30

The sun rose quietly on another day—uneasy, tense, like the calm before a storm.

"MILORD! Someone got caught in the trap!" Jayson's voice broke the morning stillness, excitement ringing in his tone.

Vanthelis turned sharply, his expression hard. Together, they rushed toward the trap laid near the forest's edge. As they arrived, Vanthelis's frown deepened.

A gnoll, impaled from the stomach, foot, and hand—still alive, barely, twitching in agony.

"They found us," Vanthelis muttered. "This one… must be from the scouts who were sent out days ago to search for the missing patrols. The same ones we already killed."

He crouched near the gnoll, studying its bloodshot eyes. There was no hope left in it—only pain and confusion.

Vanthelis stood up and glanced toward the distant trees.

"Prepare yourselves. Jayson. Haben. Today, we finish it."

They nodded grimly. As the group readied themselves, Kristine approached.

"Can I come too?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

Vanthelis placed a hand on her head, his voice gentle but firm. "Not this time. Stay here. Watch over the others and get some rest."

Kristine didn't argue. She simply nodded and stepped back as the three vanished into the woods.

At the gnoll base...

"GRIEEEEK!!"

The agonizing cry echoed through the camp. A gnoll burned alive, writhing and clawing at the dirt as smoke billowed from his body. The other gnolls watched in terror as their leader stood motionless, eyes cold, face expressionless.

He had killed the one who dared insult him. But it wasn't enough.

"Cowards… traitors…" the gnoll leader muttered, his voice dark. Then, without warning, he struck down another, and another—one by one, the kneeling gnolls were slaughtered under his rage.

Only when silence returned did the leader crack a satisfied smile. The bodies around him twitched no longer. Ash and blood mixed on the dirt, and the remaining gnolls didn't even dare breathe loudly.

Then a group of scouts approached, kneeling quickly before speaking.

"Leader… we found the missing patrol group. All dead... and not recently. Their bodies were cold, already starting to rot. I think… they fought each other. Their throats… lungs… stabbed."

The gnoll leader growled. His expression turned sharp.

"No. Someone did this," he snapped. "They didn't kill each other. There's someone out there, hiding in the dark."

He glanced toward the horizon, eyes narrowing.

"Clean this up," he ordered, and turned toward the mine in silence.

The remaining gnolls bowed, hurrying to gather the bodies.

But whispers returned the moment he was gone.

"He's insane…"

"He killed our own again… we should've left."

Fear spread in silence.

An hour later...

Vanthelis, Jayson, and Haben arrived near the edge of the gnoll base, crouched behind thick bushes and trees.

What they saw made Vanthelis smirk.

The base was in chaos. Ash still floated in the air, and bloodstains marked the earth. The number of active gnolls had dropped drastically—barely forty remained, and many looked like cubs or injured ones.

Vanthelis leaned toward Haben, whispering with a cold grin.

"See those gnolls? I want you to run toward them later. Make them chase you. Lure them back here where Jayson will set the traps. We'll kill them one by one."

"You sure they'll chase?" Haben asked, eyes narrowed.

"They're desperate. Their leader's gone mad. They'll bite at anything," Vanthelis replied.

Then he turned to Jayson.

"How long to set the trap?"

Jayson scratched the back of his head. "An hour, maybe. No shafts or spikes—just dirt pits and a few ropes. It'll catch 'em under, but not kill 'em outright."

"Good enough," Vanthelis said. "Let's get to work."

The three of them spread out, moving swiftly. The forest became a silent workshop of war.

They knew they didn't have many chances left.

But they didn't need many.

Just one—one good strike.

And it would all begin with the bait.