Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 97

Hidden by clouds aligned with the twin moons, the moonlight that exposed the dark night was now obscured. The man peered out from the shadow of a shrub. His target was sitting at the base of a tree, merging with it. Much time had passed under the cloak of night, and though his outline was hidden by a cloak, there was no doubt he was asleep.

“Let’s do this.”

The man held his breath. Rodrigo was one of the vassals of Baron Fanfahl, a minor lord who had marched with the Meizenaf Family at the magic silver mines. Assigned near the main camp, Rodrigo was unhappy with his position in the rear in a battle that was supposed to be a victory. The risk of injury was indeed low. However, when considering looting supplies and bodies after the war, anything of value would have been pillaged, and the remaining goods fought over by the soldiers themselves.

Frustrated with his unprofitable role, Rodrigo’s unfortunate assignment turned out to be life-saving, as the battleground, known as the Dalimarcus’s slaughter field, shifted the odds. Viscount Barnes and members of the Meizenaf family, as well as the majority of their mercenaries never saw their homeland again, falling into the hands of the Dalimarcus Family.

Although he didn’t lose his life, anyone unable to pay a ransom was forced into hard labor in the magic silver mines. As far as Rodrigo knew, those without resistance and lacking earth attribute magic had to pay dearly by working in the harsh conditions of the mine’s depths. The heat and inhaled dust could easily shorten a lifespan. Only about half would be fortunate enough to be freed from the mines.

Fortunately, Rodrigo had experience and skill in withdrawing from group combat and escaping pursuers, in addition to his position towards the rear. As his allies were decimated, Rodrigo, along with some disreputable comrades, managed to break away.

They barely escaped death. But that alone was not enough. Everything risked was for the sake of money. The cost of debts, consumables—there was no end to the need of money.

The last Rodrigo saw of Baron Fanfahl, he was retreating with a few servants and soldiers. Whether he escaped or was captured, it was a small matter for Rodrigo who didn’t have loyalty to either side.

Rodrigo’s only real fear was the likelihood that the promised payment would not be made. Even if Baron Fanfahl was alive, ransoms for captured family members, looted supplies, and lost personnel would drain the baron’s finances. 40% of his rewards paid in advance had already been spent on armor repairs and alcohol. For a soldier, war was a time during which wealth not possible in peacetime could be made—though minor conflicts existed in the stable Archipelago Countries, significant battles were rare.

This opportunity could not be missed. Along with seven soldiers he led out of that deadly place, Rodrigo was determined to work on his side hustle. However, taking on the powerful Dalimarcus and Highserk was risky. The villages of both the Meizenaf and Dalimarcus territories were on guard against violence of the defeated soldiers, heavily securing their areas.

With dozens of men, they might have been able to raze a village overnight, but Rodrigo did not possess the ability or the backbone to lead so many. In this situation, his choice was to hunt his own comrades.

Fortunately, he had no shortage of scapegoats. The remnants of Highserk and the relentless pursuit by the Dalimarcus Family had been particularly brutal. Some overly eager soldiers even attempted to pursue them into Meizenaf territory.

Death was a common misfortune on the battlefield. A few more stripped bodies wouldn’t matter to anyone. Rodrigo tricked stray soldiers by various means. He would offer a friendly smile, then slit their throats from behind or ambush them in their sleep. Sometimes, he would lie in wait and kill all his targets at once.

Even the henchmen who had been afraid to kill strays grew accustomed to the attacks and became intoxicated with the feeling that came from killing their own. Rodrigo’s target this time was also a soldier acting alone. Whether out of caution or exhaustion, he had fallen asleep in the dark woods without even lighting a fire.

“Don’t aim for the torso, focus near the head. Even with armor, the impact can’t be blocked.”

“Yeah, leave it to me.”

The archer responded quietly. The man likely wore armor under his cloak. His head might also be protected, but the shock wouldn’t be completely absorbed, and waking up to a severe blow would definitely disorient him. If he wasn’t wearing a helmet, it would save them extra trouble.

The archer drew his bow silently and slowly. Rodrigo and the other seven were ready to charge in case of failure. Although Rodrigo’s gaze was fixed on his prey, a branch stretching out from a tree caught his eye.

“What is that…?”

The suspended object swung gently in an arc. Squinting his eyes, Rodrigo grasped what it was and spat out in disgust.

“What a hideous mask.”

A mask depicting a demon hung from a branch by a rope. Rodrigo could not comprehend the reason behind deliberately hanging such a tasteless mask. It might’ve been the doing of cultists who worshipped evil gods or necromancers bound by gruesome rituals and strictures.

Just as the arrow, drawn to its limit, was about to be released, Rodrigo noticed something odd. The surrounding vegetation was eerily still, and there was no night breeze. Yet, why did the mask continue to move slightly?

“Hey, wait—”

Having been in many battlefields, Rodrigo, following his instincts, tried to signal the archer to stop, but it was too late. The arrow shot forth from the darkness in a straight line.

Had he been overly cautious or cowardly? Rodrigo brushed aside his lingering concerns and watched the outcome. The arrow flew true towards its target—the head.

If it were a helmet, it would clang metallically; if flesh, it would thud dully, moistly. According to his experience, it should have been one of those two sounds. However, neither of the sounds Rodrigo anticipated occurred. Instead, a dull, low noise echoed through the forest.

