{Chapter: 225: Fishing}
The carriage near Bensecker and his group, the one housing their employer, remained unusually still amidst the tension in the camp.
Inside, a middle-aged man gripped his weapon tightly, mirroring the wary posture of the guards outside. His eyes remained locked on the empty sky where the Cloud-Winged Eagle had vanished mere moments ago.
Like the others, he was stunned by the creature's abrupt disappearance. Based on everything he knew, Cloud-Winged Eagles were high-altitude predators, powerful but not known for spatial abilities. This was outside the norm.
His heartbeat quickened. A dark possibility crept into his mind, one that made his stomach churn.
"Could it be… this wasn't a random monster attack?"
"Was someone testing us?"
The realization hit him like a hammer. His face tightened, his brows furrowed into a deep scowl. With a sudden burst of frustration, he kicked the man crouched beside him, a man who had been trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible during the commotion.
"You damn fool," he hissed, voice low and venomous. "We might be in serious trouble. You'd better pray you can handle the consequences of leaking that information."
The man who'd been kicked raised his head, his face pale and pitiful. His mouth trembled as he tried to offer a meek explanation. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk at the time…"
It might've been better if he'd stayed silent. His words only fueled the older man's fury. Seeing the pathetic look on his face—the slouched shoulders, the sheepish eyes—was like salt on a wound.
"Shut up, you idiot," the older man snapped. "If this spirals out of control, I'll leave you here without hesitation. You're on your own."
With that, he turned away, returning his focus to scanning the horizon. Whatever sympathy he might have once had was now buried beneath layers of fear and resentment.
The scolded man slowly picked himself up from the floor, brushing off his clothes as he stood in silence. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from a turbulent mix of regret and rising anger. He hated himself for making such a foolish mistake, for talking recklessly after a few drinks. But more than that, he was furious at the callous way his brother treated him—as if all the blame lay solely on his shoulders.
Because yes—these two were blood brothers.
They came from a modest noble house. Their family name carried weight once, but over the years, it had dulled to a whisper of what it once was. Still, thanks to the inheritance left behind by their ancestors, they had managed to live comfortably, if not lavishly. They didn't have power, but they had enough to indulge in the vices of nobility: wine, women, gambling, and the occasional bout of meaningless vanity.
That changed the day they stumbled across a secret letter buried in the back of an old warehouse—an inheritance from generations past. The letter wasn't ordinary; it was handwritten in their ancestor's distinct scrawl, sealed with a crest they hadn't seen since childhood.
Inside were stories and confessions. The truth about how their family had risen to nobility through incredible feats, dangerous alliances, and possibly forbidden magic. But beyond the history, there was something else.
A treasure.
Their ancestor had left behind a legacy—wealth and power unimaginable—but locked behind a deadly trial. A trial designed to weed out the unworthy. A test that could only be taken by one descendant at a time. And failure meant death.
The moment they read it, the two brothers were electrified. It was like something out of a storybook. They had visions of restoring their family to glory, reclaiming a place in the upper echelons of society, perhaps even becoming the heroes of a new age.
But when they read the fine print—the brutal conditions of the trial, the certainty of death for those who lacked talent or strength—their enthusiasm withered. It turned out they were no heroes. The idea of dying in some dusty ruin for a maybe was far less appealing than warm baths and expensive drinks.
So they buried the letter again, deep in the warehouse where no one would think to look. They agreed it was better left for a future generation—someone smarter, stronger, braver. Someone who deserved the inheritance.
In the meantime, they returned to their usual lives, doing what they did best: wasting time and fortune.
Yet despite their efforts to forget, the knowledge haunted them. The fact that something so monumental lay just beyond their reach—so close they could almost taste it—gnawed at their souls. They began drinking even more, not for pleasure, but to drown the bitterness of missed opportunity. Even though, in truth, they'd always drunk far too much, whether they had regrets or not.
Nm MmmDuring one of their routine drinking gatherings, as was common in their lives of leisure, one of the brothers had a little too much to drink and let the secret slip from his loose lips. His words, slurred and careless, were intended only as drunken boasting, but they fell upon ears that were far from indifferent.
As the old saying goes: "The speaker may not mean it, but the listener may take it seriously." And in this case, someone did.
