116 - An Insidious Puppeteer

POV: Weys Adoldia

"Captain! They entered the forest!"

The voice of one of my men echoed among the trees. I pondered for a moment before giving the order firmly:

"This will be our last chance. If they manage to leave the forest alive, we will be entering the jurisdiction of the Order of the Temple. Surround them and do not let them escape!"

The three warriors by my side promptly replied: "Yes, sir!"

Two of them dispersed, their silhouettes disappearing among the dense vegetation. The third appeared by my side as we advanced through the woods.

In recent years, the Legion had been growing without stopping.

In terms of military power, we accepted new members every day, and each one of them received systematic training according to their talents.

Standing out above all was Taes, our commander at the Tinaver headquarters.

Recently, we celebrated Taes's coming-of-age ceremony; he challenged anyone brave enough to a duel. I even joined in, and I lost.

He was stronger than ever, even on his own, and as he was always accompanied by that enormous Ebony wolf, few were a threat to him, even across the continent.

Other talents also showed great progress, like the little dwarf Rufus, who was making enormous strides in his Earth magic; his control was extremely refined.

Even at only six or seven years old, he could overpower advanced-level warriors using only Earth magic; few could match him, and besides, just like Taes and Rygar, he also had an enormous Ebony Wolf as a bodyguard.

Garrison, the half-deer boy, proved to be very talented with the spear, although I didn't much like the weapon—I had to admit the boy was skilled.

Several other talents constantly emerged in the Legion, especially in the Great Forest, but I didn't know much about them, since I had only been in Tinaver and its surroundings lately.

Economically, we quickly became a huge mercenary and adventuring force, and since we had a monopoly on the resources of the Great Forest, most of our businesses had far more demand than supply, which made us grow rapidly.

Two months ago, we received several letters from our leader, Rygar Adoldia, the supreme commander of the Iron Legion.

The letters contained both good and bad news.

Among the good news was the confirmation of a large-scale alliance with the Kingdom of the Dragon King. Along with that news, Rygar sent detailed instructions on how to conduct future negotiations with that Kingdom.

But this kind of political matter was not my priority. My role was to be a warrior.

I was the first Sword Saint to emerge among the bestial tribes after our leader, and I carried great responsibility on my shoulders.

I saw Rygar grow from an extraordinary child into an indisputable leader of the Great Forest. My faith in him was absolute.

Although I didn't say it out loud, I firmly believed that Rygar would be the third Beast God, succeeding Giger, the legendary hero who appeared thousands of years ago among the bestial race.

I believed—and was certain—that Rygar would lead the bestial race to a new glorious era.

For that reason, I dedicated 120% of my effort to the Legion. If Rygar were to lead our race to the top, we would have to be his unwavering support.

Weakness was not an option.

That is why, upon receiving the next letters, our fury exploded.

Rygar reported an ambush carried out by a mercenary group called the Storm of Tyranny, targeting his life.

Among the enemies were extraordinary mages and a Northern Emperor—a situation of certain death for most people.

But, at the end of the letter, we felt pride.

Our leader not only repelled them, but also killed both of the most powerful opponents.

The Emperor, before dying, threatened to come to Milis and massacre every last one of our members. Therefore, our leader warned us that the rest of the group might have the same intentions to avenge him.

Rygar described their abilities and appearances in detail, warning us about the possibility of an attack.

According to him, a Sword Saint should be enough to handle the mages, since, by his analysis, they possessed poor physical abilities. But he also warned us not to engage them unless we had a high-level fighter.

He especially warned about a mage with a stone helmet and a red staff, claiming that his firepower was equivalent to—or even greater than—that of Rygar himself.

Immediately, we organized a sweep in Milis to check if that group had really come seeking revenge. Since they were a mercenary group from Begaritt, if they came to Milis, which lay on the opposite side of the path, they would basically be confirming their hostile intentions.

As our leader expected, after extensive investigations, we found them—the group was there.

Disguised, performing mercenary work to earn money.

The descriptions matched almost perfectly: an old warrior, a mage of the demonic race, and a small silver-haired elf. The only discrepancy was with the mage; he did not wear a stone helmet, but the red staff was present.

A meeting was convened among the commanders in Tinaver, and it was decided that we would hunt them down.

The mage with the stone helmet, according to Rygar's description, possessed a power so absurd that he could erase Tinaver from the map if he wished.

If he came to Milis, it was not with friendly intentions; if we allowed them to reach Tinaver, who would guarantee that he wouldn't kill everyone in his rage?

We couldn't take the risk. A preemptive strike was the best strategy.

Rygar's orders were to kill or contain the members of the group—but only attack if you are sure.

We couldn't dedicate all our strength to this endeavor; tensions between the Iron Legion and Milis were growing every day, and we had to maintain a powerful fighting force in several places.

Thus, I gathered a selected group of capable warriors and we set out for the ambush.

