Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 45

“Don’t stop your feet or hands. If you want to see tomorrow, hurry up with your tasks!!”

Emrid, the commander of an infantry company of the Libertoa Trade Federation, raised his voice. He understood that his subordinates were working hard.

Yet, Emrid continued to spur them on, to advance the work by even a second, even a moment.

“The installation team has encountered monsters, battling over 40 orcs!!”

“Have Phil’s platoon handle it; the installation team should continue their work.”

The situation was deteriorating as nations entered the forests of the demonic territory on the outskirts of Mayard with battalion-sized forces.

It would be easier than attacking the positions held by Highserk soldiers. That’s what Emrid had naively thought before departure, and he wished he could punch his past self for such thinking.

Even Emrid, who had led extermination teams in the demonic territories of his homeland, was struggling, and the word ‘struggle’ felt too mild for the dire situation. Some companies had likely drawn the short straw and faced annihilation.

First and foremost, the number of monsters was extraordinary. The number of monsters encountered over a distance of 1km easily exceeded 100. These were not just small fry like goblins and kobolds but at least orcs, and beyond that ogres, lizardmen, lamias, and other B-class monsters.

“The shortest way is straight ahead, but that leads into the territory of the giant Abyss Birds.”

An adventurer, acting as the guide, opened a map and addressed Emrid. Ah, the Abyss Birds. Nobody was unaware of them. The sky beasts that sometimes fought with the flying dragon species for territory.

“A-class monsters, huh? Why are there so many of them? What about a detour?”

With A-class monsters, a whole platoon would be needed to confront them, and even then, victory would not be assured. And if there were multiple of them, even a company-sized force might’ve been in danger.

“There is one, but it requires passing through an area infested with insect-type monsters.”

“What types?”

“Mainly B-class spiders and ants. Fewer in number, but there are also worms. And if we’re unlucky, we might encounter a Giant Centipede. Fire could drive them away, but—”

The adventurer stopped speaking and looked at the barrels loaded on a handcart.

“We can’t use fire. We’ve been ordered not to because of the cargo.”

The cargo was Libertoa’s black water, with extremely high flammability and volatility. Using fire carelessly could ignite it, potentially cutting off their escape route in the demonic forest. It was an infuriating order for Emrid.

“We’ll take the detour. It’s easier to deal with than Abyss Birds.”

It was better to confront the more numerous but less dangerous insect-type monsters than to face an enemy that flies above and only descends to attack. As soon as Emrid decided on the route, a shout of anger rose from the rear of the column.

“A Gigant Ghoul!!”

A Ghoul that failed to evolve into a higher species like a Lich, with regenerative abilities and a rotting giant figure akin to a Cyclops, came into Emrid’s view.

“Volk squad, come here. We’re going to crush it.”

Emrid’s decision was quick, having used up his reserve forces. The Ghoul was an opponent they could escape from by just running, but it was a troublesome enemy that would relentlessly pursue its prey to eat, and they couldn’t just leave it be. Besides, they hadn’t yet joined up with the installation team, and they couldn’t just abandon them.

“I’ll provide support. If you can stop its movement, I can finish it with wind magic.”

One of the adventurers, acting as the guide, said to Emrid. Emrid had his doubts about whether they could really finish it off, but he had heard that the adventurers chosen as guides were skilled, even if one of them was a red-haired girl.

“I’ll stop it with my magic. I’m counting on you for the rest.”

The rearguard squad had already started fighting, and right before Emrid’s eyes, one was crushed by the giant’s swollen arm, and another had his upper body, armor and all, bitten off.

“This is for my men.”

Several spears and numerous arrows were embedded in the upper body of the undead, but they had little effect, failing to be decisive hits. The wounds inflicted by Emrid’s subordinates also grotesquely regenerated with a squelching sound.

“Take this, you dullard!”

Emrid kneaded his magical power and placed his hand on the ground.

“Earth Crack.”

After a few seconds of delay, the ground split open and began to bulge. An experienced soldier could easily avoid this, but it was unreasonable to expect the lumbering Gigant Ghoul to dodge. The rotting skin of the ghoul sagged in layers, and its liquid-spraying legs were swallowed by the ground. The bloated ghoul tried to crawl up while writhing in agony. Emrid stopped his subordinates who tried to cut it down as part of a containment action.

“Fall back. Don’t get in the line of fire of the magic.”

A young, red-haired adventurer, younger than Emrid, released her kneaded magical power. A gust of wind blew through the wind-scarce forest.

The wind blade released by the red-haired girl hit the Gigant Ghoul’s head, and it was decapitated as if slashed by countless blades.

It was the wind-attribute skill known to Emrid, Wind Fang.

“Stay back, it’s still moving.”

Without its head, the Gigant Ghoul flailed its massive arms but gradually its movements slowed and came to a complete stop.

The contents spilled out, emitting a nauseating stench like boiled sewer water, which assaulted Emrid’s nostrils. It was incomprehensible how much live bait it had consumed to grow so large.

“A nuisance even after dying twice.”

While administering first aid to the wounded, Emrid assessed the damage. Two dead, one injured, which was minimal considering they had defeated a monster equivalent to a high B-class.

“Leetia, was it? You saved us.”

“I’m glad I could be of help. It’s all for the sake of Mayard.”

Hatred flickered in the eyes of the red-haired girl, likely directed at the Highserk Empire that had invaded her homeland. Emrid had heard that adventurers were hired for extravagant sums, but some joined out of a rebellious spirit against the Highserk Empire that controlled their motherland.

