CHAPTER 39: THE BATTLE OF INVICTUS (3)

At the top of the fortress hierarchy stood Major Kraft, an Enforcer of Master rank, followed by two Intermediate Enforcers: Captain Bernard and Captain Grégoire. The rest of Invictus’ forces were composed of Enforcers bearing the rank of Initiate.

The wall was already showing cracks. If it had only been one Initiate, the makeshift structure wouldn’t have even trembled. But it wasn’t one, nor ten, nor even a hundred—it was well over a thousand now, and their numbers kept growing as more reached the wide gates.

Unsurprisingly, the wall couldn’t hold for long, but it lasted just enough for the Enforcers to form a proper formation.

Captain Bernard had immediately assessed that they were outnumbered by far, and that fighting without strategy would lead to devastating losses on their side.

If he’d had a choice, he would have prevented the confrontation altogether.

Various weapons were available within the fortress, designed to counter every type of pest, and there was no shortage of shields.

The Enforcers had been equipped with sturdy shields and formed a tight wall.

When the parasitized Initiates launched another assault, not a single Enforcer fell back. This wasn’t a single defensive line, but rather several stacked one behind the other, designed to absorb the blow. Even those in the back supported the ones on the front lines.

At first, the parasitized Initiates had no formation and acted in complete chaos. While this increased their destructive potential, it left them vulnerable to a well-coordinated defense. Various rotations were organized between those in front and those behind, allowing them to preserve their energy. The captain had been clear: this would be a marathon.

After noticing a semblance of order returning to the battle, Bernard glanced back. He saw that the Major had already subdued Grégoire, though the solution was only temporary.

Upon Bernard’s arrival, the Major promptly congratulated him, acknowledging his performance:

"Good reaction!"

"Ho ho ho, I don’t deserve such praise," Bernard replied, twirling his mustache before adding in a more serious tone:

"And besides, it won’t be enough. We can’t hold off so many if we only stay on the defensive. Unless we find a way to understand what happened to them, we should consider using the canals and letting the men kill."

The Major considered the offer but couldn’t bring himself to implement it. "If the situation demands it, we’ll resort to it. But for now, we must avoid unnecessary losses as much as possible."

"Yes, sir."

"These recruits were supposed to strengthen us, not the other way around," the Major murmured.

"Major, with all due respect, don’t you think the pests are behind such a reversal of the situation?" Bernard suggested.

"I have no doubt," the Major affirmed, fists clenched with anger.

He didn’t like the situation one bit.

He grabbed Grégoire, strangling him with one hand as he shouted:

"What the hell happened to you?"

He stared into Grégoire’s eyes, looking for any anomaly.

But Grégoire stared right back. That look... he recognized it. It was the same he showed toward a pest—disgusting.

Grégoire forced his mouth open despite the grip squeezing his throat: "Filthy pest... you will soon witness the Emperor’s retribution..."

he hissed before spitting straight in the Major’s face.

As they say—even if you lose, at least you can spit in your enemy’s face.

It’s a courtesy one allows oneself before a shameful death.

Annoyed by such a response, the Major wiped the spit with the back of his hand before slamming his fist into Grégoire’s face. But to his surprise, even with his nose shattered, Grégoire’s eyes showed no regret.

On the contrary, he let out a crude laugh, mocking their efforts.

Even more disheartened, the Major asked Bernard to lock him in a special cell until this matter was resolved, as Grégoire seemed immune to pain.

Bernard handled it by using his resonance to bury Grégoire under a layer of cement while waiting for two Executors to come and transport him.

Left alone at the rear of the battle, neither the Major nor Bernard made a move to participate.

Though their intervention could have helped their men, it wouldn’t have changed the overall situation.

Bernard carefully observed the attackers’ behavior, using this moment of calm to share his deductions with the Major:

"Ho ho ho... judging by their behavior, they must be under some kind of illusion or hypnosis,"

he deduced, before recalling the scene with Grégoire and adding:

"No... it’s more like control. They look drugged."

Some of the more savage ones had swollen, red eyes—possibly a side effect.

"We could try to neutralize the control one by one, but it would be long and painful, and the results aren’t guaranteed.

The fastest way would be to find the head pest and rip it off,"

he concluded.

The Major was on the same wavelength.

"Those insects... they were scheming something. But I didn’t expect this,"

he realized, then finally made his decision.

"Bernard, I’m leaving this to you. Those pests can’t be far. The moment they show their heads..."

He didn’t finish his sentence, but the tone in his voice was enough for Bernard to understand what had to be done.

And so, the two waited for their enemy’s next move to flush them out... unaware that they were already in the palm of the pest’s hand.

---

Meanwhile, in an old cave, several insect body parts were scattered in total disarray, as if someone had chewed them up before spitting out the remains, finding them distasteful. These traces formed a path leading deeper into the cave, where a vast cavern opened.

At its center lay a giant serpent—over five meters wide and as long as a football field. This serpent was covered in an exoskeleton similar to that of a grasshopper, made of multiple pieces fitted together like a mosaic. Its green color starkly contrasted with the alabaster walls of the cavern.

The serpent seemed to be coiled around a larva suspended by a spider’s thread. It flicked out its long tongue, hissing:

"Count Mephisto, it seems our prey decided to wait for us rather than rush to their doom..."

It lifted its massive head, glancing back at the mangled remains.

"I went to so much trouble to prepare them a banquet... It’s rather sad that my kindness was brushed aside so callously."

The larva in the center mumbled, as if it shared the same sentiment.

"Humans have always been this way, Count Albart... so entertaining,"

came a voice that echoed from all around, with no clear direction.

Then the same voice added in a childlike tone:

"That’s why I love them so much: they make the best pawns."