But nothing went as planned.

Right at the initial attack, we managed to bring down only the mage of the demonic race.

She was not killed outright, but was seriously injured and captured by one of the Legion's warriors.

I advanced directly against the mage with the red staff. With a precise strike, I executed a perfect Longsword of Light, aiming at his torso.

The blade, reinforced with my Touki, should have sliced him in two without resistance. But...

What happened was the opposite.

My sword shattered into countless fragments upon colliding with the stone armor on the mage's chest.

This was not a renowned sword, but it was an excellent blade made by dwarf blacksmiths. Even so, all it did on that stone breastplate was leave a large cut mark before shattering.

At that moment, a cold sensation ran down my spine. I was briefly shocked.

The elf and the warrior defended themselves from the ambush—she with magic and he with his fencing skills.

While I was without my longsword, I did not hesitate. Drawing a dagger, I advanced to kill him, trusting in my proficiency in the Northern God style.

He, unlike the other two, was still slightly in shock.

If my longsword failed, the speed of my short blade would find an opening.

But the silver-haired elf intervened.

With a fluid movement, she conjured a wind spell that violently separated us. The pressure of the gust forced me to retreat, diverting me so as not to lose my balance.

And then, everything turned into chaos.

A full-scale battle unfolded in that forest.

The clashing of swords echoed among the trees, sparks flying as blades collided.

Spells were conjured rapidly, exploding against tree trunks and raising dust and debris.

My warriors moved in formation, but the enemy defended themselves with remarkable coordination.

The elf channeled relentless spells, creating ice barriers and launching slicing gusts. The mage with the red staff moved little and incessantly cast fire and earth spells.

The old warrior, armed with a gleaming scimitar, fought fiercely, preventing us from getting too close to the mages.

The first thing that came to my mind, seeing these spells being cast so freely, was my battles with the leader Rygar when he was young.

The intensity, the aggressiveness, the lethality of those spells... These youngsters were dangerous.

However, gradually, we gained the advantage. Our coordination and experience as warriors of the Iron Legion allowed us to anticipate their movements.

The mages were vulnerable without at least two warriors protecting them.

The elf, despite her destructive power, did not have a solid defense against a swift attack. We were close to victory...

Until he appeared.

Laws suddenly appeared, blocking our attacks on the enemies. His face bore an unmistakable seriousness and urgency, and his voice sounded clear and firm as he ordered:

"Stop fighting!"

His gaze was fixed on the elf, whom he pointed at without hesitation.

"That girl... is my daughter!"

Shock ran through my body. Many there knew Laws.

He had been our companion in recent years; he was the leader of the Search and Rescue Division for those affected by the Fitoa teleportation incident.

His search for his wife and daughter had become a silent obsession, something we respected, but that never outweighed his dedication to the Legion.

I remembered his daughter had green hair, but we were absolutely certain that Laws would never mistake his daughter, since that had literally been his only objective during the past two years.

But now, he had found his daughter amidst the enemies.

I hesitated.

The leader's orders were clear: kill or contain that group.

The possibility that they could be a long-term threat could not be ignored. However, Laws was there, standing with an unwavering stance, ready to defend the girl with his own life.

On the other side, the adversaries also hesitated.

The hatred for their demonic companion being injured and captured was still visible on their faces, but the elf was the first to react. Her eyes, which had previously exuded fury, were now filled with tears. Her voice came out trembling, uncertain, laden with years of longing and doubts:

"Father...?"

The battlefield fell silent for a moment. The air was still charged with tension. Everyone was alert, ready to attack at the slightest sign of hostility. But gradually, the weapons began to lower.

We could contain them. We wouldn't need to kill them. After all, the elf was Laws' daughter... and Laws was one of ours.

It was then that everything went wrong.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw the blade slicing through the air.

A sword was thrown at high speed, executing a classic throwing technique of the Northern God style.

The blow was precise, lethal, aimed directly at Laws' nape.

He was not focused on the fight at that moment; his attention was entirely on his daughter.

He was filled with emotion, full of joy after two years of finally reuniting with his lost daughter.

He wouldn't have been able to react in time.

The steel pierced his throat without resistance. A clean cut. Quick. And then, silence.

Laws fell forward. His body crashed heavily to the ground, his eyes still open, but lifeless.

My heart raced. My mind was boiling with questions.

Who threw that sword? Why didn't I give the order to cease the combat? Was it my fault? Should I have shouted? Should I have given a clear command to stop the fight?

Perhaps someone there did not recognize Laws. But it didn't matter anymore. He was dead.

The elf froze for a moment. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she saw her father's fallen body. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Then, everything around began to freeze.

A wave of tremendous cold emanated from the girl's body. The ground, the trees, even the air were enveloped by a freezing storm.

The scream she let out tore through the silence and resonated in our bones, stunning us momentarily.

