Chapter Thirty-One: A Comparison of Figures

“Hm? Veil, whatever you want to say, can we wait until we’ve left this dangerous place first?” Semili was momentarily stunned by Veil’s words, but the thought of hundreds, maybe thousands, of Storm Howl Wolves lurking not far away left him in no mood to dwell on it. He tossed out this perfunctory reply and immediately called for everyone to prepare to withdraw.

“Semili! Don’t you think it’s odd? Why have those wolves gathered for so long without taking any action? According to Robbie, the wolves have someone surrounded. Normally, a magical beast attacking humans isn’t anything unusual, but considering the habits of Storm Howl Wolves, isn’t a gathering of this size far too strange?” Veil stopped the fair-faced youth, lowered his voice, and murmured in his ear.

“You mean…?” Semili wasn’t stupid. He quickly grasped Veil’s point, frowning slightly as he replied, “Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? We know nothing about the situation. Maybe it’s just a regular merchant caravan that’s been surrounded?”

“A regular caravan? The nearest city from the Imperial Capital is only three days’ journey, so the caravans never carry much. Even the largest ones have at most ten wagons and a dozen or twenty guards—fifty people at most. Would such a small group attract the attention of so many magical beasts? And, Semili, do you honestly believe the Earl would return alone from outside the city?” Veil pressed.

“Uh!” Semili was struck by a sudden realization. Indeed, the parchment they’d received from Master Macro Jack hadn’t specified whether the Earl was traveling with an entourage, but surely an Earl of such stature wouldn’t journey alone, especially with this mission involving the greatest powers of the Empire. How could the Earl not treat it with utmost seriousness?

“So, what do you think we should do now?” Despite Veil being even younger than himself, Semili found his composure in crisis unnerving—more mature even than some adults. For a moment, Semili forgot their age difference entirely and instinctively asked Veil as if he were a peer.

“Have Robbie and his men scout ahead. Let’s go and see for ourselves,” Veil replied.

Semili nodded and immediately signaled for Lise and the others to press forward, leaving behind the few magicians whose legs had gone so weak they could no longer walk. There was no choice but to abandon them for now.

They pushed through a thicket of dense underbrush, the howls of wolves growing ever clearer to their ears. Soon, amid the night, they even heard the anguished shouts and sounds of battle from humans! Not far ahead, strange flashes of light flickered in the dark—familiar glows to Robbie and his companions, who immediately whispered, “Soulcasters!”

Encouraged, Semili and the others quickened their pace. In moments, they emerged from the brush and were confronted by a grisly, blood-soaked scene.

Hundreds upon hundreds of Storm Howl Wolves had encircled a company of two hundred men. The sheer mass of wolves was enough to make one’s blood run cold—an endless, snarling sea. The wolves’ howls pierced the air as red-eyed, starving beasts relentlessly attacked the humans. At one point, a Storm Howl Wolf leapt nearly two meters high, pouncing upon a man and tearing out his throat in a spray of blood. A nearby soulcaster reacted instantly, bellowing as a giant brown bear emblem flared to life on his body. A surge of earthen energy encircled his arms, and with one punch he smashed the wolf’s head to pulp, brains and blood spattering his face. The soulcaster paid no heed, the blood seeming only to fuel his frenzy as he continued swinging at the wolves before him. He crushed the skulls of three more, but was finally overwhelmed by four wolves at once and ripped apart.

Scenes like this played out everywhere. Soulcasters’ bodies and wolf carcasses littered the ground; human blood mingled with wolf blood, soaking the earth in crimson. Though it was still night, the pale moonlight made the scarlet stains all the more jarring to the eye.

A cool night breeze brought with it the stench of blood. These magicians were no strangers to killing, but none had ever witnessed such carnage. Swallowing nausea, they turned their eyes to Semili, awaiting his command.

Semili himself was faring little better, fighting off waves of queasiness as his eyes continually scanned the embattled crowd, searching for his target.

The wolves pressed their attack. Though the group of two hundred included no small number of soulcasters, the sheer ferocity and numbers of Storm Howl Wolves relentlessly cut them down. In mere moments, their numbers had been halved—less than a hundred now remained alive amidst the slaughter.

Just then, a figure descended from a carriage at the very center of the embattled group. In the dim moonlight, his outline was barely visible—he seemed, perhaps, to be a corpulent man.

When Semili saw this figure, a strange light flashed in his eyes. He turned to Veil and said, “It is indeed the Earl.”

“You’re sure?” Veil followed Semili’s gaze. The fat man stood at the very heart of the group, surrounded and protected by all. His status was beyond doubt. Still, Veil found it odd—could that plump, round man truly be Lord Charlesburg, the head of House Charlesburg and Weiling’s father? Comparing Weiling’s petite, lovely figure with her father’s rotund bulk, Veil’s mouth twitched involuntarily—what a difference!

“Of course! I saw the emblem on the carriage clearly—it’s definitely the Earl!” Semili’s expression grew grave as he called out urgently to Robbie and the others, “Robbie! We’ll open a path through the wolves with our magic from the rear. You and your men go ahead and protect us as we charge to the Earl. Can you do it?”

“No problem! Even if I die, I’ll get you there!” Robbie, every inch the stalwart, thumped his chest and shouted his assurance.