Chương 14: Desperate Escape

The carriage rolled through the deepening night, wheels creaking rhythmically over the rough road. After the exhausting fight against the mantises, all three of us were drained, some more than others. I leaned against the wooden side, my wounds bandaged but still burning. Galer sat quietly, eyes half-closed. Husher occasionally muttered complaints about wanting to rest on a better ride. The adrenaline had long faded, leaving only heavy exhaustion and the quiet satisfaction of a job completed.

None of us sensed the danger that followed. Five bandits who had watched our earlier grudge match from the shadows had followed the carriage as a targeted mark. They had planned to jump us earlier, but Galer and Husher had moved too fast. Now they saw the slow-moving carriage as easy prey... tired warriors with loot and no vigilance. Deep into the night, the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt. Three bandits stepped boldly into the road, weapons drawn, while two others crept toward the sides, hidden.

"Payment for safe passage!" the leader snarled with a mocking grin.

"Hand over some coins, and we'll let you live and give you free passage." Galer and Husher exchanged a single tired glance. Both were still far from full strength, but the interruption ignited pure irritation.

"Another damn delay?" Husher growled.

"I just want to get some proper rest." Galer's voice was ice-cold.

"Let's make this quick." They leaped from the carriage without hesitation. The three bandits in front barely raised their weapons before Galer's glowing light knives flashed like falling stars and Husher's bubbling fists crashed forward with raw power. The fight was short, brutal, and one-sided. The bandits quickly realized they had attacked the wrong people, these were the same two who had nearly dueled fiercely earlier that day.

"Sorry! It was just a joke!" one screamed as he took a hard blow.

"If we knew it was you..." They groveled, begging for mercy and even offering their shoes as pathetic tokens of surrender. Galer and Husher still beat them thoroughly, enough to leave them bruised, broken, and sobbing on the ground, but not dead. Then they returned to the carriage, breathing hard. I was too weak and sleepy to register much of it. The rocking motion and pain from my wounds had pulled me into a deep, half-conscious daze.

While the two fought at the front, the other two bandits had quietly slipped into the back, grabbed me (still limp and sack-like from exhaustion), and dragged me away along with a good amount of the goods. The carriage continued toward Plew without me, since both Galer and Husher now sat at the front with the rider to protect him from any further nuisances. Only twenty minutes later did they notice the silence. The rider who checked the back told them the boy was gone.

Husher cursed, but surprisingly agreed to help on finding me without even Galer asking him.

"I still want that revenge match. So i'm coming with you, Galer." The rider continued alone to Plew to deliver the warning about the mantises and request reinforcements from the Graf. Galer and Husher turned back immediately. They found the ambush site and followed the fresh footprints. After twenty minutes of running through woods, creeks, and over hills, the tracks vanished near a dense line of ancient trees.

"They're tree-hopping," Husher concluded. Galer nodded grimly.

"We track from the ground and look for broken branches above. This will be slow, but the most optimal path forward for finding them with Erumes." The pursuit became painstakingly slow. Every jump required careful scanning for disturbed leaves and snapped twigs. It took them far longer than expected. Meanwhile, I woke violently inside a rough sack, being carried roughly through the forest. Every time I tried to speak...

"Eyyy, Galer, what's happening?", a heavy fist slammed into the sack until I blacked out again followed. When I finally regained consciousness, I was thrown into a crude iron-bar cell deep inside a massive cave system. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the stench of cheap alcohol. Outside, at least thirty bandits were celebrating wildly around fires, drinking and dancing.

"Best haul in weeks!" one roared. Five bandits were being beaten and yelled at by the others.

"Fruits? Insect carcasses? And a one-armed cripple boy? What the hell were you thinking? He doesn't look worth anything!" I screamed through the bars, "Let me go! I'm not worth anything to you!" No one cared. They had grown completely numb to the cries of captives by now. My voice only annoyed them. I was hungry, exhausted, and suffering from a splitting migraine caused by being slammed against tree branches. Later, the Vice Leader, a burly man with a buzzcut in a brunette color wielding a massive hammer...

approached my cell. He tossed a half-eaten apple through the bars.

"Who are you, boy? Someone important?"

"No," I answered truthfully. He kicked the bars hard.

"Then how do you have Ironcoal armor on you?" He examined the stripped pieces.

"No right arm, just a stump… and that slave brand. H symbol. You're a runaway slave, aren't you?" I stayed silent on that remark.

"Ah, smarty-pants," he spat.