The cold was so intense that my skin burned at the slightest contact with the surrounding air.

That scream emanated a power that vaguely recalled the Howling Magic of our tribe.

The combat resumed, but this time we had no advantage. The girl's rage transformed into pure destructive power. Some of our warriors were frozen instantly.

The frozen terrain hindered our movements, and the elf cast spells without worrying about anything other than trying to kill us all.

The battle continued, but we couldn't advance without risking being killed by a random spell flying by. The elf was out of control. There was no more strategy.

Even if I managed to find an opportunity to advance, the other mage and the warrior always blocked.

And then, they fled.

We couldn't contain them. We failed in our mission. Our leader entrusted us with this task, and we let it slip through our fingers. It was a bitter defeat.

After running through the forest, trying to find any trace of the group, I spotted something in the distance. Enormous magical towers rose on the horizon, gleaming in the sunlight.

Milishion.

I stopped, taking a deep breath. The sacred city of the Church of Milis was just ahead. We could not pursue them there.

I clenched my fists and gave the order, my voice laden with frustration and resignation:

"Cease the search. This mission... has failed."

----

POV: Luke Notos Greyrat

I woke up with a start, cold sweat dripping down my forehead.

Before I even had time to think, I had grabbed my sword and dashed out of the room in maximum alert.

I ran down the narrow palace corridor, my steps echoing in a frantic rhythm, until I reached the door of Princess Ariel's room.

"Derrick!" I shouted urgently.

The mage, who was sleeping seated in a chair next to the door, woke up startled, his eyes widening as he noticed my urgent expression.

The guard next to him also looked surprised, but Derrick, being an experienced mage, understood immediately. Without hesitating, he got up and opened the door with an agile movement.

We burst into the room in an instant.

And it was then that I saw him.

A hooded figure, moving with agility, was entering through the window.

He advanced toward Ariel's bed, where the princess was still fighting off sleep, unaware of the impending danger.

My body moved before my mind could process it.

My enchanted boots, a rare artifact that amplified my speed, allowed me to cross the room in the blink of an eye.

The assassin noticed my approach and reacted immediately. He tried to dodge to the side, drawing a thin, lethal blade, but I was already on top of him, thwarting his strike.

Our swords clashed, sparks flying in the air with the impact. He was fast, but I was faster. Every move he made was calculated, but I had already fought assassins before.

"From the womb of the earth I raise you, molded by the fury of the titans. Now, abandon your stone bed and pierce the enemy, Stone Lance!" Derrick conjured quickly, his voice charged with urgency.

The ground beneath the assassin's feet trembled for a brief moment before a stone spear emerged from the earth, shooting in his direction. He reacted instinctively, jumping to the side to avoid the attack.

That was my chance.

In a fluid and lethal movement, I advanced with all my might, my blade piercing the assassin's chest.

I felt the resistance of flesh and bone as my sword embedded deeply. He choked, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as his body trembled before finally giving in.

His eyes went blank, and he fell lifeless to the floor.

The sound of the impact echoed through the room.

A momentary silence settled. My breathing was rapid. My hands gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, blood dripping from the freshly used blade.

It was then that the other guards arrived, their armor clinking as they ran into the chamber. But it was too late for any reinforcements. Ariel was safe.

The princess, still in her silk nightgown, approached hesitantly.

Her eyes shone in the dim light of the room, reflecting the flash of the magical lamp beside the bed. She stopped before me and, to my surprise, held my hand delicately.

"Thank you, Luke," she said, her voice soft yet full of gratitude, accompanied by a radiant smile.

I felt a strange warmth in my chest, but I immediately knelt on one knee, bowing my head respectfully.

"Just my duty, princess," I replied with a small smile.

Derrick, who was watching the scene intently, frowned and murmured:

"That was too close, Luke... How did that assassin climb up to that window?"

He walked to the window, inspecting it with sharp eyes, but soon turned back to me.

"How did you know?" he asked, his voice laden with relief and curiosity.

I smiled lightly, trying to hide my worry.

"Just a premonition," I replied casually.

But inside, I was uneasy. I looked at the night sky through the open window, feeling a weight in my chest.

According to His words, this was just the beginning; the princess was only 11 years old, and I was 12, but this was already the third assassin—and this one even invaded the princess's room at night. If He hadn't warned me, how could the princess survive?

I needed to convince Princess Ariel to leave the Kingdom of Asura as quickly as possible; that was the advice He had given me, only then could we survive.

My determination was strong.

Protecting Ariel was my duty and purpose.

She was my princess, and I was her knight.

----

Hello! If you want to support my writing, check out my subscription P@treon

By subscribing, you will get access to up to 20 advanced chapters of the Webnovel (I will add more in the future) and polls to decide various things about the story.

Your support will encourage me to continue writing more chapters! Check it out here: pa treon.com/DaoistJunkYard