Chapter Thirty-Nine: I Don’t Care Who You Are! (2)

When Will descended from the mountain, he found that everyone had already left. Helpless, he could only follow the route they had taken. Fortunately, a warhorse remained at the base of the mountain, perhaps deliberately left by Semily and the others.

Although he had never ridden before, Will had no choice but to climb atop the horse. He gripped the reins tightly, pressing his entire weight against the animal’s neck and wrapping his arms around it. The horse, uncomfortable with this, let out a high-pitched whinny and suddenly reared up, its forelegs raised, attempting to throw Will off. Yet, whether by accident or deliberate instinct, Will had wound the reins around his hands, anchoring himself to the horse. As it leapt, he instinctively clutched its mane, his legs pressed tightly against its sides. This reflex, though clumsy, kept him from being thrown to the ground.

“Whoa!” he cried.

The horse failed to unseat him and, after another loud whinny and leap, Will—now armed with the experience of the first attempt—pressed his body even closer, his arms wrapped tenaciously around the horse’s neck, legs locked against its belly for balance.

Back and forth they struggled; the horse, unable to rid itself of Will, ended up panting and exhausted, while Will—whose constitution as a mage was already frail—was nearly spent after just a few jarring bounces. His arms went numb, his hands ached where the reins had cut into them, purple-red marks emerging on his skin.

With Will stubbornly clinging to its back, the warhorse seemed resigned, ceasing its wild movements. Will exhaled, then attempted to imitate the cavalrymen in his memory, shouting, “Ha!”

But the effect was negligible. The horse, unimpressed, tossed its head, took a few indifferent steps, then stopped.

This was Will’s first time riding, whether in his previous era or since arriving here. For a prodigious mage to be bested by a warhorse—it stoked his competitive spirit. Gripping the reins, he freed one hand and struck the horse’s neck, then spurred its belly with his feet, shouting again, “Ha!”

“Whoa!”

At last, the horse responded, letting out a high whinny and surging forward like the wind.

––––––––––––––––––––

Arrows of green energy whistled through the air. If not for the soul masters beside them, it was hard to imagine how they could escape such a dense barrage.

Two soul masters led the way, followed by Semily and six other mages. Behind them lumbered Chersberg, the fat man, flanked on either side by soul masters to help him flee. Seven more soul masters brought up the rear, tasked with blocking most of the energy arrows and holding off the pursuers.

“What’s going on?!”

In the darkness, a shadowy figure appeared, his eyes glinting with a chill that made those nearby shudder.

“There are more mages now. Those sixth and seventh-tier soul masters, combined with the mages’ spells, make it hard for us to catch up…”

A soul master, head bowed, spoke hurriedly. Even in the night, his trembling was plain to see.

“Hmph! Useless. Just a few mages!”

The shadow scoffed, then flashed from the ground to a branch ten meters above. A massive serpent emblem appeared on his body. With a wave, a long green bow materialized in his hand, nearly a meter in length. His right hand crackled with emerald energy, which flowed onto the bow. At its center, a razor-sharp arrowhead formed; as he drew the bow, the sound of bones cracking whispered in the air.

He pulled the bow to its limit, revealing an arrow twice as thick as the ordinary energy bolts, its length exceeding a meter and a half. He had to arch his waist to accommodate its size.

A piercing hiss rang out as the green energy arrow transformed midair into a giant serpent, forked tongue flickering as if alive. Before anyone could react, a deafening explosion erupted behind them.

Boom!

The energy arrow pierced through two soul masters, blasting one into a heap of flesh. After boring through the last soul master, it struck the ground, carving a terrifying fissure more than a meter wide. Shards of stone flew, injuring those nearby.

“It’s a Grand Soul Master!”

––––––––––––––––––––

The soul masters guarding Chersberg cried out. Though they were elite, handpicked for the earl’s protection, their ranks reached only the sixth tier. Yet among the attackers, there was a Grand Soul Master.

Chersberg understood well the power such an adversary possessed. His brow furrowed as he glanced at his guardians, his face flushing red and purple in the gloom.

“Damn it! If only Ist were here… If only he were…”

He muttered to himself, rooted to the spot with the others, afraid that any movement would make them targets for the lurking Grand Soul Master.

