CHAPTER 540: ENCOUNTER WITH AN OLD FRIEND

After braving the perilous ridge, they descended into the gentle slopes of the lesser Mount Etna — a modest peak compared to the towering majesty of Ourea, yet formidable in its own right. From Calma, Etna appeared merely as a distant silhouette, its view obscured by Ourea’s immense slopes. But from Zura, the mountain revealed its full grandeur: a vast, sprawling base and peak scarred by ancient craters, each one transformed over centuries into tranquil lakes that mirrored the pale sky. Etna had long since fallen silent — an ancient volcano slumbering for over five hundred years, its fury forgotten by time.

After crossing, the Zuran commander lifted his hand, commanding to blow up the ridge. Two soldiers stepped forward, carrying barrels of gunpowder. Moments later, a thunderous explosion shattered the stillness. The blast rolled through the mountains like a furious echo of Etna’s lost eruptions, sending flocks of birds spiraling into the sky and driving wild creatures into panicked flight.

When the rumbling finally faded and the dust began to settle, Lara saw the ridge — once their only path — reduced to a jagged ruin. The route was gone, buried beneath stone and smoke. Anyone who tried to reach her now would have to find another way, a longer, harder path that would cost them precious time.

Two dozen elite Zuran soldiers waited in the shadows of Mount Etna. While they stood in plain sight waiting for the other party, Lara could sense that there were more. Their dark armor blended seamlessly with the foliage, their presence betrayed only by the faint rustle of leaves and the glint of steel between the trees.

Lara felt them before she saw them — the heavy air thick with tension, the silent watchfulness of predators waiting for their prey.

She smirked. So, General Turik truly went to such lengths... all this just to capture me — and to ensnare Alaric and my father as well.

From behind the rigid line of soldiers, a man emerged — tall, broad-shouldered, encased in blackened armor that gleamed like obsidian. His very presence seemed to warp the air around him, emanating a dangerous, suffocating aura. The commander beside Lara immediately bowed low.

The commander who was with Lara bowed to the man.

"Greetings, General Tyron."

Tyron’s gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate. His eyes — cold, black, and sharp as blades — lingered on her face, and something dark flickered there, a glint of cruel amusement and something darker — lust.

"The rumor is indeed true," he murmured. "The daughter of General Odin is not just beautiful, but extremely beautiful. Long and black lashes that looked like small fans, lips that begged to be kissed, and flawless skin."

He reached out, fingers outstretched toward her cheek.

A chill rippled through Lara’s body. She stepped aside, her movements precise and controlled, and Tyron’s hand cut through empty air.

His expression hardened. "How dare you flinch from my touch? Do you resent me?" His deep voice boomed like thunder across the clearing, making even his men stiffen.

Lara met his glare, her tone calm but edged with iron. "My face, General Tyron, is not worthy of your touch."

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound. "Feisty. Just like your father... and your brothers. Calm and fearless even in the face of danger. I like that."

He stepped closer, reaching for her again, but she moved swiftly — another sidestep, fluid as water. His patience snapped.

"Seize her!" he roared.

Several soldiers surged forward. But before any could reach her, a sound split the air — a primal, bone-rattling roar that echoed from atop a massive boulder.

A blur of orange and black streaked through the air, colliding with the soldiers in a violent storm of claws and teeth.

"AAAHHHH!"

"Thunder!" The man’s shout drowned Lara’s voice, and yet the tiger’s ears flicked in recognition.

The nearest soldier to Lara screamed as massive jaws clamped onto his neck. His body went limp, collapsing in a pool of crimson before he even hit the ground.

Lara seized the moment. She twisted her wrists, snapping free of the ropes that bound her, then snatched the fallen man’s sword. The blade was heavy, but it weighed like paper in Lara’s grip.

Steel clashed, men shouted, and blood spattered the forest floor. The tiger — Thunder — fought like a living flame, tearing through armor and flesh alike. But even its strength began to wane, its movements slowing, chest heaving.

An arrow whistled through the air — aimed straight for the beast. Lara swung her sword, deflecting it with a sharp clang.

"Thunder, Go!" she cried.

The tiger hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes flashing toward her. Lara leapt onto the boulder, and Thunder followed, muscles coiling. In an instant, both vanished into the cave hidden behind the boulder — swift as wind, leaving only silence and blood in their wake.

"Damn it!" Tyron snarled, his boot slamming into the corpse of his fallen soldier. The body rolled limply to the side as the general’s fury echoed through the shattered clearing.

"Hurry and chase after her. We could not afford to lose her." Tyron shouted, his fury flared as he leaped into the air and landed on top of the boulder.

Lara followed Thunder into the mouth of the cave. The moment they stepped inside, the light from the outside world dimmed, swallowed by shadows that thickened with every step. The air grew colder, damp, and heavy with the smell of earth and moss. Soon, the darkness became absolute — a living, breathing thing pressing against her skin.

She stretched her hand instinctively toward her back, but her fingers met only empty air. The realization hit her like a sting.

Those damned soldiers took my backpack.

Her supplies, her torch — everything gone.

As her eyes slowly adjusted, faint outlines began to take shape: the rough walls glistening with moisture, Thunder’s striped flank brushing against her side. She reached out, fingers sinking into his fur, using his warmth as her guide through the dark.

"It’s been a long time, Thunder," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, softened by affection. "How are you, old friend?"

Thunder let out a low whimper, a sound that was both comforting and mournful — his way of saying he was still there, still loyal.

Outside, at the cave’s entrance, General Tyron stood with his soldiers. The cave yawned before them like the mouth of a sleeping beast. He narrowed his eyes, thinking.

"These tunnels only have two exits large enough for a human," he said at last, his tone calm but edged with menace. "We’ll block both. When she comes out, we’ll be waiting — to give her a grand welcome."