Chapter 7 - 6

Chapter 7: Chapter 6 Morale among the troops was high. "We won!" one soldier cheered. "At this rate, we might survive!" "Yeah, the Decurions knew what they were doing. No regrets following them." Lumberling returned to the archer squad. They had to move—fast—to set up the next ambush. But plans rarely survived the battlefield. Their allies had launched simultaneous attacks and were now under pursuit themselves. A pigeon landed on the Decurion’s arm. He opened the tiny message and barked new orders. "Change of plans! We’re assisting our allies. The enemy’s pursuing them!" Lumberling and the rest veered off, trekking through rocky terrain toward their destination. The sounds of battle grew louder—clashing steel, desperate screams. Their allies were locked in combat with over 200 infantry. They charged in, but they were barely a hundred strong. Lumberling gripped his spear and activated Sprint, aiming straight for the nearest enemy. He didn’t go after Knight Pages. Not yet. He needed to thin the herd. His spear shot forward like lightning, piercing a soldier’s throat—then bursting through and striking another behind him. (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence. 5 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Infantry Soldier’s memories and experiences.) He yanked his spear out, dodged a blow, then swept sideways—cleanly beheading his attacker. (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) He killed, moved, defended, struck again. But even his efforts couldn’t shift the battle. Two Knight Pages held back the Decurions. They wouldn’t be coming to help. The rest of the squad was getting torn apart. From nearly a hundred, their numbers dropped below thirty. The enemy still had more than a hundred. "Huff... huff... How long do I have to keep fighting?" His body felt heavy. His arms trembled. "Should I run now...? No. Not yet. Fight a bit longer." His skills were growing rapidly, but he couldn’t take joy in it—not while death circled them. Then came the breaking point. A familiar voice shouted—then silence. Lumberling turned just in time to see the Decurion skewered by enemy blades. That was it. The last straw. With no one to hold back the Knight Pages, his comrades fell even faster. "Shit... I knew this was going too well." Calming his mind, he turned and ran. "Sprint." He poured the last of his stamina into the skill. He could maybe use it twice more—at most. "Pentalinians are cowards! Running like rats!" an enemy barked behind him. Lumberling didn’t understand the language, but the tone was obvious. He glanced back. Nearly twenty soldiers were chasing him—including a Knight Page. "What the hell is my luck? A Knight Page too?" But his lips curled into a grin. "Let’s see how long you last." He switched to his bow and darted through the mountain trails he’d memorized during his scouting days. One soldier tripped over a hidden string and fell. Lumberling spun, loosed an arrow, and ran again. The poisoned tip found its mark. (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) ’One down. Nineteen to go.’ More traps awaited. Three soldiers fell into a pit of sharpened stakes. (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) "So even trap kills count? Good. My prep wasn’t wasted." Then came a new prompt. (Beginner Spearmanship has reached Level 1. Power +100.) A rush of strength surged through him. His own training, Uncle Drake’s lessons, and the memories he’d absorbed melded together—forming real insight. His body recovered slightly, stamina refilled. "A hundred power boost? This must be how Knights grow so strong." With this physique, he could fight a Knight Page on equal footing—though their combat skills still outclassed him. But this was enough. For now. His pursuers stopped. They sensed more traps. Lumberling halted too, turned, and loosed another arrow. (You have devoured the Infantry Soldier’s essence...) He smiled, provoked them, fired again. Then—danger. A soldier burst from cover, saber gleaming. Lumberling reacted instantly, drawing a dagger and parrying. Clang! The impact rattled his bones. He reached into his pouch and flung a small sack at the attacker. It burst—spraying caustic lye across the man’s face. He screamed, writhing. Lye—burning alkali made from ash and water. Perfect. "Sprint." Lumberling escaped again, not looking back. He didn’t stop until he found a quiet, rocky slope. Safe. Or so he thought. A saber thrust from behind—straight for his heart. He ducked. "Not falling for that again, motherf—!" He slashed upward, catching his attacker off guard. Blood sprayed. It was the same Knight Page from before. His face was burned—red welts across cheek and neck. Stealth skill. Definitely. That explains the sneak attacks. The Knight Page charged, emotionless and relentless. "Whoa, whoa, calm down, Amigo—" No effect. Lumberling rolled, dodged, grabbed dirt, flung it—no effect. The Knight Page’s saber danced, too fast, too clean. Lumberling couldn’t keep up. ’I can’t win like this.’ He reached into his pouch, shoved chili powder and pepper into his mouth. Then, with a war cry, tackled the Knight Page head-on. Steel bit into his shoulder—but he pressed forward. Face to face. He spat. The burning powder hit the Knight Page’s eyes. ’Now!’ Lumberling slashed—deep, clean, final. The body fell. (You have devoured the Knight Page’s essence. 55 essence absorbed.) (Absorbing a portion of the Knight Page’s memories and experiences.) (Passive Skill: Beginner Concealment Lv0 has been learned.) ("We swear to be the empire’s weapon. Our mission is our purpose. We are the assassins of the empire." – Knight Page) "An assassin, huh? That explains the stealth." Lumberling panted, checking his surroundings. No more enemies. "Whew. Almost died there..." He looted the body quickly—coins, weapons, anything useful—then tore the Knight’s uniform and bandaged his wound. Finally, he collapsed under a tree, breathing hard. Eyes closed, he whispered to the dead: "Don’t worry. If I get the chance... I’ll avenge you." He wasn’t close to the Decurions. But they’d fought together. They deserved better. ’This camp... it won’t survive.’ Two squads were wiped out. The enemy still had nearly a thousand. Victory? Impossible. The Pentaline Empire wouldn’t care about nobodies like him, so expecting reinforcements was out of the question. And even if they somehow won by sheer luck, it wouldn’t guarantee their safety—more enemies could still come, now that their camp had been exposed. Right now, Lumberling was weighing two options: join the surviving squads and continue fighting... or go off on his own and rely solely on himself. He opened his icy blue eyes, resolution forming in his gaze. He would join the others—and use the chaos as an opportunity to devour more essence. Besides, he hadn’t completely given up; even if the odds were low, he’d keep fighting. He also wanted to help Uncle Drake survive. Lumberling was truly grateful to him. Of course, if things went south, he wouldn’t hesitate to save himself first. With his skills and a few items, he was confident he could escape. Having settled on a plan, he opened his status window. Name: Lumberling Race: Human Age: 17 Level: 2 Essence Point: (435/710) Power: 287 Knight Stage: Unranked Active Skills: Beginner Sprint Lv0 (293/1000) (Grants a burst of lightning-fast speed. Consumes a large amount of stamina.) Passive Skills: Essence Devour (Automatically devours the essence of those you kill. Absorbs a portion of their special experiences and memories.) Beginner Spearmanship Lv1 (11/1000) Beginner Swordsmanship Lv0 (606/1000) Beginner Bowmanship Lv0 (45/1000) Beginner Concealment Lv0 (1/1000) (Passively lowers your presence and allows you to blend into your surroundings. Proficiency in sneaking increases.) "More than halfway to level 3, and I finally have a level 1 Spearmanship skill," he murmured. "With this and my tricks, I can hold my ground against Knight Pages. My swordsmanship’s almost level 1 too—if I jump into battle, it might level up. Bowmanship’s lagging since I’ve barely devoured any skilled archers, and concealment’s still stuck... I’ll need to train those manually." Despite the long road ahead, he felt a surge of pride. He had come far. "Alright. Time to move." He got up and ascended the mountain path. As he traveled, he noticed his movements becoming lighter, his steps quieter. ’So this is the effect of Concealment...’ He marveled at it and resolved to prioritize training it after leveling up his swordsmanship. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Lumberling finally found the others. The Centurion sat with Second-in-Command Decurion Lance, Decurion Rex, and Uncle Drake, all engaged in serious discussion. Scanning the camp, he counted only around 150 soldiers left. Only 1 Knight Apprentice, 3 Knight Pages, and 150 soldiers remained—this was their final force. Meanwhile, the enemy likely still had 800 to 900 soldiers. "Uncle Drake," he called as he stepped through the weary crowd. "Lumberling?" Uncle Drake stood up, eyes wide. "Thank God—you’re alive." "You’re Lumberling?" the Centurion asked, narrowing his eyes. "Yes, sir," he replied. "I remember you were part of the archer squad. We haven’t received any word from your Decurion. What happened?" The other Decurions looked over, also waiting for an explanation. Lumberling sighed. "They were annihilated. The enemy had twice our numbers, led by two Knight Pages. We fought hard, but our Decurions were surrounded and killed. A few of us escaped... I survived thanks to traps I’d prepared and managed to lose the pursuers. So I returned." "...I see." The Centurion’s expression softened into something rare—sorrow. "It was inevitable," Decurion Lance said, placing a hand on the Centurion’s shoulder. "If not for your strategy, more than half of us would be dead." The Centurion exhaled heavily. "You did well making it back. If we return to the Empire, you’ll be rewarded." "Thank you, sir. I’m just doing my duty," Lumberling said, bowing slightly. "Go rest. We’ll fight again tomorrow." "Yes, Decurion. Then, if you’ll excuse me..."