Chapter Thirty-Eight: I Don’t Care Who You Are! (1)

Although the convoy was only a day’s journey from the imperial capital, Chelseberg still ordered them to hasten their return at the fastest possible speed, forbidding even the briefest rest along the way. Over a hundred men raced through the forest, and for reasons unknown, not even a single small beast appeared during their passage. An inexplicable sense of danger gradually spread, leaving Chelseberg, riding atop his carriage, with a grave expression.

The distance to the capital shrank ever shorter, which also meant they were drawing closer to peril. Given the terrain nearby, if the marauders did not intercept them here, their opportunity would be lost forever. As expected, the small squad Chelseberg had dispatched earlier returned bearing grim news. In fact, no report was needed; the reality was plain to see. Of the nine cavalrymen sent out, only one returned, and he was carried back by his horse, unconscious, both arms severed and his body drenched in blood.

Chelseberg stared at the fallen cavalryman, the fat at the corner of his eyes squeezed into a lump. He immediately ordered, “Send three squads ahead to scout the road—fifteen men each. Wake him up, try to get some information from him. Issue orders: no stopping; proceed to the capital at the fastest speed!”

“Yes!”

The guard standing beside Chelseberg answered in a low voice and hurried to direct the troops. The shrill cries of warhorses rang out as dozens of cavalrymen forged ahead, clearing the way. Chelseberg’s carriage occupied the center, protected by a dozen soul masters, and the rear was brought up by regular soldiers.

But scarcely ten minutes later, the convoy stopped abruptly for reasons unknown. Chelseberg’s personal guard rushed his horse to the side of the carriage, anxiety etched across his face. “Count, they’ve found the battle steeds of those three squads up ahead, but the men are missing. I fear—”

“Fear what? Dead!?”

Chelseberg yanked aside the carriage curtain, murderous intent flashing in his eyes, his cheeks twitching from rage. “Damn it!”

“What should we do, Count?”

The guard nervously wiped sweat from his brow and addressed Chelseberg.

“What should we do?” Chelseberg bared his teeth, biting down, pondering a moment before he spoke. “Split into two groups. The regular soldiers take the usual route back to the capital. The rest will follow me along the side road!”

“Yes!”

The guard quickly nodded and rode off to carry out the order. Watching his force—barely over a hundred—split in two, Chelseberg saw that only fifty men remained at his side. He shook his head in resignation atop the carriage, sighing softly, “Damn it! So many, yet so few truly useful… And I wonder if Easter has arrived yet…”

After dividing, Chelseberg’s group was smaller, but it represented the convoy’s elite force: over thirty cavalrymen, a dozen soul masters, and several mages including Semily. Taking into account the frail constitutions of the mages, Chelseberg had them ride in two carriages that had originally carried supplies, now emptied for transport. Of course, the cunning fat man had arranged this for speed as well.

“What are you thinking?”

West suddenly asked Lise, who was lost in thought.

“Of course, I’m thinking about that boy, Will!”

The handsome Semily flashed an ambiguous smile, speaking irresponsibly. The result was a round of disdainful looks from everyone (given the age gap between Will and Lise, and what they knew of Semily, his peculiar expression made his meaning obvious to all).

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking that we’re leaving, and Will doesn’t know a thing…”

Lise glared fiercely at Semily, then shook her head gently.

“Oh, that’s what you meant. Don’t worry, Lise; Will won’t get lost. Besides…” Semily began joking, but then his expression grew serious. “Besides, being with us might be even more dangerous…”

At Semily’s words, everyone in the carriage fell silent. Just then, piercing noises rang out from all around, and every horse seemed suddenly agitated, halting in the forest and emitting mournful cries.

“What’s happening?”

Chelseberg threw open the carriage curtain, poking his head out to question the guard. At that moment, strange lights flickered in the darkness nearby. Before anyone could react, a sharp “swish! swish! swish!” pierced the air. The guards beside the carriage were struck in the head by arrow-like projectiles before they could utter a sound; blood spurted out eerily as corpses toppled from their mounts.

“Ambush!”

Someone shouted. In the blink of an eye, all cavalrymen formed a circle at top speed, enclosing the three carriages within. The soul masters pressed close to Chelseberg’s carriage, instantly releasing their soul beasts.

Under their cover, Chelseberg carefully jumped down, glancing at the dead cavalrymen with furrowed brows.

Their skulls had been pierced by arrow-shaped energy, far more powerful than ordinary arrows. Not only did these energy arrows penetrate the helmets and skulls, but the force of the impact blasted gaping holes, spraying white brain matter and blood across the ground.

“They’re soldiers!”

The soul masters protecting Chelseberg instantly recognized the unique type of soul master from the imperial army—their soul beasts were the Vira Empire’s exclusive, long-range attackers: false serpents.

“Soldiers? Ridiculous! These are clearly people from the Hall of Martial Souls. Trying to disguise themselves? Hmph! I never expected the Hall of Martial Souls would dare strike at me!” Chelseberg thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as he surveyed the surroundings. In this forest, ambushed by soul masters wielding long-range beasts, they were in serious trouble. Chelseberg was about to order a charge, but he hadn’t realized the attackers weren’t just ambushing—they intended to slaughter them all.

“Swish! Swish! Swish!”

The piercing sound returned, even denser than before. In an instant, a dozen cavalrymen fell from their steeds as countless green energy arrows shrieked through the night, forcing Chelseberg back into the carriage under soul master protection.

With a roar, the soul masters around Chelseberg unleashed their full power. Soul beast patterns appeared on their bodies, colored auras streaked through the air, producing shrill noises as they battled the energy arrows.

“Spirit of the wind, gather your power and rend all things—Blade of the Wind!”

“Element of ice, summon forth your strength—Cone of Frost!”

Semily and West reacted first, casting two spells toward the attackers, urging everyone to leap from the carriage. Moments later, the unprotected carriages were riddled with energy arrows. Fortunately, Semily and the other five escaped unharmed, while the other carriage’s mages, caught unawares, were slaughtered where they sat.

“Swish! Swish! Swish!”

Energy arrows continued to howl; ordinary cavalrymen were falling all around. In mere moments, even three of the soul masters guarding Chelseberg had been killed. Semily and his companions, protected by the soul masters, fired spells into the distance, but their casualties kept mounting.

“We must leave this place!”

Chelseberg realized the gravity of the situation, deciding to abandon the carriages. He jumped down and shouted to Semily, “Withdraw! Semily, find a way to create some obstacles!”