CHAPTER 68: VARNACITE VEIN [3]

The Next Morning...

Alaric stood where they’d been told, same route, same black cloak wrapped around his frame.

Sari stood a few paces beside him, her hood up, her hands loosely clasped in front of her. Neither spoke.

There was no need.

He glanced up once at the cloud-laden sky, then back to the road. A part of him hoped the wagon might be late, just enough to steal a few more moments of silence before the march into the unknown. But it wasn’t.

Wheels creaked in the distance. A moment later, the covered wagon came into view, pulled by a pair of steady-footed horses. No heralds. No banners. Just practicality.

He climbed into the wagon first, then offered his hand to help Sari up, a gesture she accepted with a slight nod that somehow conveyed both gratitude and mild amusement at his courtesy.

The wagon lurched into motion, Alaric let his eyes fall half-shut

The town faded behind them. The trees thickened, canopy growing darker the deeper they went. Alaric watched it grow larger through the wagon’s small window, and with each passing moment.

As their wagon approached, Alaric could see the cluster of figures already gathered: nobles on horseback, retainers checking equipment, and the distinctive silhouettes of mining experts with their leather satchels and surveying tools.

Then the wagon finally stopped at the forest’s edge, Alaric stepped down first, cloak catching in the breeze. Sari followed silently, her gaze scanning the surroundings with that same calm watchfulness.

Up ahead, few seats had already been set under a large oak tree.

Selene sat at the center, legs crossed, elegant even in travelwear.

Beside her, Duke Garran leaned on his cane, watching something in the distance with narrowed eyes.

Elira was there too, her pale braid flicked over one shoulder.

Varell sat with arms folded. Count Casten was last, his expression unreadable.

Selene glanced up as Alaric and Sari approached, her lips curving into a smile.

"Both of you’ll accompany Master Henrik and his team." She gestured toward a cluster of men near the forest edge.

"Understood," Alaric said simply, inclining his head in acknowledgment.

Then, without another word, he and Sari turned to follow the group.

The forest loomed ahead. The sunlight barely filtered through the thick boughs, casting green shadows across the uneven dirt trail.

Master Henrik led the way, his thick shoulders and barrel chest speaking of decades spent in cramped mine shafts and stone quarries

A few younger men trailed behind him, representatives from the three noble houses, each marked subtly with the insignias stitched onto their tunics.

Alaric kept to the edge of the group, walking beside Sari.

They’d been walking for perhaps an hour. Then—

The first signs of tension began to surface.

"I told you the maps were off. We’re not even heading toward the original mark!"

One of the Stonevile men was saying, his voice carrying more clearly than he probably intended.

"Master Korven’s measurements don’t match what we’re seeing on the ground."

Henrik’s pace slowed almost imperceptibly.

"The surveys were thorough," replied a voice from the Blackthorn contingent, younger but no less certain. "Perhaps Stonevile’s methods need updating."

The Stonevile representative stopped walking entirely. "Updating?" His voice carried the particular edge that came when a man’s expertise was questioned in front of his peers.

"Korven has been surveying mineral deposits since before your ’thorough’ surveyors learned to hold a measuring rod."

Master Henrik turned slowly, "Gentlemen," Henrik said, his voice carrying the authority of experience, "Perhaps we should examine the site before debating the accuracy of measurements taken from maps."

But the damage was already done.

Then he exhaled through his nose. "We’ll rest ahead for a short while. Then push through."

Just as the group began to move again, a low rumble echoed through the trees.

Everyone stilled.

A second roar followed, closer and deeper.

Dry leaves crunched under shifting feet. The forest, once filled with birdsong and distant rustle, fell into a silence.

The fuck, now.

Alaric cursed turning his head around.

The guards moved first. Steel hissed free of scabbards as they stepped forward, forming a defensive arc around their respective charges.

Stonevile’s men behind their guards, Redtrail’s contingent clustering near their escort, Blackthorn’s representatives finding themselves sheltered by their seasoned swordsmen whose scarred hands spoke of countless battles.

Sari straightened beside Alaric.

Gone was the quiet companion; in her place stood a predator, every line of her body coiled for violence. Her blade appeared in her hand as if it had materialized from shadow itself, and she shifted to place herself between Alaric and the direction of the sound.

But Alaric found himself studying the guards rather than searching for threats. His eyes moved from face to face, the way the guards moved. Nervous. Sloppy footwork. Tight grips.

They’re mostly D-rank. Maybe a few C... he thought, brows narrowing.

Too weak if this was what he suspected.

Then another roar came, this one close enough to feel in the ribs.

A branch snapped in the underbrush.

Then all at once, they surged in, shapes breaking through the ferns and brambles like a wave crashing through brittle reeds.

Beasts. At least twenty.

No, more.

Low-slung bodies with mottled hides and fangs like chipped iron.

Their eyes glinted with the unnatural brightness of hunger. Some moved on four limbs, some reared on two, snarling, muscled things with talons that gleamed wet under dappled sunlight.

"Mutated Hounds?" Henrik muttered.

"Meanance class beasts," Sari whispered, under her breath.

They were stronger than normal and Feral class beast.

Though were weaker than Terror class beasts but still were dangerous enough to stir chaos or even destroy villages and towns.

These beasts usually moved in group.

True to their motto, ’Unity is strength.’

Usually, it requires handful of C class Awakeners to tackle the Meanance Class beast’s horde.

But right now, there were just around ten guards.

And they knew, they were fucked up.

One had already stumbled back, blade shaking in his grip. Another cursed under his breath and shifted closer to the man beside him, defending, but clearly hoping to survive more than anything.

The beasts growled in unison, forming their own kind of formation now, spreading to encircle.

One of the guards shouted, "Form up! Don’t let them flank!"

But they already were.

Just as beasts moved.

[Try not to die, host.]

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Chapter End!

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[A/N]

Yo guys, how it’s been. If you are enjoying the story, do give ps.

I’ll be updating 1 extra chap every 200 ps. (Yeh, bit much. But a man can dream big, ryt?)

And 1 for every 50 GT.