CHAPTER 252: CHAPTER 251: THE HUNT REVERSED

The informer lowered his head, saying nothing. He had seen this look before, Torvald’s obsession burning hotter than reason.

"Gather the men," Torvald ordered coldly. "We ride tonight."

And with that, Torvald strode from the room, cloak snapping behind him, his mind already savoring the vengeance he believed was finally within his grasp.

...

The sun dipped low, spilling orange light across the trees as Lumberling and Liraeth’s group slowed to make camp. The soldiers busied themselves with gathering firewood and setting tents, their chatter low and routine.

But Lumberling’s steps faltered. A prickle ran down his spine, an instinct honed by battles and near-deaths. His hand tightened around the haft of his spear.

Something wasn’t right.

He scanned the treeline, every rustle of leaves too sharp in his ears. Without his golden eagles, he couldn’t confirm it, but the weight of unseen eyes pressed against his back.

He raised his weapon, voice steady but low. "Someone’s watching us."

Liraeth turned toward him, brows furrowing. "Something wrong, Lumberling?"

"We’re being followed," he said, eyes still on the trees. "Prepare your men to engage."

She stiffened, a mix of doubt and trust flickering in her gaze. "Here? This far from the capital? There shouldn’t be bandits..."

But she didn’t argue further. With a sharp gesture, she called her soldiers to formation, their armor clinking as they drew blades and raised shields.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. Then...

The first arrow hissed through the air, burying itself in the dirt at Liraeth’s feet.

"Shields!" she barked, and the soldiers snapped into a defensive line.

Figures broke from the treeline, armored men surging forward. They weren’t bandits, their polished mail glinted even in the fading light, and their tabards bore a familiar crest.

Lumberling’s eyes narrowed as he recognized it. A crimson wolf, maw open in mid-snarl.

That emblem.

A memory flickered, of that nobleman they had met upon first arriving in Liraeth’s territory. He could still picture it clearly, the moment Skitz’s fist crashed against the man’s face.

’So it was him.’

Instead of anger, a sharp grin tugged at Lumberling’s lips.

Without waiting any second, he surged forward, spear gleaming as he closed the distance. The first armored soldier barely had time to raise his shield before Lumberling’s strike shattered through his guard and sent him crashing to the ground.

Steel clashed, cries rang out, and in the growing chaos, Lumberling’s smirk only deepened.

The hunt had begun.

Without slowing, Lumberling flowed into the next strike. His spear spun in a blur, slipping past a soldier’s sword and piercing his chestplate clean through. Another lunged at him from the side, but with a twist of his wrist, Lumberling’s weapon hooked the man’s leg and swept him to the ground before the tip ended him.

Shields splintered, blades rang uselessly against him, and one by one the soldiers fell like wheat before the scythe.

Not a single one could halt his advance.

.....

On the other side of the clash, Torvald stepped from behind his lines, draped in a fine cloak, a smirk tugging at his lips. At his side strode his personal Knight, armor polished, blade already drawn.

Liraeth’s eyes narrowed as the baron approached with swagger in every step.

"How have you been, Lady Liraeth?" Torvald drawled, his tone mocking politeness.

Her voice cut back. "What is the meaning of this, Baron Torvald? Are you openly declaring war against me?"

He chuckled low, shaking his head. "War? There is now war since no one will know what happens here. You were foolish to travel without your Knights." His smirk widened, teeth flashing.

At his signal, his personal Knight surged forward, cutting down the soldiers who dared to block his path. Steel rang and blood splattered as Liraeth’s guards fell one after another.

Liraeth’s fists clenched, her teeth grinding as she watched them die in vain. Rage boiled in her chest, but so too did a bitter truth, without her sworn Knights, she was powerless against this kind of strength.

Torvald threw his head back and laughed, the sound twisted and manic. "At last! Liraeth, no matter how many times you spurn me, I’ll have you. You’re mine! WHAHAHA!" He reached toward her, eyes gleaming with triumph...

and then froze.

A strange sensation spread through his arm. He blinked, confused. His hand... wasn’t there.

Cleanly severed, both his arms slipped from his shoulders and fell soundlessly to the dirt. For a moment his brain refused to accept it. Then the agony slammed into him all at once.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Torvald’s scream tore through the battlefield as he collapsed, writhing on the ground.

Beside Liraeth, a calm voice spoke.

"Hey there. We meet again."

Lumberling stood at her side, spear still humming with the echo of the strike, his eyes cool and detached.

Torvald writhed, his face twisting in rage and terror, until his gaze locked onto Lumberling’s. Recognition flared, along with hatred.

"UGGHHHH, YOU... YOU BASTARD! I’LL..."

The words were cut short as Lumberling’s boot smashed into his jaw with brutal force.

The baron’s body flew back like a ragdoll, crashing into the dirt. His soldiers and even his Knight froze, eyes wide, staring at the man who had just disarmed, literally, their lord in a blink.

Soldiers froze mid-stride, eyes wide, the color draining from their faces. The weight of Lumberling’s presence pressing over them like a storm.

Liraeth’s lips parted, shock rooting her where she stood. She had seen Lumberling strike before, but never with such cold, absolute finality.

"My lord!"

The shout rose as Torvald’s soldiers rushed forward, some scrambling to protect their bleeding master, others charging straight for Lumberling.

"Lumberling, watch out!" Liraeth cried, her heart pounding.

But Lumberling only glanced at her, his expression calm, almost gentle. "Don’t worry. I can handle this. Just stay where you are." His voice was steady, and his smile carried a warmth that steadied her.

Relief washed over Liraeth at the sight of him, though her chest still tightened with worry. Torvald had come prepared, nearly a hundred soldiers in polished armor, and among them, a handful of Knights. To her, it felt overwhelming.

But to Lumberling, it barely seemed worth a thought.

If there had been a thousand, perhaps he would have worried about protecting her while fighting. But a hundred, with only one True Knight among them?