CH237 Alex And Three Hundred Fangs

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High above, a black bird soared through the night sky, weaving elegantly beneath the thin crescent moon.

White-gold streaks across its body shimmered faintly, lending it an otherworldly presence as its wide wingspan cut through the night air.

But this was no ordinary bird.

It was an apex predator.

Its wings, spanning two and a half meters, glimmered with a dangerous shadowy haze. Its talons gleamed like polished silver daggers—capable of slicing steel as easily as butter—while its crimson eyes blazed with predatory malice.

Those burning eyes locked onto a cluster of tents scattered within a human encampment below.

From its vantage point, the entire camp lay exposed—its defenses pitifully fragile. Guards patrolled the perimeter with lazy steps. Torches sputtered like dying candles. Blind corners stretched too long, where watchmen lingered carelessly. Even the makeshift walls sagged from fatigue and poor discipline.

The camp was naked, helpless.

The predator dipped lower, gliding soundlessly above the tents with haunting grace, studying every weakness.

Then—

Shreeee!!

Its piercing cry split the night like an omen of death.

The watchmen stiffened, spines tingling in primal fear. Their heads snapped upward toward the source of that dreadful sound… the beast of the skies, crimson eyes glaring down.

Unaware… that this was the final sight they would ever see.

From the bushes nearby, a shadowed group drew near.

Hoods concealed their faces in layers of darkness, but their eyes glimmered with cruel, merciless light.

Blades were drawn without a whisper. Arrows nocked without a sound.

Their boots pressed against grass and underbrush, yet the night itself seemed to swallow their footsteps.

At their head strode a man whose hood was no mere cloth—but seemingly apart of his very being. From within, only his eyes were visible.

Crimson eyes.

Eyes that mirrored those of the predator soaring above.

It was as though he shared its vision—as though the camp lay just as naked and exposed to him as it did to the beast.

Torchlight flickered in his gaze, but he was not looking at the obvious. His eyes seemed to pierce far deeper.

"Pitch darkness," his voice was low, cold. "Perfect weather for an ambush."

The avian beast above suddenly dove, wings slicing the air with terrifying speed. For an instant it seemed poised to strike at the shadowy force below—

But just a meter above their heads, it pulled up in a graceful arc, gliding past as the hooded leader raised a hand.

"No hostages. Kill them all."

At once, the underbrush exploded with motion. The Shadows surged forward, the predator above swooping in tandem as if heralding their charge.

An endless tide of darkness crashed against the exposed wooden walls of the camp.

Shreeee!!

The avian's cry resounded once more, echoing across the night—

The signal of slaughter.

The first note in a symphony of chaos!

[A.N: I think I was possessed by something when writing the above part. *Wry Smile*]

Three hundred Fangs under Alex's command surged into the Kellerman army's rearmost supply unit like silent spectres of death.

Thanks to the aerial vision provided by Senu, the Fangs slipped into the camp through its weak points with surgical precision.

The lax night watchmen fell swiftly, throats slit before they could even gasp. Patrolmen collapsed with arrows buried in their chests, while the unlucky soldiers stepping out of their tents were seized and silenced, choking on their own blood.

Those still sleeping within their tents met no better fate. They were slaughtered in their sleep—albeit clueless and painlessly.

From above, the [Black Shroud] cloaking the Fangs spread across the camp like a devouring tide. A cone of darkness that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind only splashes of crimson as evidence of the carnage.

Speed was the essence of the ambush. There was no time wasted on "honourable" duels.

Higher-ranked Fangs were struck down on lower ranked hostiles without hesitation.

If one Fang couldn't swiftly finish an opponent, others immediately piled in, overwhelming the target with ruthless efficiency.

This was not a clash of valour or strength. No—it was a massacre born of shadows, where swift deaths and chaos reigned supreme.

At the forefront was, unsurprisingly, Major Jaeger. He revelled in the slaughter, hacking and cleaving through anyone foolish enough to stand in his path. His tally of kills in those brief moments far outstripped anyone else.

Close behind him advanced General Alex Fury and Colonel Conrad Hoist.

The grim-faced Colonel covered Jaeger's blind spots, shooting down any who escaped the Major's blade. Meanwhile, Alex maintained the [Black Shroud]—the veil of darkness that masked the Fangs' movements.

Though the weakest in raw combat power, Alex's contribution was indispensable. He was the sole spellcaster of the unit, the linchpin enabling this night raid.

Yet even while sustaining the spell, Alex fought with surprising competence, stepping into melee battles whenever necessary—something that did not go unnoticed by the Colonel.

Amid the slaughter, one Kellerman soldier on the camp's outskirts managed to keep his wits. His eyes locked onto Alex, recognizing the mage as the core of the ambush.

Without hesitation, the soldier charged, rallying others to pin down Colonel Hoist, Major Jaeger, and the surrounding Fangs.

With cover secured, he lunged, spear aimed to skewer Alex's heart.

But Alex was ready.

He sidestepped smoothly, parrying the shaft away with his right arm. In the same fluid motion, his wristblade snapped outward from the Beta Bracer, plunging upwards from beneath the soldier's jaw, driving deep into his skull.

Bark!

A sharp, urgent cry rang out from behind him.

Without hesitation, Alex shifted his stance—his Velkar instinct guiding him.

[Ice Bolt]

An icicle shot past his shoulder, slamming into a soldier creeping up from behind to ambush him, and pinning the soldier to the ground.

Alex wasted no time.

