Chapter 30
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Raid (2)
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Tae-jin supported Garam, who could no longer use one leg, as they headed toward the carriage.
"Hey, Garam. You okay staying in the carriage?"
"I've got no choice. You gonna carry me and the coachman on your back to chase the werewolves?"
It sounded reasonable at first glance, but his own safety was entirely excluded from the equation.
"Werewolves might come back, you know?"
Garam dumped every shamanic material from his bag onto the ground as he spoke.
"With these, I can squeeze out one ritual circle if I push it. Quit yapping and go. We got time to slack off?"
When Tae-jin glanced back, Pavilion came into view, fidgeting restlessly. His expression screamed he'd bolt alone if they delayed any longer.
Before Tae-jin could even reply, Garam lay diagonally across the seat, clutching materials from his bag.
"Quit yapping and go."
Garam spoke while concealing his withered leg behind him.
Having already sacrificed one leg, what price would another ritual demand? But there was no time to question him leisurely.
The three sprinted up the mountain path for all they were worth.
Tae-jin knew next to nothing about combat spells, so he unleashed every support magic he had without restraint—lightening their bodies or hastening their steps.
But the closer they got to their destination, the more his chest tightened with dread. The massive bulk and razor claws of the werewolf they'd just faced lingered vividly in his mind. He'd been anxious enough over eleven of them—how could three people possibly stand against more than twenty?
No way to know. All they could do was run, refusing to stand idle.
The night was still cool with spring lingering, but tonight felt especially frigid. The mountain birds, silent at night, cried out fervently now—not mere illusion. It was the call of prey anticipating slaughter.
A faint metallic tang of blood drifted on the air. Human noses weren't keen; it could be imagination.
Yet Pavilion's increasingly rigid expression suggested otherwise.
The group climbed the mountainside toward the village without pause. They couldn't take the comfortable path. Even driven by instinct, werewolves were intelligent demi-humans.
They couldn't discount the chance that a shred of reason remained, werewolves watching the route to the village. A single lapse could mean death.
How far had they climbed? Pavilion halted, ears twitching erect, palm outstretched to the group—a clear stop signal.
His palm glistened with sweat, betraying his tension. He was a rabbit charging toward wolves, instincts screaming flight.
The group shortened their strides to a quick, cautious march. No words exchanged. Distant werewolves might overhear.
Footfalls tread carefully. Reckless steps would crunch the dry leaves from last autumn, shriveled over winter, betraying their position.
Two or three minutes later, Tae-jin spotted a horrifying sight and gasped.
A lone werewolf stood apart, its elongated maw clamped around a rabbit beastkin with a snapped neck. Instant death.
Old man Richer confirmed the limp, neck-broken rabbit beastkin and unleashed his pre-cast lightning magic on the werewolf without mercy.
In Tae-jin's heightened senses, he felt the lightning straining toward nearby trees or the ground. And the desperate flow of mana wrestling it back under control.
The werewolf stiffened rigid and collapsed like the one struck by the carriage. Pavilion charged without breath, smashing its skull with his iron bar. The head caved in, blood gushing from ears and nose. No need to check—instant death.
Pavilion examined the slack face of the rabbit beastkin and groaned.
"Isil..."
The beastkin's name had been Isil, apparently. But calling the name wouldn't bring the dead back.
Pavilion rose, scanned the surroundings, then lightly covered the body with fallen leaves. Praying they survived the night to retrieve the cold corpse.
The group dashed up the mountain path once more. Tae-jin realized belatedly and manipulated the air to seal sound outward.
"No sound will leak out now, so we don't need to move so carefully."
Old man Richer looked mildly surprised. Blocking sound in a moving space was no easy feat. But Tae-jin managed it handily.
He'd be useless in the fight anyway—better to assist like this.
And at last, a forest clearing unfolded before them—the village.
Pavilion already knew its location, but Tae-jin and Richer only realized upon seeing the buildings. No smoke rose from chimneys, no lights flickered in windows. The prey village lay dark and forlorn.
A few wooden houses at the entrance lay in splinters, corpses strewn everywhere.
Tae-jin gasped in shock. At least his concentration held; the magic stayed intact.
He'd seen corpses before. But like most modern folk, those had been peaceful—no wounds, just age or illness claiming them.
These, though, were uniformly shattered, snapped, and torn apart.
The broken ones had bones twisted in grotesque angles anyone could recognize. Even jointless limbs bent and warped as if hinged.
The shredded were worse. Flesh gouged out in places, raw red cross-sections bared, unidentifiable rags spilling from wounds.
Unlike nightmarish imaginings, the village lay silent—no screams. Survivors, if any, hid breathless somewhere; the dead couldn't cry out.
The only sounds were werewolves' paws crunching leaves, satisfied belly-rumbles as they gorged, jaws grinding rabbit beastkin bones with sickening crack-crack.
All sounds werewolf-made. In this slaughter, rabbit beastkin were denied even a whimper.
In the pitch-black, silent night, white death prowled its white victims.
Tae-jin's entire body trembled. Death lurked there. In mere minutes, he might be snapped and shredded, sliding down some throat.
Pavilion's eyes gleamed wildly as he lurched to his feet, taking a step forward.
Only Richer kept his cool. His right hand seized Pavilion's left leg, left hand Tae-jin's shoulder. Then a brief, sharp jolt of current.
Hahk—
That single shock burst the dammed-up thoughts. Fear-frozen minds thawed and churned again; ragged breaths steadied to rhythm.
"Pavilion. Didn't you say you've seen war?"
"Yes. But...!"
"Ever seen a soldier with crazed eyes charge the enemy lines and live to tell?"
"...Never."
"Ever seen ones like that cut down every foe?"
"...Never."
Richer's counsel came from a mage who'd stood countless battlefields, waded endless death.
Pavilion's body stilled, exhaling a deep breath. Hoo—
Yet urgency still spilled from his lips.
"But we can't dawdle. We have to save them before more die. Looks like half are already gone."
Half dead meant survivors remained. Tae-jin blurted in surprise.
"Survivors? Houses look totally trashed."
Pavilion shook his head and gave a calm, concise explanation.
"Survivors are definitely there. Mountain rabbits dig burrows. Every one of those wooden houses has a basement underneath. That's where they're hiding."
Unspoken at the end: Please, let my child be safe.
Pavilion's gaze fixed on a lopsided hut. Surely his child hid in its basement.
As if proving his words, werewolves everywhere scratched at the ground with front paws. Too distant for details, but that house's basement entrance bore heavy gouges too.
Some pressed body weight down, others hurled themselves to smash the doors. For this moment, the full moon's paws were a mercy—if human hands with wits intact, fingers would pry the seams open.
Then one basement door splintered. Two werewolves leaped down. A brief shriek echoed, then three limp rabbit beastkin dragged out. The werewolves slaughtered them without hesitation before climbing back up.
Pavilion surged again at the sight. Old man Richer spoke.
"This won't be easy."
"You're a war mage! No way to sweep them all?"
"War mages excel at wiping clumped forces. Scattered like this? Can't handle. Well, possible, but it'll cost lives."
Old man Richer turned to Pavilion.
"Pavilion. Best I can do now is three dispersed lightning strikes. Can you lure the werewolves to cluster a bit? Buy some time?"
"How much time?"
"Even a few seconds. Five's good, ten ideal. Just bunch those bastards together for an instant. Delay their steps as much as you can."
Pavilion nodded with grim resolve.