Chapter 206
Chapter 206
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: 60th Chapter. Centaurus King (6)
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16.
Hiiing!
That neighing sound echoed from a spot very far from where the resolute Resistance members had gathered.
It was truly a faint sound.
So faint that anyone not paying attention would dismiss it as mere wind rustling through the trees.
But the moment the Resistance members heard it, they knew.
‘It’s a scream.’
They recognized it wasn’t just any noise—it was a Centaurus letting out a death knell.
Centaurus were extraordinarily resilient monsters.
They were warriors at heart.
Even with grievous wounds, they didn’t scream in agony; they bellowed in rage!
A Centaurus crying out like this meant almost one thing.
‘The death cry.’
A fatal blow had been struck.
Naturally, the thought crossed everyone’s minds.
They hadn’t even fought a proper battle yet, so why was a Centaurus screaming?
The source of that scream was obvious, of course.
‘El Pam.’
In this situation, only one person remained alive and active: El Pam.
The instant they recalled him, all doubts evaporated.
They’d experienced it before, even if not firsthand.
El Pam had aided them.
With astonishing skill.
This moment was no different.
‘El Pam is helping us.’
It was his signal: he’d handle a Centaurus herd separately to support the Resistance.
Realizing this, Alby clenched her teeth hard.
‘He’s our benefactor.’
Rage boiled within.
‘And we treated him like that.’
Fury at themselves for scorning El Pam, who was throwing himself into the fire to aid the Resistance even now.
Alby wasn’t alone in this.
Every Resistance member who grasped the truth etched deep gratitude for El Pam into their hearts.
Of course, they all knew.
‘His interference won’t change much.’
What El Pam could accomplish solo was pitifully limited.
Yet the fact he was staking his life to help remained unchanged.
And right now, even that tiny bit of aid pierced the Resistance like marrow-deep relief.
“Remember the direction that scream came from.”
The spot where the death cry rang out was likely clear of Centaurus.
Fleeing there in a pinch would boost their odds of survival.
But such gratitude didn’t linger.
Thud thud thud!
The ground began to quake, the rumble racing toward the Resistance members.
“It’s the Centaurus King!”
The Centaurus King mobilizing once more to wipe out the intruders breaching its domain.
“Execute the plan!”
The sight spurred the Resistance into action.
17.
It wasn’t fierce combat so much as desperate survival.
“Wild Shot!”
The Wild Hunters assigned to the guerrilla squad—elite trackers—poured every ounce of strength into their skills.
“Sonic Boom!”
Kyaaah!
Even their jaguars, virtual extensions of themselves, wrung out all power for skills of their own.
Yet these weren’t predator’s roars meant to claim prey.
Hiiing!
“Fall back! Keep retreating!”
It was mere thrashing to divert the Centaurus King and its herd.
Like flies fluttering around a mark just to pester it.
That’s what made it so desperate.
These weren’t average Wild Hunters; each boasted at least 4th Circle mastery—the Resistance’s elite among elites!
For them to be reduced to fly-like nuisances spoke volumes.
Worse still, the Centaurus King fueled their desperation.
Wild Hunters flaunted incredible speed, but the King outpaced them.
Its leaps were unmatched too.
Pew!
Each bound of the Centaurus King cast a shadow over a Wild Hunter’s head.
Whoosh!
The shadow of its massive stone hammer.
“Damn...”
Crack!
The Wild Hunter beneath that hammer’s arc splattered like a fly crushed in a fist.
No exceptions.
‘Another one.’
The Resistance guerrillas watched their comrade perish—no more than a fly’s end.
But fury didn’t cloud their eyes.
Sorrow didn’t thicken there either.
Instead, their gazes gleamed, mismatched to the grim scene.
‘Less damage than expected.’
It fit: this was the tenth loss.
No small toll.
‘After a full day.’
Sacrificing ten to endure a day beat their grim forecasts.
‘Going smoothly.’
They’d steeled for over 150 deaths to last a week; this was miraculous.
They didn’t bask in it blindly, though.
“Alby.”
“Yeah, the guerrilla squads are handling their roles well.”
Alby, tracking their moves from afar, sensed it too.
“Fewer Centaurus than we thought.”
The smoothness stemmed from sparse Centaurus nearby—letting Wild Hunters evade cleanly.
That sparsity bred worry.
“Lucky break.”
It wasn’t by design; pure chance this area lacked them.