He kicked up the fallen soldier's spear, catching it mid-air, and spun it into motion. The shaft swept aside an enemy blade strike before darting forward like a serpent, piercing another soldier clean through the throat.

Blood sprayed as the spear withdrew, only to sweep low, knocking the legs from the soldier he had just parried. In one fluid motion, Alex drove the spear downward, impaling the man's heart and nailing him into the dirt.

The flurry of movements took but seconds—Alex dancing at the razor's edge of death, yet somehow holding his ground with unnerving calm.

The Fury troops closed ranks, forming a rough defensive circle around him.

Colonel Hoist shot him a worried glance, but Alex gave no verbal response. Instead, he raised his free hand and unleashed another spell toward the encroaching enemies.

[Chain Lightning]!

Bolts crackled outward, leaping from one soldier to the next. The arcs of electricity seared flesh, numbing limbs and paralyzing bodies mid-stride.

Though the stronger soldiers shook it off quickly, those precious moments of vulnerability were more than enough. The Fangs swarmed in—arrows finding gaps in armour, blades carving into flesh, mercilessly cutting down the disabled foes.

Fifteen minutes.

That was all it took for Alex's three hundred Fangs to butcher a force over three times their size. The thousand-strong supply unit was reduced to fewer than a hundred survivors before they finally managed to regroup at the camp's core.

But the survivors were no ordinary rabble.

Where the outer ranks had been made of conscripted militia—barely Intermediate rank at best—the final hundred were hardened elites. Most stood at Elite rank, with their Battalion Commander himself a Veteran ranker.

Yet even this mattered little.

Against the Fangs—stronger in both quality and numbers—the outcome was already set in stone.

Even without Major Jaeger, Colonel Hoist, or Alex making a decisive move, the battle's conclusion was inevitable.

But Alex had no intention of letting victory come with heavy casualties. His voice cut through the chaos:

"Attack together. Take no prisoners."

[Lightning Lance]!

A brilliant spear of lightning erupted from his hand, piercing straight into an armoured foe. The metal only worsened his fate, conducting the electricity and frying him alive within his shell.

The Fangs surged forward, a tide of shadows and steel. The remaining hostiles were crushed under their blades, some managing only a few desperate strikes before falling.

A handful, however, broke formation and turned to flee.

Alex's gaze sharpened. In a swift motion, he kicked up a broken short spear from the ground, cut it to size, and hurled it like a javelin. The weapon spun through the air and struck a fleeing soldier square in the back, pinning him where he stood.

"Let none escape."

His cold command sealed their fates.

Following Alex's command, the Fangs loosed a merciless storm of arrows. Any fleeing soldier caught in their sights was cut down before they could take another step.

[Shadow Scream]! [Dream Dive]! [Spatial Rend]!

[Ice Breath]! [Fire Breath]! [Ice Bolt]! [Fireball]!

Senu and Fen joined the slaughter. Fen, in particular, displayed its improved mastery over its twin elemental affinities—ice and fire—unleashing one after the other with devastating force.

The drawback, however, remained. To use each element, Fen had to constantly shift between its two states. But now, at least, its speed of transformation was sharp enough to be viable—somewhat—in actual combat.

Within half an hour, the thousand-strong camp lay in ruin. Where once there had been soldiers, tents, and supplies, now only corpses remained. The stench of blood and charred flesh clung to the night air.

Alex turned to leave, only for Colonel Hoist to drag a captive before him. Bound and bleeding, the man was shoved onto his knees.

It was the Veteran-ranked leader of the camp.

"I am a noble! You cannot kill me!" the man cried out in desperation.

"General, this man claims noble birth," Colonel Hoist explained.

"I am Baron Dick of Harrisville, under Earl Kellerman's domain!" the prisoner stammered. "I demand the rights of nobility! Grant me proper treatment and allow me to ransom myself!"

Alex's crimson eyes locked onto the man. From beneath the shadow of his hood, those eyes burned—a madness hidden behind calm calculation—piercing through the noble as though to strip him bare.

Then—

Shing!

The Beta Bracer's wrist blade slid out.

Before the man could utter another word, Alex drove the blade straight through his open mouth, piercing out the back of his skull.

Thud!

The corpse slumped to the ground, twitching before going still.

Alex turned to Colonel Hoist, his voice cold, absolute.

"This is no longer a conventional war. The Rules of War no longer applies. When I say no prisoners… I mean no prisoners."

Colonel Hoist bowed his head, grim-faced. "Understood, General."

"Good." Alex nodded curtly. "Have the men clear the scene. Take what we can, destroy the rest. Move fast—we still need to strike the other two supply camps before the main force senses something is wrong."

"By your command."

The three hundred Fangs—Alex's spectres of death—vanished into the night.

Hours later, they fell upon the remaining two supply units of the Kellerman army, seizing the supply line in a brutal campaign of fire and blood.

But victory came at a price. Nearly half of the original three hundred Fangs lay dead on the battlefield.

Yet with their sacrifice, they dragged down at least five thousand enemies. A bloody exchange—but a profitable one, so far as the Fury forces were concerned.

Even so, there was no time to rest.

Before the weary unit could catch their breath, Alex received grim tidings: the battle for Werth against the Wildkin had begun. Not long after, another missive arrived—North Dankrot Fort was under attack.

Though exhaustion weighed heavily on them, Alex rallied the remnants of the Fangs. Together, they marched at full speed back toward the fort.

By the time they arrived, the Kellerman siege machines were already in position—massive engines of war looming over the horizon, their shadows bearing down on the battered fort walls.

The siege of North Dankrot had begun.

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