“Lys, Claire!”

Semily’s heart was in turmoil, though he strove to steady himself. Lys and Claire exchanged a glance, then, with subtle movements, began chanting spells.

Claire’s earth magic and Lys’s fire magic fused, conjuring a thick, black smoke around them. Semily added his wind magic to spread the smoke, instantly obscuring all vision.

“What’s happening?!”

“Damn! Can’t see them!”

“Idiots! What are you doing? Go see what’s happening!”

“They’ve vanished! Must have slipped away in the confusion!”

“Everyone shut up!”

The shadowy leader barked, silencing the chaotic voices. The acrid, smoky haze spread, tinged with the scent of burning flesh. He frowned, the serpent emblem glowing again as he unleashed a blast of force that scattered the smoke in his vicinity.

“Regroup. Block the road to the capital. Search inch by inch—they can’t have gone far!”

––––––––––––––––––––

The group fled desperately into the forest, directionless; all they knew was that they were moving away from their pursuers.

But that was enough.

“Let me go!”

Chersberg suddenly cried, straining against the soul masters holding him. “Damn it! This isn’t the road to the capital! Turn back!”

“We can’t, Lord Earl…”

His guardians started to protest, but the fat man, fueled by some hidden strength, shoved them aside, eyes bloodshot, teeth clenched. “What do you mean, can’t? I’m the earl! My word is law!”

“Lord Earl, please lower your voice!”

Seeing his wild, red-eyed shouting, the soul masters showed a trace of fear, scanning the surroundings. Perhaps driven by paranoia, one spotted a shadow emerging from a nearby thicket.

“Who’s there?!”

The threat of pursuit by assassins dominated their minds; they closed ranks around Chersberg, alert.

“It’s me.”

––––––––––––––––––––

A young figure emerged from the thicket, limping, clothes tattered, wounds bandaged, his face bruised and swollen—a result of being thrown from the warhorse. In a word, Will looked utterly wretched.

“It’s Will!”

Semily’s pale face lit with joy. He quickly called to the wary soul masters, “He’s one of us!”

The mages rushed to support Will, and West immediately cast a water healing spell on him. “The wounds are serious.”

The blue healing magic soothed Will’s injuries, but the icy beauty West frowned. It wasn’t that his wounds were beyond saving; rather, she sensed they had already been treated.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you ran into wolves again?”

Will noticed her expression and calmly shifted her focus. “We ran into assassins,” West replied curtly, then fell silent, leaving Will to question Semily and learn what had happened.

“Enough! I say what goes! I am the earl! Now, I order you to return to the original route!”

Chersberg shouted again, grabbing a soul master by the collar, face flushed with anger—not out of panic but clear-headed determination. If the enemy could send a Grand Soul Master to kill him, his guardians were no match. Even if they escaped pursuit now, they’d be caught eventually in the forest without reinforcements. Better to risk returning to the rendezvous point with Ist, himself a Grand Soul Master.

His outburst drew all eyes, but Chersberg cared nothing for their stares, barking at the soul masters, “Damn it! Did you hear me? Take me back!”

The soul masters exchanged worried glances but hesitated, unable to decide. Their orders were to protect Chersberg, and returning was obviously dangerous. So they kept silent, heads bowed.

At that moment, Will stepped forward, coldly addressing Chersberg, “There’s a Grand Soul Master among them. Even so, you still want to go back?”

Chersberg hadn’t expected such defiance. He snorted, “Hmph, so what? I am the earl. My word is law. You damned mages too—I want to go back, and you must protect me…”

He spoke carelessly, but before he finished, Will kicked him to the ground.

For a moment, not just the soul masters but even Semily and the others were stunned.

“Scoundrel! How dare you treat me like this?! I am Chers—”

The fat man raged, never before so humiliated, barking like a mad dog. But before he could finish saying his name, Will pressed his boot to his mouth.

“Sorry, Weilynn…” Will muttered silently. He knew well who this man was: Chersberg, patriarch of the Chers family, a noble earl of the Vera Empire, father to Chers Weilynn. Yet at times like these, feigning ignorance was perhaps the wisest course.

“Hmph, I don’t care who you are.”

Will said, deadpan, and his words made everyone want to cough blood.