As a seasoned moose-centaur warrior often venturing beyond the tribe, Scela was no stranger to encountering "Night Stalkers."
Of course, in their tribe, the term "Night Stalkers" had a unique pronunciation and phrasing, but the meaning was essentially the same. No need to delve into those details here.
In short, Scela faced a "Night Stalker" about once every one or two months.
It was normal.
Having dealt with numerous "Night Stalkers" over the years, Scela knew their most troublesome trait wasn't their combat strength.
The most frustrating and despised thing about "Night Stalkers" was their ability to "summon" nearby beasts, forming an encircling horde.
Once the "summoning" began, the enemies would pour in endlessly…
Just like the one standing before him now.
First, the creature used its massive pincers—one of the three vicious heads atop its shoulders—to hurl a moose-centaur scout who had come to warn them.
"Ahhh—!"
The scout crashed into the tangled vines at the base of a towering tree, tumbled to the ground, and rolled several times before coming to a stop.
He spat out blood and struggled to rise, but it seemed one of his legs was broken. His towering body couldn't support itself for the moment.
Damn it!
Scela and his three companions wanted to help, but the situation made it impossible.
The "Night Stalker" lowered its upper body, shifting its weight forward. Its three heads each had a different posture—one raised high, one glaring directly at them, and one hanging low.
All of them flicked their tongues out menacingly and began to growl.
"Grrrr—"
Though the growl was low, its reverberation was powerful, like the deep pounding of a war drum echoing through the forest.
Before long, the red-eyed, green-tinged beasts of the forest responded to the call with chilling howls of their own.
"Grrrr—!"
"Hissss—!"
"Guh, guh, guh—!"
The dense, overwhelming swarm of shadows covered the campfire like a massive curtain, rolling in and threatening to consume everything in darkness.
Monsters emerged from towering trees, swung down from vines, and crept out from behind massive boulders. Each one drooled hungrily, charging at the group like frenzied beasts.
The mastermind behind it all, the "Night Stalker," used its many tiny legs to frantically dig into the ground behind it.
Dust filled the air, and soon, a tunnel appeared.
The "Night Stalker" retreated backward, disappearing into the tunnel, digging deeper into the earth.
Germain, seeing this, tipped the brim of his tricorn hat slightly lower. He exchanged glances with Ging, Bisky, and Shizuku.
The unspoken meaning in his eyes was clear: "Leave it to me."
The others nodded in agreement.
The encirclement was complete... Scela frowned deeply, even without activating the group's communication channel.
Facing an attack from the "Night Stalker," brute force was obviously not the solution.
The sheer number of enemies was overwhelming, not to mention the chaotic mix of beasts. There was no guarantee that some especially tricky or dangerous monsters wouldn't appear among them.
The best strategy was to rely on the speed of their four-legged mounts and break through before the encirclement was fully formed.
Even if they were ambushed mid-escape, the moose-centaurs' formidable combat abilities could tear open a path.
That way, they could escape the "Night Stalker" with minimal losses.
But this time, things were different.
The encirclement was already in place, and they had human companions with them.
They couldn't abandon their human allies and flee at full speed.
Even if they managed to return safely to the tribe, their actions would result in scorn and exile.
Scela would no longer have the face to call himself the tribe's "bravest warrior." And if Don ever passed through the tribe again, he wouldn't dare face him.
After all, Ging had said that Don was his ancestor. If he abandoned Don's descendants here and fled, how could he ever face himself—or Don?
The thought was unbearable.
Perhaps Don wouldn't care about a descendant he'd never met, but Scela couldn't convince himself to act otherwise.
To give up the dignity of a warrior, abandon your companions, and forsake the next generation of your friends—it would be better for a moose centaur warrior to die outright!
Scela clenched his teeth, drew the long spear and massive shield from his back, and struck the shield with the spear.
He had decided to perform a "Pre-Battle Rally"!
Bang, bang, bang!
The sound drew the attention of all the moose centaur warriors and their human allies.
"Comrades!" he bellowed in the moose centaur language, stepping forward with his four hooves. "Our companions have been hurt, our allies surrounded—we cannot stand idly by!"
The moose centaur language included many tongue-clicking sounds, and spit flew everywhere as Scela's fervor grew.
"Fight back! Drive off these despicable enemies! Let them witness the courage and fearlessness of moose centaur warriors!"
Scela's voice roared in their native tongue!
The other three moose centaurs immediately drew their weapons—bows, long swords—and pounded their chests with their fists, responding with equal fervor in their own language!
In that instant, Scela's "Pre-Battle Rally" took effect. The shared spirit of valor surged among the warriors, causing a white aura to radiate from their bodies, enveloping them completely!
This was their "Armor of Fierce Charge"!
But just as Scela finished his rally, he noticed something surprising. The "companion" they were trying to protect had already begun counterattacking the ambush!
Sanbica moved like a flash of white lightning, landing gracefully beside the overturned and injured moose centaur warrior.
She skillfully held the warrior down, ensuring he wouldn't move.
Activating her Nen ability, she quickly assessed his condition and pulled out her medical kit to start treating him.
Throughout the entire process, she left herself completely exposed to danger.
This was because she trusted the others to protect her, ensuring she could focus on her work without interruption.
And that "others" naturally referred to Bisky, who stood closest to Sanbica and the injured warrior.
At this point, Bisky had already revealed her "True Form."
She now stood almost as tall as the moose centaur warriors, her muscular physique taking everyone by surprise!
Was this truly the same delicate and petite girl from before?
They always thought this girl was the weakest among them, but now it was clear that judgment was completely wrong.
A "medium-sized creature" resembling a toad, its back covered in bulging bumps, each split open to reveal mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth.
It leapt out from the darkness, lunging toward Sanbica and the fallen moose centaur warrior.
The injured moose centaur warrior struggled at the sight, but Sanbica firmly held him down.
"Don't move."
Her gaze was calm and composed as she continued her treatment, seemingly unbothered by the imminent threat at her back.
This calmness was a stark contrast to her usual timid and fearful demeanor.
Even the injured moose centaur warrior was awed by her composure and obediently stayed still.
Her serenity, however, had a reason behind it.
Bisky, in her "True Form," charged like a speeding locomotive, slamming into the toad-like "medium-sized creature" with immense force.
Boom—
The massive toad-like creature was sent flying, crashing into other beasts hidden in the shadows and falling in a chaotic heap.
Then, she tensed her right arm behind her.
In the next moment, her fist shot out like a bullet, shattering the skull of a beast that had crept too close!
But Bisky didn't stop there!
Scela watched, wide-eyed, as she moved between the campfire's light and the encroaching darkness, sometimes diving into the shadows, other times standing at the boundary of light and dark, drenched in blood like a war goddess.
She stood resolutely beside Sanbica and the injured moose centaur warrior.
The surrounding beasts prowled, but none dared approach Sanbica, let alone disrupt her healing.
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