Luck’s end would spell disaster.
Everyone watched tautly.
Braced for the worst at any second.
Another day passed.
“Casualties?”
“Six dead.”
Smoother still.
Same cause.
“No Centaurus around.”
“Talk about fortune.”
Alby and the Resistance savored the luck but stayed vigilant.
Prepared.
On day three.
“Losses today?”
“Four.”
Better yet, same reason.
This time, though, they didn’t swallow the fortune whole.
‘How?’
Questions arose.
‘No Centaurus at all?’
Pre-entry intel pegged tens of thousands here minimum.
Centaurus should carpet the ground.
Yet three days in, Wild Hunter guerrillas faced under a thousand.
Inexplicable.
‘Something’s off.’
Alby revised plans.
“Assemble a scouting team.”
“Scouting?”
“We scout the area. Too few Centaurus—it’s unnatural.”
“Got it. Members?”
“One Wild Hunter to carry me suffices.”
Alby took point for recon.
“Alby! Climb on!”
Astride the jaguar behind a Wild Hunter, Alby set out.
“Eyes sharp.”
“Yes!”
She commanded.
The order proved pointless.
Kyaa!
Moments later, Alby, the Wild Hunter, and jaguar spotted it.
“Ah, Alby.”
“...Corpses.”
Centaurus corpses.
“Dozens upon dozens.”
Endless sprawl across the forest floor, like laid carpet.
The sight stunned Alby, the Wild Hunter—even the jaguar.
Unthinkable carnage.
The corpses’ state shocked most.
Dismounting, Alby gaped at a Centaurus body.
‘Pristine.’
No real wounds anywhere.
‘Heads aside.’
One wound type: skull holes.
‘How?’
Impossible by Alby’s measure.
Not absolutely so.
Certain experts could manage it.
Hence the deeper horror.
‘Captain Kairin here?’
Only 7th Circle adventurers or higher—true powerhouses.
‘No chance.’
Blue-grade Mystic Gate: 6th Circle max.
‘Us aside... only El Pam.’
Just one adventurer could’ve wrought this.
That explained it.
Hiiing!
‘Shit!’
Shock blinded them; the Centaurus herd closed in undetected.
Grave error.
Unbefitting Resistance leader Alby.
‘Surrounded.’
The herd boxed them perfectly.
Substantial numbers.
‘Over two hundred.’
Proof they hadn’t popped up randomly.
They’d lain in wait.
For the adventurer who slew their own—or anything linked.
An ambush.
Baffling.
Centaurus: warrior stock.
Fought kin sans foes, battle-lust endless!
No ambushes in their world.
Die fighting, never craven.
Their terror ran that deep.
Cold comfort for Alby now.
Escape—that was her sole task.
“Alby, I’ll draw them off.”
“No point. Frontal assault. I’ll carve the way.”
She readied for mortal combat.
Confidence surged.
6th Circle Battle Mage!
Hit-and-run? Not her forte.
But grappling Centaurus to corpses? Absolutely.
One concern.
‘Break through fast. Delay draws every Centaurus near.’
Not the full force here.
Resolve fueled her skill.
“Yellow Aura!”
Death God-pacted Battle Mages’ exclusive buff erupted yellow from her feet, sheathing her form.
“Hoo!”
Brief breath ended; she charged a Centaurus without pause.
Blinding speed.
Gap closed in a flash; staff swung as she yelled.
“Death Blow!”
Purple light bloomed from the staff.
Blade-like gleams ringed it.
Razor edges.
Shwick!
Staff arced; deep gash tore the Centaurus.
Profound.
Hiiing!
Fury-neigh from the beast.
Far from over.
Unyielding, ten strikes landed in a heartbeat.
Four gashes riddled its bulk.
Targeted, not random.
Achilles tendons—all four legs, precisely.
Splut!
Sinews severed, it crumpled.
Masterful precision!
Her prowess earned her command.
Combat ruled Resistance leadership.
Her confidence’s root.
‘Thirty minutes—I’d clear them all.’
Faster than any, she knew.
It held.
Whoosh!
‘Huh?’
Till something rent the air, skewering Centaurus skulls outright.
‘W-what?’
Alby recoiled at the sight.
Pew!
Hiiing!
Now slaughtering Centaurus mercilessly: 1st Circle fire spell, Fire Arrow.
‘Blue?’
A Fire Arrow hue she’d never beheld!