Chapter 86: Split Strategy
The convoy departed at exactly 8:00 A.M.
Radiant Walkers led the march—silent, alert, the forest reflected in their cold eyes. Behind them came the heart of the expedition: the Expert Knights, the three Wizards from the Alliance, and Count Alden himself. Servants, junior guards, and more Radiant Walkers brought up the rear, guarding the supplies.
Most tools and food were stored inside spatial rings, but a few Radiant Knights still carried armor sets and crates of rations on their backs—a backup in case disaster struck.
The forest wasn't kind. Roots bulged out like sleeping serpents, vines hung low, and the ground dipped unpredictably. Still, the formation flowed onward without breaking rhythm.
By late morning, the calm shattered.
A pack of War Hyenas burst through the shrubs—red-eyed, gaunt, slavering. They didn't roar or posture. They just attacked.
Steel flashed. Mana hummed. The Radiant Walkers cut them down with ruthless precision. In less than sixty seconds, the beasts lay in bloodied heaps. Their corpses were dragged off the trail, elemental stones stripped, valuable organs removed.
The forest swallowed the silence again.
But it didn't last.
Bloodthirsty Bulls charged from a rocky incline—massive beasts with hides that shimmered crimson under the sun. Their hooves cracked the stones, roars shaking the leaves overhead. And again, the Radiant Walkers handled it without breaking formation.
By noon, sweat clung to armor, and breaths grew heavier. Still, the convoy pressed forward.
Then, at around 3 P.M., the forest changed.
The silence felt wrong.
The shadows deeper.
The wind still.
Rustling spread like a wave.
Wild Apes.
Dozens first. Then scores. Nearly a hundred.
They barreled from the trees, snarling, screeching—some dropping from branches with stones clutched in their hands. Rank-1 beasts filled the clearing in a chaotic tide. At the center, a hulking Rank-2 ape pounded its chest, shaking dust from the branches above.
A servant screamed as an ape snatched him and tore his head off. Another fell, his arm ripped open. Panic rippled through the convoy—guards scrambling, servants fleeing, others frozen in terror.
Raven stood unmoving, eyes cutting through the chaos.
Beside him, Jovie's gaze sharpened, her posture shifting—not afraid, simply assessing.
Then armored footsteps thundered forward.
Nash.
His new armor gleamed emerald under the fractured sunlight, runes humming faintly across the plates. He didn't shout. Didn't posture.
He simply raised his sword.
One slash.
The blade howled through the air—clean, perfect, merciless.
The Rank-2 ape's head spun off its shoulders.
The horde shrieked. Momentum broke. Apes scattered in every direction, climbing trees or vanishing deeper into the woods. In minutes, the forest stilled again.
The ground, however, did not.
Blood soaked the dirt. One man dead. Two critically wounded. Several trembling.
By 4 P.M., the march resumed—tense, weary. Raven felt his body loosen, the shapeshifting spell thinning like smoke.
He moved fast.
Ariel, the brown-haired Wizard from the Alliance, didn't question anything when Raven approached.
"Helmet. Armor," Raven whispered.
The wizard tossed him the spares and walked away rubbing his temples. By dusk, Raven had vanished into anonymity again.
Night settled in. A towering tree offered shelter, its branches spreading wide like ribs of a natural cathedral. A clear stream trickled nearby, soft and steady.
Campfires lit. Tents rose. The smell of roasted meat drifted through the camp.
Inside a small servant's tent, Raven sat cross-legged on a mat, a dull ache running up his spine.
'So the shapeshift drains physical strength too… great.'
Jovie lounged opposite him, leaning against the thin canvas wall, her eyes half-closed but alert.
"You need rest," she said. Not a suggestion—an observation. "Tomorrow'll be worse."
Raven rubbed his jaw. "How many expeditions have you joined?"
"Five," she said, flicking a strand of hair aside. "Two with mercenaries. Three with nobles."
"And?"
She snorted.
"Didn't matter who led them. The wyverns chewed everyone up."
Raven's shoulders stiffened.
With his current strength, he could threaten a Rank-2 beast only because of his tricks… and even that wasn't a guarantee.
"So even if we somehow slip past the wyvern settlement, there's a high chance of more Rank-3s before reaching the ruins?"
"Exactly," Jovie said. "Lucas Thornevale is sending his seventh son next week."
Raven frowned. "The Thornevale household? You think this expedition is doomed too?"
"Mm. Ninety percent." Her lips curled. "But the next one will succeed. That boy's already a Mystic Walker."
Raven's eyes flickered.
A Mystic Walker…
A realm above Expert.
That explained the confidence.
But a question nagged him.
"Why's everyone obsessed with the Agith ruins?"
Jovie's expression turned serious.
"The Mystic Cauldron displayed a specimen three years ago. A new magical beast—something the world had never cataloged."
Raven's fingers froze.
"A specimen?"
"Yes. After that, the Wizard Alliance threw money at mercenaries. Multiple expeditions launched—some secretly. And strangely?" She lowered her voice. "Magical beasts increased around Bloodstone City at the same time."