"We'll find out which hole you crawled out of. In one week we'll send word to your master. Let's see how they react to that nice H mark runaway, imagine the coin for that alone. Hahahaha!" He walked away laughing. In that moment I understood the terrible truth. I had at most one week before Metia learned of my location. After that, either a quick death or something far more creative and agonizing awaited me.

My mind betrayed me with a vision of Görlitz standing over me, his griffithor perched beside him, the creature's massive beak striking down while the overseer's whip cracked behind it. Both of them laughing as if my suffering were a sport. The thought alone was enough to twist my stomach and freeze my breath. I grabbed the bars in haste and pulled with everything I had left, but my weakened hands couldn't bend the thick iron even slightly. Two miserable days dragged by.

I spoke with the other weakened prisoners, gathered what information I could, and occasionally tried (and failed) to bend the bars out of sheer boredom. Food was minimal just enough to keep us alive but weak. On the third day, distant screams and heavy impacts echoed through the cave. Six hours earlier, before the screams began echoing through the cave, Galer and Husher had finally located the hidden entrance after their painstaking tree-hopping pursuit.

They took a short break behind a thicket to catch their breath and plan ahead. Husher cracked his knuckles, a dangerous grin spreading across his rough face.

"Leave the scouting to me. I used to be a scammer until very recently and a damn good one before I got serious about the merc side of things. I know how these low-life types think. I can blend in." Galer gave him a long look, then asked, "You sure? If they sniff you out, you're dead." Husher shrugged, already loosening his posture and letting his shoulders slump into a more slovenly, bandit-like slouch.

"I've spent years pretending to be someone I'm not. This is just another role. Watch and learn." He stepped out from cover and walked straight toward the cave entrance like he belonged there. His short hair, scarred face, and natural swagger made him look every bit the mid-tier bandit. The two guards at the entrance barely glanced at him.

"New face? Are you joining us from Wutta's bandit offer of 1 silver a day?" one grunted. Husher spat on the ground casually.

"Just got jumped by some fancy mercs on the road. Lost my gear. Heard Wutta's crew always needs extra hands and the 1 silver was just the best deal, a bandit could ask for. Got any ale around here left?" The guards laughed and waved him through. From that moment on, Husher's infiltration began. He moved through the smoky, torch-lit tunnels with surprising ease, nodding at random bandits like old acquaintances and muttering complaints about "those damn merchants" to anyone who looked his way.

When someone asked who he was, he had an excuse ready in seconds,... sometimes claiming he came from a smaller branch near the Dacram border, other times saying he was a caravan guard who got tired of honest work. His street-smart charm and natural asshole energy made him fit right in. For four long hours, Husher lived the role completely. He drank cheap ale with a group of raiders, laughed at their crude jokes, and even joined in a quick arm-wrestling match to prove he wasn't soft.

While doing so, he carefully mapped the cave's structure in his mind: main hall, sleeping quarters, storage caves, prisoner cells, and escape tunnels. He counted roughly at least 105 members and then got confirmation from a guard that there were a total of 117. He learned there were around 20 captives, including several children taken from recent raids. He identified the Vice Leader, a hulking man with a massive hammer who loved to brag, and the strategist Hüllsen, a sharp-eyed man who handled planning.

Most importantly, he got whispers about the leader: Wutta. The bandits spoke of him with a mix of fear and awe.

"He's got recently Vestuto," one drunk muttered, "but nobody's ever seen it and lived to tell the tale about it." No one knew the type, because anyone who witnessed it usually ended up as red paste on the cave walls, for some reason. Husher played the part perfectly, loud when needed, quiet when listening, always ready with a crude joke or complaint. He even took a real leak outside when the moment came, just to keep the act believable.

When the others found it odd that he didn't use the cave's waste holes, he shrugged and said, "Old habit from caravan life. I like fresh air, when taking a leak." After four hours of careful observation and conversation, Husher slipped back out under the excuse of "taking another leak." Once safely outside the cave mouth, he dropped the slovenly act and sprinted back to Galer with precise intelligence.

"117 members. 20 captives. Vice Leader is a hammer brute. Strategist is Hüllsen. Leader Wutta definitely has Vestuto, but they don't know what kind, and no one survives seeing it. A bigger branch is coming to visit in three days. We have two days max to get him out." Galer nodded grimly.

"Then we hit tonight. No wasting time waiting around." Back in the present, the screams grew louder. The cave shook with powerful impacts. The Vice Leader was locked in combat with Husher.

"You scamming fucker! I gave you food, we talked about ale and women, and you used my good mood to get information from me, you trashy bastard! I will smash you to a pie! I'll sober up once I crush you with my hammer!" Husher danced around with his bubbling defense, fighting fiercely. Galer, wielding his glowing light knives, located the prisoner area and sliced through the bars of my cell with precise strikes.