Emrid could not fathom the feelings of those who left their parties to join such a mission, even someone as accustomed to scouting as Lefty.

Still, Emrid was sincerely glad to have such capable pieces added to his side.

“Adventurer, I’m counting on you to guide us.”

At the same time, Emrid was filled with anxiety. What would happen if they burned the Demonic Territory, where even on the outskirts B-class monsters roamed freely? He felt a chill down his spine.

Despite his rational mind telling him to stop, as a military man and a company commander, he had no choice but to carry out his mission.

◆

In the rural village now under the effective control of the Highserk Empire, there was a sense of suffocation. One of the village farmers, Yogim, worried about the village’s future. In the Battle of Aidenberg, the young men had been mobilized, and only one had returned from a retreat. According to what Yogim heard, the rest were either killed in battle or captured.

Rumors were circulating that they would be released in a few years if alive, but Yogim couldn’t be optimistic. Not enough people were available for fieldwork, and both the Mayard and Highserk armies had squeezed them dry, leaving little to no surplus of people or resources.

Even the elderly planning to retire and young children were forced to sweat in the fields. The villagers, who had helped transport supplies, spoke of the ongoing battles at the borders of the Kingdom of Felius, involving five countries.

Yogim picked up fallen branches in the forest and placed them in a basket. “If only I could use even one magic spell, life would be easier,” he thought. Yogim couldn’t use magic well and had only moderate physical strength, fully aware of his own mediocrity.

“What’s that? The forest got suddenly so bright.”

The deep forest, shunned and connected to the Demonic Territory, was faintly brightening. Carried by the wind, the smell of scorched earth reached them. “A wildfire, or something more troublesome,” Yogim scratched his head, pondering the situation.

The national army of Mayard was already annihilated, and the firefighting efforts had to be carried out solely by the villagers. Yogim was undoubtedly going to be one of them. Although he was on his way back to the village, his steps quickened as if driven by instinct.

Yogim was an ordinary man, but he possessed one peculiar skill. It was useless in normal times, but at the crossroads of life and death, Yogim’s intuition was remarkably accurate. Whether being chased by a Horned Grizzly in the forest or fighting as a soldier of the Former Kingdom of Canoa against the Highserk Empire, it was this intuition that had kept him alive. This ability had also been passed down to his son, Moiz, who was the sole survivor among the defeated Mayard soldiers, managing to escape back to the village.

Passing through the center of the village, Yogim reached his home on the outskirts. There, his wife Deborah and son Moiz were preparing dinner, chopping potatoes.

“Run!” Yogim exclaimed, surprised by the volume of his own voice.

“Are the Highserk soldiers chasing us?” asked Deborah, her eyes sharpening with concern for her son.

“No, it’s the forest. I feel like it’s about to twist and crush us.”

Yogim’s words might have seemed like madness, but Deborah didn’t question them. “Moiz, hitch the cart to the horse and load it with food and weapons only.”

“Mom?!”

“Don’t be foolish, son. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Moiz stiffened for a moment before running to the back of the house.

“Both you and Moiz have the ‘Intuition’ skill. If it’s telling us to run now, then we must. Is the village not safe?”

“Remember when the ogre horde attacked the village?”

“Yes, many Mayard soldiers died horribly.”

“That feels like child’s play compared to this.”

“…That’s bad news.”

Yogim heard screams piercing the air.

“They’re here.”

Screams and shouts echoed throughout the village as people began to flee.

A wave emerged from the forest. It wasn’t just a metaphor by Yogim; actual monsters were surging like a muddy stream. Not just one type, but a multitude of monsters charged like a torrent.

“A great rampage. Some country must have provoked them, damn it!”

Over ten Silver Wolves, known for their speed, ran towards Yogim. He didn’t hate dogs, but he despised Silver Wolves.

Yogim, lean and muscular, seemed an attractive target to them, as they drooled and opened their jaws wide.

Just before reaching Yogim, a Silver Wolf’s head was crushed by a hand reaching out from the side.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing to my husband?”

Deborah, a former adventurer skilled in ‘Super Strength’ and ‘Diamond skin,’ slammed the wolf’s body into another. The Silver Wolves were being killed by her punches. Fighting Deborah, even barehanded, was a life-or-death struggle for Yogim. A mere brush would result in a bruise, a direct hit could obliterate his frail body.

Yogim pulled out a fence post and faced the approaching Silver Wolves. His wife, more formidable, was seen as the easier target. While choosing Deborah over Yogim was a logical decision, considering a third option to flee would have been wiser.

Yogim, using ‘Intuition,’ perfectly anticipated a Silver Wolf’s pounce, thrusting the fence post into its mouth. No strength was needed. He simply held the post with his right hand and waist, gripping it with his left arm.

The Silver Wolf impaled itself. “Good dog,” Yogim thought, almost admiringly. Another affectionate wolf lunged for his throat.

Yogim embraced it, wrapping his arm around the wolf’s throat, flipping and twisting it. Without his ‘Intuition’ skill, Yogim, once an adventurer, was just a lean, ordinary man.

“What are you playing at? We need to go before it’s too late.”

Deborah’s sorrowful gaze fell upon the giant bodies of monsters entering the village.

“A Tyrant Worm, too?”

The peasants, armed with farming tools and makeshift weapons, were crushed against walls and killed by the mere movement of the Tyrant Worm. Even if Yogim and Deborah fought with all their might, it was too late for the village.

“Let’s get out of here. It’s too much for frail peasants. Let’s leave it to the Highserk soldiers.”

Yogim, with his family, left the village which had turned into a living hell. Out of 478 villagers, only three people and a horse survived.