Raven's heart sank.
'A rare specimen…
The Mind Worm I sold to Anastasia.'
He inhaled sharply.
'So I triggered this mess myself…'
He let out a quiet sigh. Jovie didn't notice. She rolled onto her side, back half-turned toward him. The lantern's glow slowly dimmed.
Raven lay down next, still uncomfortable sharing a tent with her. Exhaustion won.
The camp fell into silence—leaves whispering above, distant beasts howling in the dark.
Morning arrived cold and pale.
Raven slipped out first. Jovie joined him moments later, stretching as the other two kitchen attendants gathered vegetables and spices.
They resumed their roles without a word—Raven chopping steadily, Jovie stirring broth, the air filling with the scent of herbs and simmering meat.
Near the stream, Knights washed off dried blood and dirt. Blades were sharpened, sparks flying in rhythmic bursts. The wounded sat close to the fires, sipping healing potions, color returning to their faces.
By 8 A.M., the march restarted.
And the forest struck again.
Rustling.
Low growls.
A circle of foxes emerged—sleek, quick, eyes glowing red. A Rank-2 Red Fox led them, tail flicking like embers in the wind.
"Front line!" a guard shouted.
Radiant Walkers surged forward. Foxes darted between legs, slashing ankles, snapping at throats. Magic flared. Steel met fur.
Nash stepped forward to meet the Red Fox. The beast split its tail into two, lashing from opposite sides. Nash's blade gleamed under the filtered sunlight.
Two moves.
One heartbeat.
The fox dropped—heart pierced cleanly.
The other foxes fled, leaving bodies and blood in their wake.
Count Alden nodded once.
"Harvest the hearts and fur. The blood as well."
The Radiant Walkers obeyed quickly, stripping the corpses before storing them in spatial rings.
The march continued.
A kilometer later, the ground trembled.
Armored Salamanders poured onto the path—thick scales like interlocking stone, jaws glowing with heat. Four of them radiated the heavy pressure of Rank-2 beasts.
"Enemy ahead!"
This time, the Expert Walkers moved first.
Magic—bright and volatile—burst across the clearing. Salamanders spat molten lava. Tails cracked like hammers. But the experts overwhelmed them in minutes, crushing the beasts in coordinated strikes.
Silence returned.
Nothing dared approach after that.
And by late afternoon, the expedition stepped into a valley—wide, enclosed, jagged cliffs rising on every side like the teeth of a buried titan.
To the right, a tall, jagged hill stood like a silent guardian.
Raven's eyes narrowed as he looked up.
A pack of monstrous flying lizards glided lazily in the skies above. Some flew in circles. Others clung to the rocky cliffside, screeching quietly.
"Strange…" Raven muttered. "I see a lot more wyverns."
Beside him, Jovie's pupils glinted blue as she activated a detection skill.
She peered into the distance for a long moment before finally speaking.
"They are not Wyverns but Wyrms. Although a dozen Wyrms seem to have joined the pack, they are not Rank-3 Magical Beasts."
Raven nodded, but his expression remained grim.
As they spoke, movement stirred from the center of the convoy.
Nash and the four other Expert Knights had begun changing into different armor.
They removed their standard silver and black sets and donned full emerald-colored armor instead. Everything gleamed beneath the sun, from helms to boots, pendants to rings. Their weapons were also changed—new blades and spears engraved with complex runes and glowing enchantments.
After a brief look, Raven took the monocle from his inventory, put it on his left eye, and activated it discreetly.
Stats and descriptions appeared before his eyes.
'Oh? Protective spells like Stonewall Skin and Ward of Warding are engraved into chestplates… Feather Steps, Blink, and Lightning Flash embedded into rings and boots… weapons are enchanted with Sharpness, Bloodbane, and even minor Curse Runes…'
His eyes flicked up to the helmets.
'Eagle's Sight. Piercing Gaze. Whisper Sense. Clarity of Thoughts…'
Raven's brows lifted slightly. 'So this is the power of full Rare-grade Aether Sets…'
Then came Nash's voice, firm and commanding.
"Radiant Knights! Focus on protecting Lord Count from the Lesser Wyrms!"
He unsheathed his long sword and pointed it toward the valley.
"Dear Wizards," he added, turning to the three Expert Mages behind Count Alden, "please cast spells on the Wyverns and cripple them when they try to escape."
The Wizards gave a silent nod.
Without another word, Nash and the other four Expert Knights dashed forward, leading the charge towards the hill on the right side.
Nash moved four hundred meters ahead of the convoy, his boots landing precisely on the sloped terrain.
From the edge of a shallow ridge, he paused and looked down. A massive canyon sprawled before him, cracked and uneven, filled with sharp rocks and dust clouds rising with every breeze.
His eyes drifted right.
A jagged hill rose above the canyon wall like a crooked fang. Dozens of flying creatures perched on the crags and ledges—Wyrms. Some hovered lazily in the sky, their wings stretched wide, screeching to mark territory.