"Are you hurt?" he asked urgently. Before I could answer, a massive, corpulent figure... 1. 88 meters tall, wearing only light clothes, came rolling down from above the ceiling of the wall, like a living avalanche. Those who couldn't dodge were instantly crushed, bones shattered, blood spraying across the stone floor. Wutta turned and charged again.

Galer attempted a counter, but the man ignored the light blades entirely and slammed him into the wall with such force that the entire cave foundation trembled violently on his impact. This was clearly the leader, and he hadn't even used Vestuto yet. The battle turned chaotic and epic. Galer adapted quickly, using the cave walls to redirect Wutta's crushing momentum so the bandit leader would slam into stone instead of flesh.

Husher finished the Vice Leader with a devastating double bubble implosion, one to the chin, one to the groin... and immediately joined the fray of the fighting giants of strongest Animo. Even Husher's protective bubbles struggled against Wutta's raw power. Galer had to hurl golden-powered knives to save him, pinning the giant momentarily high against the wall. Wutta finally roared, voice booming with rage.

"I don't like talking during battle, it's a waste! But you insects are wasting my time! Just wait until my boys arrive. We'll crush every last one of you to mere dust!" He didn't realize most of his men were already dead or incapacitated because of us and his own uncontrolled power. The fight intensified into a desperate, close-quarters war. Wutta finally unleashed his "Vestuto". His body transformed horrifically, swelling into a monstrous, rock-armored dinosaur-like beast, fatter, stronger, and faster than before.

But he had almost no control over it. In his rage, he began smashing through every wall and pillar, collapsing entire sections of the cave in a cataclysm of falling stone and dust. The three of us were the only ones who made it out alive thanks to the bubbles tanking the fall. The monstrous form immediately targeted us. We ran for our lives through the collapsing cave and into the forest. Wutta pursued like a living landslide, smashing ancient trees into splinters as if they were matchsticks.

The ground shook with every impact. The only hope was to keep the beast rolling until either his or our stamina gave out. Husher carried me on his back because of my weakened state. Both men knew that in a direct fight now they would die. The only reason we survived this long was that Wutta... despite his terrifying Animo of 2, 205 that Husher told us after reading it to us, had no self-control over his Vestuto. It was as if someone had forcibly awakened it before he was ready.

After three grueling hours of high-speed pursuit over 200 km/h, zig-zagging through dense forest… Wutta finally un-Vestutoed. He was breathing heavily, but still dangerous to us.

"Oh, I did it again… destroyed the cave," he muttered. Then his eyes lit with vicious glee.

"Well anyway… cant dwell on what's been done, let's kill you swines first though, for what you've done to our den!" Galer and Husher had almost nothing left. I was the only one still able to move, though barely. Yet the small flame inside me refused to die. I stepped forward. For long, desperate minutes I fought Wutta alone… dodging his massive fists, slashing with my longsword whenever I saw an opening, buying precious seconds. He lost roughly 15% of his condition from my furious, fiery attacks.

Just as his hand descended to pierce my heart, Galer and Husher recovered enough to rejoin the fight. They attacked from both sides with everything they had left. Wutta raised a massive stone barrier at the last moment, smashing them into the ground. He prepared to finish us, but when the barrier broke, I grabbed his leg with my remaining strength. He kicked me viciously. Husher used his final bubble implosion on Wutta's back. Galer hurled two glowing knives from above, slicing cleanly through both of Wutta's ears.

The bandit leader screamed in agony, eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Galer and Husher grabbed me and we hobbled away as fast as our battered bodies allowed.

"This battle of attrition… we're going to lose," Galer panted.

"He's still too strong even without Vestuto. I took his ears. He'll need time to recover. We have maybe one hour, at most, to escape." We ran again. Finally, we reached the active main road, which was too alive with travelers, merchants, and potential new enemies. Wutta was terrifyingly close behind, still recovering. As the open road appeared before us, he stopped and bellowed after us with pure hatred:"We will see each other soon enough! I will get my pounce on you guys for my den and my boys! Hahaha!

And you will not see it coming!" He turned and vanished back into the forest. A deep wave of relief washed over us as the immediate threat finally disappeared. We flagged down another carriage, completely spent and having lost nearly all our equipment. Galer reassured me quietly, "I still have enough money to replace everything. Life is worth far more than any item that we lost." As the carriage carried us to Plew through the early dawn, we laughed... tired, battered, bloodied, but alive.

It was the laughter of survivors who had cheated near-certain death for the first time. The small flame in my chest burned stronger than ever as we reached Plew.