“What the—?!”

The head of the man, who was supposed to be asleep, moved. The arrow, its tip twisted by the man’s bent neck, was embedded in the giant tree he leaned against. The clouds cleared, and from within the hood, two eyes appeared. They were not human eyes. Dark and murky, but they could only be described as golden eyes that intensely fixed on Rodrigo.

Rodrigo’s men had charged in as planned, using an arrow as the signal. In the darkness of the event, how much could they have sensed the anomaly in that moment? The man leaped up as if flung, thrusting out one arm. Then, abruptly, a pale blue light illuminated the darkness.

“Scatter!”

A blue flame tore through the darkness, swirling around the man’s right hand and stretching towards the men who had charged in. The manifested fireball exploded, showcasing its function and effects to the surroundings.

The blast wave shook the eardrums, and eyes accustomed to the darkness were dazzled and impaired by the fierce flames. The torsos of two men who had run ahead were blown away, and warm pieces of flesh and organs were scattered all around.

“He’s a fire magic user! Spread out and close the distance, don’t let him fire another shot!”

Rodrigo immediately issued the command. It was natural tactic to close the distance and fight against a magic user. By the time Rodrigo’s eyes had adjusted to the flame made by magic, one of the men who should have been running forward was standing still in front of the blue flame.

“Hey, don’t space out!”

The immobile comrade emitted a faint, gurgling sound mixed with moisture. Rodrigo’s face contorted. The spear point had penetrated his throat, and now he was vomiting blood.

“He’s in the fire!”

Amidst the magical explosions, the man was within the blue flame. A mask that should have been hanging was now attached to the man’s face. A soldier, who had been dodging around the blue flame in dismay, had his throat slit from the side before he could understand the situation.

Blood spouted like a fountain from the severed artery, evaporating in the blue flame. Rodrigo’s survival instincts sounded an alarm, but he gritted his teeth, gathered strength in his abdomen, and thrust his short spear.

“Dieeeeee!”

Though the thrust was deflected by the claw-side of a halberd, it was not an effective strike, yet Rodrigo gained precious time. His companions, who had been disoriented by the magic, regained their footing and surrounded the man.

“Don’t be afraid, everyone together!”

Receiving Rodrigo’s encouragement, the companions simultaneously slashed at him. One stepped forward with a round shield to close the distance, while the man swung his halberd. The defensive posture, hiding behind the round shield with a long sword protecting his throat, should have been impenetrable even by a halberd.

The visible magic energy around the man’s halberd twisted and clung. Without a chance for Rodrigo to shout a warning, the halberd’s axe head smashed through the round shield from above, severing both hands.

“Ah, aaAHHH, AGHHHH!”

As his comrade screamed with his forearms lost, Rodrigo took aim. The remaining two companions swung a long sword and a mace.

“DIE ALREADY!”

The man dodged the mace with a half-turn and avoided the long sword aimed at his head by swerving his upper body, as if he had eyes on his back. Rodrigo did not miss the chance as the man’s posture faltered, and struck a vital blow to the man’s exposed throat.

However, just as Rodrigo was certain he had taken the man’s life, a shadow approached from the side. It was, unbelievably, the handless comrade.

“Sto—aaah…”

Unthinkable, it shouldn’t have happened. In this brief moment, Rodrigo realized the extent of the target’s intention— an unbearable reality descended upon him. The pitiful comrade was hooked by the claw of the halberd and twisted into the path of the short spear. Rodrigo could not deflect the thrust. The spearhead penetrated his comrade’s chest, shattering the collarbone and ravaging his insides.

“Damn it!”

Rodrigo tried to pull back quickly, but the spearhead got caught on the breastplate and the shattered bone remains, preventing him from pulling the spear back. The man, without attempting to correct his collapsed posture, fell to the ground. With one hand on the ground and the other maneuvering the halberd, he swept the ankle of the companion holding the mace.

Planting the spear butt in the ground, Rodrigo stood up. He gave up on the short spear and drew his long sword from his waist. He was not yet defeated. But as he approached from behind, the suddenly turning man’s gaze met Rodrigo’s.

Immediately, Rodrigo stiffened. A shock ran through his neck, burning like a fire injury. Starting with his throat, blood flowed unceasingly. As he turned around, the halberd thrust had flashed through Rodrigo’s throat.

“Ugh… ah…”

Blood flooded from the artery to the trachea, and Rodrigo spat blood with the little air he could get. His vision narrowed and darkened. Collapsing from his knees, Rodrigo sprawled his limbs onto the ground just as his last companion was slain with a diagonal slash.

The man who had wiped his halberd clean of blood shook his head, looking around as if searching for a lost item in an everyday scene—not the actions of someone who had just finished killing a soldier with one hand.

Approaching as if he had found exactly what he was looking for, the man loomed over Rodrigo. Rodrigo could hardly believe his ears when he heard the man’s words.

“Hey, don’t die.”

“Ha… don… joke… wit… m…”

The very culprit who had inflicted the fatal wound was now encouraging Rodrigo not to die. It was incomprehensible. Rodrigo tried to consider whether he was merely hallucinating, but his muddled consciousness and the darkening of his vision hindered any further thought. Ultimately, Rodrigo had no time left to ponder as his end approached.

Translator – Lyxxna