Two nest-like structures were built on flattened cliff parts, each separated by around two hundred meters. A Wyvern sat curled around something large and pale in the nearest one.
Nash narrowed his eyes. The monocle in his helm flickered softly as it zoomed in.
Three large eggs—each nearly the size of a carriage—sat inside the nest.
A smirk slowly formed on his face.
'Wyvern eggs... so that's why they're staying grounded.'
The two Wyverns near the nests kept their heads low, wings folded, watching over the eggs like sleeping dragons. The Wyrms around them didn't dare get too close, guarding the perimeter like disciplined sentinels.
Further back, three more Wyverns stood on the tallest rocks a few hundred meters beyond the nests. They seemed half-asleep, occasionally glancing toward the hill, but didn't move.
Without hesitation, Nash touched his armor and activated the protective rune.
"Kael, Veyra, Doran, Elion," he said in a calm, clipped tone. "We're using the Split Strategy. Get the Wizards in position and wait. I'll move first."
Then, he moved.
In one breath, Nash vanished from the ridgeline and reappeared halfway up the hill, dashing at an inhuman speed. The moment his foot left the rock, he activated a skill.
"Feather Steps."
A faint shimmer pulsed beneath him.
The air hardened momentarily, becoming solid enough to bear his weight. He stepped again—this time two meters higher—then again, and again. Each leap took him further into the sky, almost gliding as he sprinted on invisible stairs.
The wind howled around him. Rocks and dirt flew past. The hill blurred below.
High above, the Wyrms reacted.
Their screeches grew sharper. Wings flapped violently.
A heartbeat later, they spotted him.
The nearest Wyverns raised their heads. One hissed, its throat bulging slightly, nostrils flaring. The other flapped once, shifting its weight.
Farther away, the three resting Wyverns glanced toward the commotion but didn't move.
"Tch." Nash pulled a long spear from his spatial ring.
A blood-red aura flared to life around it—Advanced Aura, compressed and sharpened into a deadly coil. His arm tensed.
He hurled the spear straight at the nearer Wyvern with a single breath.
The air cracked.
The aura-coated spear cut through the wind like a bolt of red lightning, aimed directly at the Wyvern's head. It screeched and twisted, flapping its wings in a panic. The beast shot upward, then veered left to avoid the projectile.
But at the last second, a strange gust of wind pushed from the left.
It was a wind spell!
The spear deflected slightly mid-air, just enough.
Instead of piercing the Wyvern's eye, it grazed its neck and continued toward the nest. A split-second later, a wet crunch echoed across the hill.
The spear smashed through all three eggs.
The Wyvern shrieked—high-pitched and furious!
Its body tensed, and the next moment, it lunged forward, wings wide, eyes blazing with hatred.
The second Wyvern followed half a beat later, its cry a raw blend of rage and sorrow. Both beasts took off toward Nash, while the one in front let out a guttural screech toward the three in the distance.
A signal.
Now, five Wyverns were in play.
But Nash was already in motion.
As the enraged beasts stormed toward him, he twisted in the air, flipped backward once, and launched himself away from the hilltop.
His cloak snapped behind him as he landed smoothly on another air step—his speed unhindered.
Below, the four Expert Knights were already moving into their assigned formations.
Nash shot from the tree line like a loaded arrow, boots skimming the uneven ground. The forest blurred around him. Behind, two wyverns took to the sky, their enormous wings tearing the air apart with every beat.
The first to reach was the wounded one, over four meters tall and eight meters long, its neck marked by a brutal gash. Its wings stretched wide, casting a shifting shadow that swallowed the trees beneath.
Nash didn't slow.
A blur crossed his side—Kael.
His boots ignited mid-air.
Flame Leap Skill.
Fire erupted from beneath as he rocketed upward, rising past Nash like a missile. In one clean motion, his broadsword ignited. Flames wrapped around the weapon like a coiled serpent.
He appeared above the wyvern's head the next moment.
Then came the devastating strike.
Steel slammed into the scaled skull, and a dull thud rang out. Fire burst outward in a spiral, momentarily engulfing the wyvern's crown. The beast roared, shaken—dazed but alive.
A second flash.
Veyra stepped through the shadow.
She emerged at the beast's left flank, driving her spear through its eye. No pause. No cry. Just a clean thrust—straight and deep. The wyvern jerked, disoriented.
Its right eye lit up—too late.
Elion blinked in like a ghost. His blade stabbed through the socket before the beast could react. It screamed—a long, broken screech.
Three seconds. Both of its eyes were gone.
It tried to take off, flapping its Wings.
But a black-haired wizard with amber eyes raised his hand and cast a spell.
The air twisted.
Mist gathered, and Water swirled. Then froze mid-motion, forming jagged chains of translucent blue. They wrapped around the beast's limbs, shoulders, and wings—then hardened with a crack. The wyvern buckled and bound.
But it was just the start.
The second one arrived.
It landed hard, talons digging into the earth. Its jaw opened wide, throat glowing orange.