were torn apart, poles snapping, fabric flying as fire erupted violently. Shockwaves knocked demons off their feet.

“Grenades!” someone screamed. “It’s an attack!”

Panic exploded along with the blasts.

More demons shouted. Some ran to help the wounded. Others looked wildly around, trying to locate the attacker.

Zerath stood still for a moment, eyes wide.

Then his gaze shifted. Toward the edge of the camp. Toward a familiar place.

The prisoners’ tent. The place where he had put Amon and the others. Where he had tortured them for his enjoyment.

His face twisted as a thought crossed his mind.

“No…” he muttered.

Zerath dashed forward, flames and smoke parting as he charged through the chaos. He ignored the heat, ignored the shouts behind him. The tent was already burning when he reached it.

Without hesitation, he ran inside.

Fire licked at the fabric above. The heat was intense, but Zerath forced his way through. Inside, the sight made his blood boil.

Two bodies lay on the ground, already burning. Still, he could guess whose bodies they were.

A tall man. And a woman.

His eyes went toward the cage. Heated by the fire, two of its bars were bent, creating enough space for someone to crawl out.

Both bodies were outside the cage.

Zerath’s eyes narrowed as he took it all in. He could see two bodies. But one was missing.

The inside of the tent was hot, burning, yet he remained standing there.

“…So you escaped,” he said coldly.

He didn’t need to think hard to understand.

The young man. The one he had tortured. The one who should not have been able to move. Let alone fight back.

He had escaped.

And he had come back with revenge.

He couldn’t believe how that boy had managed to break anti-magic handcuffs and do all this without any fear.

Another explosion thundered outside the tent, shaking the ground. Firelight flickered wildly across Zerath’s face as his expression twisted into something dark and furious.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips.

“Heh…” he laughed softly. “So you’re not broken after all.”

He turned toward the tent entrance as smoke poured in.

“This just got interesting.”

Outside, the camp continued to burn, explosions echoing through the night as demons scrambled in chaos.

While somewhere beyond the fire and smoke, the one they thought was helpless had already slipped away.

Zerath went behind the tent. From there, a path led into the forest. The trees were burning in a very strange pattern. They burned straight and deep into the forest, as if forming a path.

Zerath kept staring in that direction.

Then he saw a silhouette there.

Zerath looked back at the burning camp and the yelling of demon soldiers.

Then he stared back at the burning forest. The fire was even spreading slowly from one tree to another.

Then he smiled. “I will kill you, bastard!” he declared as he rushed toward the forest.

Zerath stepped into the burning forest without hesitation.

Flames crawled up tree trunks on both sides of the narrow path, their light twisting the shadows into monstrous shapes.

The air was thick with smoke, ash drifting down like black snow. Every breath burned his lungs, yet his steps never slowed.

“So you ran this way…” Zerath muttered, eyes scanning the ground.

The fire pattern was strange. Too straight. Too deliberate.

“A path,” he said with a low laugh. “You even prepared your escape route.”

He reached into his storage ring, and with a brief flash of light, his weapon appeared in his hand.

A long sword.

Dark metal, engraved with crimson runes that faintly glowed under the firelight. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a heavy pressure spread through the forest. His killing intent was no longer restrained.

“Come out,” Zerath said loudly, his voice echoing between the burning trees. “You think fire and tricks are enough to escape me?”

Only the crackling of flames answered him.

He walked deeper.

Branches collapsed as fire weakened them. Burning leaves fell around him, but Zerath sliced them aside casually, his blade leaving trails of distorted air.

His eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong. The forest suddenly felt… quiet. He must be near. Zerath thought so.

It was too quiet, despite the crackling sounds of trees burning down.

Then suddenly, something moved.

The shadow beneath Zerath’s feet shifted unnaturally, trying to clutch his feet.

His instincts screamed.

He twisted his body sideways at the last moment, narrowly escaping as shadowy hands emerged from the ground.

A black sphere of compressed darkness shot out from between the trees, tearing through the air with terrifying speed.

BOOM!

The sphere exploded against a tree trunk just behind him, swallowing it in darkness for a brief moment before the wood shattered violently. Blackened fragments flew everywhere.

Zerath slid back several steps, boots carving lines into the scorched ground. He raised his sword instinctively, eyes wide with surprise.

“…A magic spell, hah?”

He stared at the destruction, then slowly lifted his gaze toward the direction the attack had come from.

Between the burning trees, a figure stood, barely visible through smoke and shadow.

Blood-stained clothes. Light armor scorched at the edges. Dark hair matted with sweat and ash. One eye half-hidden in shadow, dark like the void, filled with cold determination.

It was Amon.

His right hand held a sword.

His chest rose and fell heavily as he stood there, one hand still extended forward. Black mist slowly faded from his palm.

It was a magic spell.

[Eclipse Bolt]

Zerath’s lips curled upward.

“So you can actually use magic now,” he said, amused. “Interesting. Very interesting. It’s amazing how you were able to unlock the handcuffs.”

Amon didn’t reply. He kept staring at him with cold eyes.

His legs trembled slightly, his body screaming from exhaustion, wounds barely healed by potions. His head throbbed violently from overusing his abilities.

But his eyes—his eyes were steady, filled with hatred.

Zerath took a step forward, sword resting casually on his shoulder. “You really surprised me, boy. Breaking anti-magic cuffs. Burning our tents. Burning our supplies.”

He laughed softly. “I should thank you. It’s been a long time since someone entertained me like this.”

Amon finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “I’m not here to keep hearing your compliments.”

Zerath tilted his head. “Oh?”

“I’m here to survive,” Amon said. “And more than survive, I am here to kill you.” This time, Amon’s lips curved dangerously.

For a moment, Zerath stared at him. Then he burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! You?” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “You can barely stand.”

He couldn’t believe it. This boy actually thought he could kill him.

He pointed his sword at Amon. “You’re exhausted. Injured. Mentally shattered. That spell you fired just now?” He smirked. “It cost you a lot. I wonder how you plan to kill me.”

Amon said nothing.

Zerath’s smile sharpened. “Good. Then this will be quick.”

He took another step forward.

The flames around them surged higher, as if reacting to the pressure between the two.

Amon slowly raised his other hand. The shadow beneath his feet began to spread, crawling over the scorched ground like living darkness.

It moved from his legs toward his left hand, covering the blade of his hatchet.

His breathing grew heavier.

“Come,” Amon said quietly. “Try.” Zerath’s eyes gleamed.

Amon was at the Mana Initiate rank, while Zerath was at the Master rank. One rank above Amon in power.

And in the burning heart of the forest, hunter and prey finally faced each other, with fire, shadow, and blood waiting to decide who would walk out alive.

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