The squad gathered before dawn, horses snorting clouds of mist into the cold air as they assembled before the gates of Fort Thragg. Packhorses stood among them, laden with supplies for a week in the wilds.
They had barely begun to move when a man and a woman wearing the colors of Adro stepped into their path.
"Who goes there?" Captain Tommy demanded.
The woman stepped forward and tossed him a sealed envelope.
"We are sent here on the orders of Lord Junta."
Tommy caught the letter and cracked the seal. His eyes skimmed the contents.
His face scrunched up like someone had just taken a shit in his breakfast.
"You can't be serious. We already have orders and a full squad. Taking civilians will only slow us down," Tommy said.
A second figure stepped forward, his perfectly coiffed hair and tidy coat appearing as if he were ready for a social outing.
"We are to accompany you to investigate the ruins," the man replied, turning up his nose at the captain. "If you don't like it, take it up with the duke's son."
Captain Tommy scowled, clearly wanting to argue. Osmal could see the calculation behind the man's eyes. Too bad the letter bore the duke's seal.
Osmal could sympathize. He was already adjusting his plans as the staff prepared mounts for the newcomers. The delay cost them nearly an hour before they were finally on the road.
The two rode in the center of the column, sitting stiffly atop their horses.
Osmal snorted inwardly.
Lower nobility, clearly. Barely on par with a middling sect member in terms of strength.
Not a good sign. Were these two cannon fodder, sent to test the waters? If they tried anything fishy with him, there might be some accidents on this mission.
Three days of harsh travel did nothing to improve his opinion.
Their first real encounter with monsters made matters worse.
The two nobles proved even more cautious than most sect members. They only acted when victory was all but guaranteed.
Osmal supposed it wasn't all bad.
Their company worked on merit. The more monsters you killed, the bigger your share.
Those silver spoons could sit safely in the rear while he harvested the rewards. And the rewards were juicy indeed.
A warren of badger things harassed them for half the journey, striking at odd hours and melting back into the wilderness.
But as they climbed the plateau where the ruins lay, the attacks stopped.
Completely.
It was like crossing an invisible line.
The ambient energy was noticeably denser here, probably the result of several ley lines converging deep below the plateau.
No wonder Samatra had built a city here long ago.
The energy felt refreshing; his core recovering far faster than it had even in his cave back at the sect.
Which raised an obvious question.
Where were the monsters?
Such a rich environment, filled with rare herbs and natural treasures, would never remain unclaimed.
Captain Tommy seemed to share the thought.
"Stay sharp. I don't like this," he muttered.
The horses stomped nervously, ears twitching. After some coaxing, the column continued forward.
Osmal thought he was prepared.
Even with his Iron Web technique active, he never saw them coming.
They slipped through his net from above, quiet and deadly.
A soldier was ripped from his saddle and dragged screaming into the thick canopy before anyone could react.
Osmal survived only by luck.
His horse flinched sideways just as a massive ape crashed down where he had been sitting.
The creature's fist came down like a hammer.
Bone crunched as the blow smashed into the horse's skull. The gust from the blow nearly knocked him sideways.
His poor horse collapsed instantly, dropping like a puppet with its strings cut. Reacting on instinct, Osmal rolled free—only for one foot to snag in the stirrup.
He swore internally.
The massive ape was undeterred by its miss, swinging its gore-covered fist toward his face.
Osmal yanked desperately. His foot finally tore free just as the blow tore through the air where his chest had been.
Rolling backward, he slammed hard onto his knees before scrambling upright.
Energy surged through him as his recently strengthened core came alive.
Without hesitation, he lunged forward.
His fist struck the ape's arm.
Smoke blossomed at the point of impact, the faint outline of a phoenix flaring as his technique burned through fur and flesh. The monster shrieked, its arm withering where the strike landed.
It clearly hadn't expected such force from someone half its size.
Osmal gave it no time to recover, following up with a flurry of blows.
He struck again, fast as a viper.
His Fist Beats Sword technique flashed out with an explosion of blood. The blow severed the ape's arm at the elbow. Even while he attacked, he could hear the captain shouting orders.
"Form up, use spears, keep them at a distance," Tommy shouted, his loud voice surprisingly calm.
Osmal only had time to notice a large ape rip Buntar from his saddle before his own fight consumed him.
Following the command, they scrambled to form a solid circle of spears. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. The older apes began to fall back, but a few younger ones were too caught up in the blood frenzy. They charged the spear wall anyway, shrieking as forged spears punched through their bodies.
After breaking his attacker's legs, Osmal had also retreated to the safety of the spear wall.
The ambush had been sudden and brutal, but the soldiers knew what they were doing. The apes had expected an easy slaughter.
Instead, they met steel and disciplined resistance. The soldiers moved together, using their longer spears to impale the monsters. A sharp hooting cry echoed from deeper in the forest.
A signal.
The monsters began to retreat.
Osmal broke from the lines and severed a fleeing ape's leg at the knee. Lina hit another in the back with an acidic bolt, causing it to howl in pain as it fled.
As quickly as they had appeared, the apes vanished into the trees.
Silence fell.
Breathing hard, Osmal surveyed the aftermath.
Injured horses whinnied and thrashed. Even battle-trained mounts had panicked during the attack. Two packhorses had bolted entirely, scattering supplies.
Several soldiers limped through the clearing, searching for their comrades.
Others lay still.
Crushed skulls. Broken torsos.
One poor bastard had been trampled by a runaway horse. Somewhere deeper in the trees, a man was screaming, still being dragged away with his foot caught in a stirrup.
Osmal turned back to the first monster he had crippled.
The ape had orange fur and a flat skull, its beady eyes filled with rage and pain. Orange-stained teeth snapped at him as it tried to crawl away with one arm and one leg missing.
Osmal felt no remorse.
Nor did he feel any satisfaction as he ended it.
He knew exactly why he was still alive.
Luck.
That ambush could easily have turned his head into crushed paste.
Others had not been so fortunate.
Buntar from the Blue Spring Sect was among the dead.
At least four soldiers had been killed outright. Another four carried serious injuries.
Just like that, half their strength lay bleeding in the dirt.
Captain Tommy spat onto the ground.
"What a mess. Fultor, you, Ian, and Owen are on lookout. The rest of you, gather the wounded. We're returning to the fort."
It was a sensible order.
One that was immediately overruled.
"We are not doing that."
The reedy voice belonged to Tartus, one of the noble fops.
Tommy scowled, unable to hide his disgust.
"What do you mean we're not doing that? Half my men are dead or wounded. Continuing is the height of stupidity."
Tartus sneered.
"We have orders to investigate the ruins."
"We've already taken losses. Proceeding now is reckless. We return to the fort and come back with a stronger force," Tommy snapped.
Tartus turned up his nose at the captain. "The losses are acceptable. We will continue."
Tommy's jaw tightened.
"This is a very bad idea. We should return."
"Your concern is noted, Captain," Tartus said smoothly. "But remember—we are here on the duke's son's orders. Returning without investigating the ruins could easily be interpreted as treason."
Tommy swore under his breath and turned away.
Tartus smiled faintly and raised his voice so everyone could hear.
"Do not falter. Any who participates in scouting the ruins will receive double merit for this outing."
The carrot to go along with the stick.
A very juicy carrot indeed.
Double merit.
The surviving soldiers exchanged looks.
Yes, the danger was obvious. And yes, those two arrogant nobles were clearly using them as disposable scouts.
But if they survived…
The rewards would be immense.
That was how they got you.