Chapter 217 Incoming
"No."
The knights fell silent, their eyes fixed on their lord.
Geisler dismounted his horse, his boots crunching against the earth as he strode forward.
He stopped near the larger tracks, staring down at the deep indentations as though they were a personal affront.
He clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers tightening around his wrist.
When he spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate, yet brimming with an icy intensity that sent a chill through his men.
"We follow the beast," Geisler declared. "These women are irrelevant. They are pawns in a game far greater than their insignificant lives. If they survive, they may return to their tribes, but their role here is finished."
He turned to Aldred, his gaze hard and unyielding.
"Do you think I care for their motives? For their survival? No. I care only for the creature that crushed my son—my blood. Maxillian may have been young, arrogant, even reckless, but he was mine.
"This monster dared to challenge the honor of House Geisler, and for that, it will pay in blood."
Geisler paused, his hand gesturing toward the east.
"We march forward. Every step it takes is a step closer to its reckoning. If it believes it can escape, it is mistaken. My son's life will not be reduced to a fleeting memory in the dirt. I will ensure that the last thing this creature sees is my blade."
The knights straightened, their resolve steeling in the presence of their lord's cold fury. "Yes, my lord," they said in unison, their voices firm.
With that, Geisler mounted his horse again, spurring it forward along the larger trail.
The knights followed in a disciplined line, their armor clinking softly as they moved.
Hours passed as they traversed the rugged terrain.
The eastern woods grew darker, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels.
The path became more treacherous, the ground uneven and riddled with roots that clawed at their boots. Enjoy exclusive content from empire
Yet Geisler's resolve never wavered.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, his thoughts consumed by vengeance.
Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the forest, causing the knights to halt.
The sound grew louder, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to shake the ground itself.
From the shadows ahead, a massive figure emerged—a snake-like worm, its pale, segmented body glistening with viscous slime.
Its eyeless head swayed as it hissed, revealing rows of serrated teeth that dripped with venom.
"Prepare yourselves," Aldred commanded, drawing his sword. The knights formed a defensive line, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.
The worm lunged, its gaping maw snapping toward the nearest knight. But these were no ordinary men; they were Geisler's elite.
"Strike true!" Aldred bellowed.
The knights moved with precision, their blades slicing through the worm's flesh. The creature shrieked, its segmented body thrashing violently.
Green ichor sprayed from its wounds, but the knights pressed on, their attacks coordinated and relentless.
Geisler watched from horseback, his expression unchanging. "It's merely an obstacle," he muttered to himself. "Nothing more."
With a final, guttural scream, the worm collapsed, its body convulsing before falling still.
The knights stood over its carcass, their armor splattered with its blood, their breaths coming in sharp gasps.
"Onward," Geisler ordered, his tone as cold as ever. "This beast is nothing compared to what lies ahead."
The knights nodded, falling back into formation as they resumed their march.
The trail of the monstrous humanoid awaited, and with it, the promise of vengeance.
…
The dense canopy of the forest loomed over Volk as he continued his relentless excavation, digging deeper into the earth with the precision of a predator stalking prey.
His green-skinned muscles rippled as the radioactive gauntlet pulsed with energy, effortlessly breaking through the soil and roots that would have hindered any ordinary being.
The vibrations from his efforts echoed faintly in the forest, a steady thud-thud-thud that seemed to meld with the natural rhythms of the wild.
He exhaled deeply, his breath misting in the cool air.
The work was exhilarating, yet taxing.
Dirt and grime smeared his face, but there was a satisfaction in the simplicity of the task.
Volk paused for a moment, leaning on the gauntlet as it emitted a faint, ominous hum.
"Phew," he muttered to himself, glancing at the roughened skin of his other hand.
His brow glistened with sweat, and he instinctively raised his arm to wipe it away.
But then he froze.
The gauntlet—the radioactive beast encasing his arm—was still active.
Its metallic green sheen glimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight.
Volk's instincts screamed at him to tread carefully.
A single careless motion could turn the smallest graze into something catastrophic.
The energy radiating from the gauntlet wasn't just dangerous; it was unpredictable.
Volk pulled back his arm slowly, almost reverently, as if appeasing a temperamental deity.
His eyes narrowed, studying the intricate patterns etched into the metal.
Tiny arcs of green electricity crackled along its surface, a constant reminder of the power it held.
He clenched his jaw, his focus razor-sharp.
With his free hand, he reached into a small leather pouch tied to his waist and withdrew a tattered cloth.
Carefully, with deliberate movements, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his muscles coiled as if expecting an explosion.
The gauntlet buzzed faintly in response to the proximity of his hand, but Volk's steady control kept it in check.
"Easy," he muttered, his voice low and measured, like calming a feral beast.
Each pass of the cloth was meticulous, ensuring no part of his skin brushed against the volatile weapon strapped to his arm.
His breathing slowed, his heart steadying as he completed the task.
When he was done, he let out a long, satisfied exhale.
"There," he said with a smirk, tossing the cloth back into his pouch. "Can't let a little sweat get in the way of perfection."
He flexed his fingers experimentally, the gauntlet responding with a subtle hum.
The power it offered was intoxicating, but Volk was no fool.
He knew better than to let it control him.
"It's a tool," he muttered, as if reaffirming the thought to himself. "Not a master."
Straightening up, he glanced at the churned earth around him.
The digging was done, the ground beneath his feet now a chaotic mess of overturned soil and fractured roots.
Volk grinned, his tusks glinting in the dappled light.
"Well," he said, dusting off his hands, "that's enough playtime. Exercise is done. Now…" He turned, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Time to find the horde."
Suddenly, a chime echoed in his ears, a sharp, resonant ding that snapped him to attention.
A translucent system screen materialized before him, its glowing text stark against the forest's shadowy backdrop.
---
DING!
New Mission: Destroy the entire cavalry of Baron Geisler without turning into Radioactive Form.
Rewards: Directions to each member of the Horde, including their wives.
Failure: Gauntlet Disappearance.
---
Volk's eyes narrowed as he read the mission details. His grin faded, replaced by a contemplative frown.
"So, they're already on their way," he mused, cracking his neck. "Figures."
He reread the mission, his gaze lingering on the conditions. No radioactive form? He snorted.
"What's the fun in that?" he muttered, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand. But then his lips curled into a smirk. "Guess it's a good challenge."
The stakes were high.
The gauntlet had proven itself invaluable, and the thought of losing it wasn't an option.Nôv(el)B\\jnn
His mind raced, piecing together a strategy.
"Cavalry, huh?" he murmured, his grin widening. "Let's see how they handle a little guerrilla warfare."
Volk glanced at the path ahead, his senses sharpening.
Somewhere out there, Baron Geisler's men were marching toward him, armed and ready. But they weren't ready for Volk.
With a final glance at the system screen, Volk clenched his fist, the gauntlet glowing faintly in response.
"Let's get to work," he said, his voice a low growl.