Forest Sasquatch (4)
A moment later, Calix stood blankly before the goblin corpses. His blood felt like it was boiling furiously. An inexplicable power welled up from the depths of his body. Even after the battle had ended, he struggled to calm his lingering excitement—until Krout's voice snapped him back to reality.
"My lord? My lord!"
Krout's face drained of color as he took in the chaotic scene of monster corpses strewn everywhere.
"A-are you hurt anywhere, my lord?"
Calix barely managed to stop Krout from frantically patting him down and inspecting every inch of his body before asking,
"What about the sasquatch pack?"
"Fortunately, they started retreating after we took down two of them. We got lucky."
'Lucky, huh? Like hell.'
Calix gave a wry smile. It seemed Laila's diversion tactic had worked. He forcibly shoved down the rising cloud of worry.
"What's our casualty count?"
"Three dead, eleven wounded. Considering the circumstances, it's light damage..."
Only then did a certain face flash into Calix's mind. He rushed to where the young soldier had fallen, but all that remained was a pool of blood.
"Arbu! What about Arbu?"
"Arbu? Who's that?"
"The young soldier who went down here!"
"Ah..."
"What? Why aren't you saying anything?"
"I'm sorry."
Calix collapsed to his knees.
"He's really dead?"
Krout nodded silently, tears welling up in his eyes.
"If I... if I hadn't let my guard down...!"
"Young master, don't blame yourself. He met an honorable death."
"Bullshit! There's no such thing as an honorable death! Death is just death!"
Krout bristled, about to retort, but he shut his mouth at the ominous look on Calix's face. He still remembered the pain of losing his first subordinate all too well. No words would get through to Calix right now.
"Where is he?"
"Over there."
Calix climbed onto the cart and pulled back the white cloth covering the young soldier. The boy's youthful face was cold and rigid.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...!"
His tears soaked the boy's face. After sobbing for a long while, Calix lifted his head. Beside the body lay two more corpses side by side. He hadn't truly believed in some fairy tale where no one died. But feeling it this viscerally was another matter entirely.
"What do we do with bodies during an operation?"
"Unless it's an emergency, we recover them and bring them back."
"Do that."
"Understood."
"We'll depart as soon as preparations are complete. And make sure to slather this on thoroughly. Anyone who half-asses it and draws the sasquatch after us gets left behind—no exceptions. Make sure everyone knows."
What Calix handed over was the salve Laila had smeared on herself—crushed herbs mixed with mud. Krout looked reluctant, but Calix's vibe was too intense to object. He nodded quietly. Soon after, the expedition members lined up before Calix, their bodies caked in the black ointment. But he averted his gaze from their eyes, weighed down by guilt.
In truth, before the battle, he'd only been thinking about how to wield these men most efficiently. Even knowing his game knowledge could have minimized casualties, he'd turned a blind eye—because it was efficient. He'd seen this as the perfect chance to prove his abilities to the expedition. But staring at the corpses and the wounded soldiers writhing in pain had shown him the ruthlessness of his choice. Sure, these stubborn veterans might not have listened to some spoiled young master anyway. But that didn't erase the guilt. He'd had a clear purpose and done nothing.
That's when Krout spoke up.
"Everyone's assembled, young master. Awaiting your order to depart."
While Calix wallowed in guilt, the expedition members' gazes had shifted dramatically from before. Ironically, it was exactly the attitude Calix had wanted pre-battle. In a war against another territory or kingdom, traps and poison might earn scorn—Lock Kingdom revered chivalry and fair fights. But no one expected that against monsters.
They'd used traps and poison, sure. But single-handedly holding off two mid-sized sasquatch over three meters tall and a dozen goblins? That was no small feat. Even elite soldiers struggled to face a monster's killing intent head-on. The gruesome sight of those corpses scattered about left a deep impression. If those monsters had hit the rear? Half these men would be under white sheets on carts, the rest licking wounds from a humiliating defeat.
Now, they saw Calix not as a frail, unreliable brat, but as their lifesaver and a competent commander. And that was a stroke of luck for the soldiers—the best leaders turned battles into victories. That's why they stood proud despite the losses.
Calix read their eyes. He set aside his guilt for the moment, forcing a confident front. These men needed courage and hope now.