Just two or three days later, unusual signs began to appear. Strangers—suspicious and unfamiliar—started wandering near their estate. At first, it was subtle: passersby who seemed too curious, unfamiliar faces lingering too long in the same spots. Then came the harassment—property being tampered with, messengers being delayed or intercepted, and servants growing fearful and restless.
Alarmed, the elder brother confronted the younger, demanding to know what he had done and whom he had spoken to. Faced with his brother's burning gaze and the increasingly disturbing circumstances, the younger brother no longer had the courage to lie. He confessed everything.
In that moment, the brothers knew: their lives in the city were over. They hastily packed what valuables they could, leaving behind properties, businesses, and comfort. The treasure left behind by their ancestor—the one they had previously deemed too risky to claim—was now their only hope for survival.
Though their assets within the city were considerable, they paled in comparison to what the ancient strongman's inheritance might contain. That treasure, shrouded in legend and locked behind deadly trials, offered not only salvation but the possibility of glory.
During their hurried preparations, the brothers even considered a desperate alternative: selling the secret to a powerful noble in exchange for protection or rewards. But the idea quickly soured in their minds. If they presented themselves to a greedy aristocrat with a tale of hidden wealth and ancient legacy, what assurance did they have that they wouldn't be killed on the spot to keep the secret from spreading further?
No. It was far safer to vanish quietly—at least until they reached the treasure first.
Using a false identity, they made contact with a well-known mercenary group reputed for its discretion and competence. The plan was simple: let the hired swords escort them safely to the site marked in the letter, far from the prying eyes of the city.
Unfortunately for them, their every move was being watched. Those shadowy figures lurking around their home had not been idle. They had long deduced the truth of the brothers' intent, and the sudden flight only confirmed it.
What had once been uncertain speculation—"Do they really have something of value?"—was now glaringly obvious.
As the brothers slipped out of the city, thinking they had fooled their observers, their pursuers wasted no time. Though hesitant at first due to the city's magical surveillance barriers, the moment the brothers crossed its boundary, the trap was sprung.
A hunting party was dispatched immediately. Their goal was simple: intercept the convoy, seize the brothers, and slaughter everyone else involved under the guise of a bandit attack. No witnesses. No evidence. Just another tragic tale of poor travelers ambushed in the wilderness.
---
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
As the group of pursuers closed in, their malice—raw, unrestrained, and seething—spread like a foul stench. To someone like Dex, such evil intent was like a bonfire in the dead of night. He felt it before he even saw them.
And Dex, with his unbothered, almost lazy disposition, didn't care about motives. He didn't ask for names or reasons.
He simply wiped them from existence.
The assailants never saw it coming. One moment they were closing in with blades drawn and bloodlust in their hearts—and the next, they were several kilometers away, their bodies torn apart, their souls forcibly ejected from the mortal coil.
After rummaging through their memories, Dex quickly pieced together the situation. The two buffoonish brothers who had accidentally hired his team were the root of the problem.
Normally, with his easygoing nature, Dex would've dealt with them on the spot just to avoid further trouble. But then, an idea bloomed in his mind.
Back in the city of Mites, he had played the role of the peacekeeper, minding his own business and avoiding unnecessary conflict. As a result, he hadn't earned much—barely a handful of trinkets from the few fools who dared to cross him.
But now?
Now, thanks to these two walking disasters, there was a golden opportunity.
'If I keep these fools alive, I can draw out every scavenger, assassin, and desperate soul chasing after this treasure. And when they arrive... I'll take them out, one by one. Easy coin.'
Dex chuckled at the thought. A baited trap, ready to spring. And the best part? No one would blame him. When the corpses piled up, all fingers would point to the brothers—the perfect scapegoats.
With the carefree air of a fisherman casting a line into a pond of greed, Dex spared the brothers' lives.
He would keep them around.
For now.
The excitement of what was to come bubbled quietly in his chest. This was better than any game. He had no idea how many 'lucky' fools would come chasing after these two idiots, but he welcomed them all.
Each one would be another coin in his pocket.
And as for the brothers?
They had no idea that they had just become the centerpieces of a deadly game—bait for wolves.