After the wingfolk scouts repeatedly confirmed no demon eyes nearby, a hundred-man squad quietly slipped out of Goldvalley City.
The team was jointly led by Angela and Baron Morton. It mixed Puchi masters with beastmen good at scouting, like wingfolk; this was practically the limit of what Goldvalley’s already thin defenses could spare.
Everyone prayed the squad would return safely.
The Puchis brought all had tentacles and [Mana Storage].
The former for carrying things, the latter because this was an operation away from the fungal mat; without [Mana Storage], Puchis would starve halfway.
Fortunately, though Puchi skills weren’t fixed, these two traits were common enough that assembling a squad wasn’t hard.
Puchi masters’ command range was roughly three hundred meters. Beyond that, responses grew sluggish or commands failed entirely.
Thus, the round little creatures now trotted along both flanks, tightly following their respective masters.
During the march, one Puchi master couldn’t help tapping the shoulder of the one ahead. “Your Puchi mixed into my group. My formation’s messed up; control it.”
The one in front didn’t turn, replying irritably, “Mine are all on the right. That’s someone else’s. What’s the big deal if they mix? Enemies show up, they all swarm anyway.”
“No… messy formation bothers me.”
While they talked, the unidentified Puchi quietly fell back a few positions, blending into the rear Puchi crowd.
Seeing it vanish, the complaining Puchi master finally reordered his own Puchis and nodded in satisfaction.
Tch.
Annoying, these perceptive Puchi masters.
The Puchi was naturally Lin Jun controlling via [Kin Manipulation].
Nothing special about it; maybe slightly bigger self-destruct. Mainly a camera to watch.
Had to admit, in small-scale scouting, beastman soldiers shone.
Wingfolk aerial scouting went without saying. In just half a day, one had already flown to Cape Valor and brought back intel.
As Baron Morton said, it had fallen. The wingfolk scout saw no living souls; only charred ruins and corpses everywhere.
Fortunately, no demon traces. Clearly the demons had looted and left.
Besides wingfolk, ground beastmen were mostly seasoned hunters who could read tracks. Even the supposedly useless ratmen could sense vibrations and warn of cavalry.
Still, Angela’s heart hung in the air.
They were playing a deadly game of hide-and-seek, stealing needed resources on predator territory.
If any demon force spotted this hundred-man squad, annihilation was certain.
At that point, maybe only wingfolk had a slim chance to fly back.
Fortunately, until sunset, they met no trouble.
When the last rays vanished, the squad safely reached Cape Valor.
The once-prosperous small port town was now only ruins.
Even embers in the burned houses had long died.
In the cold night wind, only the chewing of scavenging beasts echoed among the wreckage.
No time to rest. By moonlight, the team began driving away the feasting creatures and claiming their dinner.
No one lit torches or used illumination spells; that would be announcing their presence to demons.
…
While subordinates collected “materials,” Baron Morton stood alone by a broken wall, repeatedly rubbing an exquisite pendant engraved with his family crest.
Passing by, Angela heard him murmuring to the pendant. “My little Lucia…”
“Baron, this is…” Though both diamond-tier, the baron clearly outranked her.
Facing her curiosity, Morton didn’t hide it. “Marlon gem, also called kinship gem. When worn by close kin, they can sense each other’s direction over a wide range. The other is with my daughter.”
“Your daughter…”
After a brief silence, Angela softly encouraged, “The demons have taken too much, but as long as we keep fighting, there’s still hope.”
“Not just demons,” Morton gave a bitter laugh. “Commander Angela, do you know it took me forty full years to rise from a mere knight squire to earning that modest territory, only then having time to start a family and raise my daughter…”
“Last year when the border was in danger, I donated seventy percent of my land’s grain stores. This spring, I personally sent three hundred fine young men to enlist. I thought that would protect my land and family!”
He suddenly turned to Angela, eyes blazing with fury. “And what happened? When the army retreated, they didn’t even warn us! They wanted to use our lives to buy them a little more time!”
Angela could understand Baron Morton’s feelings. Goldvalley City had been abandoned too.
But she could also understand the higher-ups’ choice. Sacrificing a few to save many was too common.
Not just the United Kingdom; even beastman tribes did it.
Those like her sent to join the war were the ones meant to be sacrificed.
The difference was she still had family in her tribe and volunteered. Baron Morton clearly hadn’t.
Understanding was one thing; she felt he was too agitated. Completing the mission mattered now.
Angela was about to console him when a soldier brought over a ragged human. “Commander, found a survivor. Says he’s from elsewhere, not local.”
The man immediately knelt, not to Angela but to Morton. “B-Baron! Thank the gods you’re alive! The escapees all said you died covering the people’s retreat against the demons…”
He seemed genuinely overjoyed Morton lived.
Looking at the kneeling man, Morton sighed deeply. “I wish I had died then…”
The next instant, steel flashed. Angela’s battle-honed instincts sent her leaping back, but the blade still grazed her right shoulder.
“You…” Blood seeped between her fingers as she clutched the wound. “Why?”
Morton’s face twisted for a moment.
“He got it wrong,” his voice was hoarse. “I wasn’t covering the people’s retreat… I was covering my family’s, and… I failed. So I chose another path!”
As if to prove it, dozens of torches flared in the surrounding darkness. Heavy footsteps approached from all sides. Pigfolk soldiers in crude iron armor, tusks bared, surged forward like a tide, surrounding them.
Morton quickly retreated to stand beside the pigfolk leader, even taller and burlier than the rest.
“Daddy!”
A tearful cry. A girl was roughly shoved into Morton’s arms.
Around her neck hung a gem pendant identical to Morton’s. She clung tightly to her father’s clothes, sobbing softly.
The pigfolk leader gave a satisfied grunt, foul breath filling the air.
“Not bad!” He slapped Morton’s shoulder with a meaty hand. “Keep proving your worth, and I guarantee you and your daughter will live comfortably in my territory.”
He turned to the encircled group, flashing a tusked grin. “Same for you lot! Drop your weapons, kneel, and surrender—you live!”
Angela endured the searing pain in her shoulder and slowly straightened. She looked at Morton, who held his daughter tightly but wouldn’t meet her eyes, and sneered.
“How ironic, Baron. Just now you were cursing the kingdom for sacrificing you. Now you sacrifice us to save your daughter.”
She sniffed hard, gripped her longsword firmly with both hands, and pointed it straight at the pigfolk leader. “Surrender? You stinking pigs reek. I can’t stand it!”
(End of Chapter)