"You all fought hard against those monsters. We'll march to our objective at top speed. Those who are fit, look after the wounded—make sure no one falls behind. I won't forgive anyone who abandons a comrade."
"Young master...!"
Krout murmured, deeply moved., never expecting such resolve from the once-weak, indecisive heir. Calix called out in a detached tone.
"Move out!"
"Move out!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"Yes, my lord!"
A bit earlier, while Calix's group was locked in combat, Laila was tracking the female sasquatch leading her young to their lair. The narrow path was eerily silent—no animal cries, thanks to the monsters ahead. Her footsteps on the leaves boomed like thunder. She'd masked most of the scent, but sasquatch hearing couldn't be ignored. She moved slowly, nerves on edge.
Then a black shadow dropped abruptly. Instinctively, she rolled aside. Boom! A female sasquatch, about three meters tall. She'd sensed the pursuer and ambushed. Laila didn't panic, whipping her arm. A short dagger shot from her sleeve, embedding deep in a nearby tree. Yanking the thin cord connected to it, she launched herself airborne—just as the sasquatch's fist slammed down. Thud! Dirt blasted her cheek. A split-second later, and she'd be dead. Chills ran down her spine, but she stayed composed.
She climbed the tree two or three steps, whipped her arm again. The dagger flew like an arrow, lodging high in the trunk. Swinging on the cord into a flip—the fist cratered the spot below. Crack! The trunk splintered and toppled. But Laila was already airborne, snatching the dagger from the wreckage and hurling it at another tree. This time, it looped around the trunk, binding tight. She tugged to confirm it held. The line slanted from high to low—perfectly at shoulder height for the sasquatch.
"Grraa! Grrk!"
The sasquatch charging with a roar choked as the line caught its neck. The tendon-woven cord stretched taut. The dagger at one end tore free from the tree under the strain. Laila grabbed the loose end, swung behind the monster's neck, and dropped. The cord naturally wrapped once around its throat.
"Grrk!"
The sasquatch flailed, trying to grab and snap the cord. But it was too thin for its blunt fingers. Laila hit the ground and dashed circles around the tree. After two loops, the cord snapped tight. Any later, and she'd have lost it. Glancing back, the sasquatch had given up untangling and was lunging desperately. But the dual-tree anchor held firm—the more it pulled, the tighter the noose. Bloodshot eyes, drooling maw. A smarter beast might have slipped to a slack spot and bitten through. But rage blinded it to anything but the taunting foe.
Still, too early to relax. If the cord snapped, the cunning sasquatch wouldn't fall for it twice. As an assassin, ambushes suited her. Pursuit limited her options sharply. Failure meant disaster. She slid under its legs, scrambled up its back. It thrashed to shake her off—the cord dug deeper, but it ignored the pain. One hand slipped, losing fur grip. Her full weight yanked on the other, swinging precariously.
"Ngh!"
Teeth gritted, she clenched tight. Barely holding, she drew a dagger and stabbed into its lower back. Squelch! It pierced only fat, not muscle. But good enough as a foothold. She kicked off, grabbed a handful of long mane, and drew a 30cm awl—hollow for poison.
She hesitated. For bleeding, stab and pull. For venom, leave it in. This batch mixed Siren's Temptation oil—Calix's new trick.
'Directly into the vein, he said. But will it really work? Or just bleed it out like old times?'
Calix's face came to mind. Her own trap for him used the same principle.
'At least he believes it will.'
Laila jammed the awl into its nape. Better than a blade for piercing steel-like muscle. Squelch!
"Kraaaagh!"
She twisted it deep and leaped. The delayed backhand swipe only drove it further. Boom! Moments later, the female sasquatch crumpled to its knees. Laila sighed heavily before it.
"Whew... it actually worked..."
She'd half-doubted Calix's claim that Siren's Temptation was an anesthetic. No denying it now. At least with poisons, he outclassed her. The dazed, limp sasquatch proved it.
"How does someone change so much overnight?"
About a year ago, as finances worsened, she'd started attending him—really to prepare the assassination, but long enough to know his character. This Calix was unrecognizable.
'No, maybe it's for the best. I thought revenge impossible this lifetime, but perhaps...'
She bit her lip.