NOVGO.NET Chapter 439: Wrong Targets
Chapter 439: Wrong Targets
Booooooom!
The impact shattered the quiet.
Damien landed like a meteor among the trees, the shockwave throwing up leaves and dust in a circular burst. His blade flashed once, cutting through the early mist.
“Ahhh!” A scream followed, sharp and panicked. One of the figures nearest him raised an arm too slowly, trying to block—but Damien’s strike met it head-on.
Bang!
L
\The man flew backward like a broken doll, crashing into the thick trunk of an oak.
The forest went still again.
The man slumped to the ground, blood flecking his lips as he coughed, his head rolling sideways before he went still. Damien froze mid-motion, his breath sharp and uneven. He hadn’t hit that hard. He hadn’t.
His hand trembled slightly as he lowered his blade. “What the hell…?”
The remaining six figures stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified. He could hear their breathing—ragged, desperate. None of them moved to attack.
Now that he saw them clearly, his anger faltered. These weren’t soldiers or assassins. Two men, two women, and three children huddled together amid the mist. Their clothes were torn, travel-worn. One of the men was shaking so violently he could barely hold the sword in his hand.
Damien blinked once, realizing. ’They’re terrified of me.’
The man in front of the children swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t kill us.”
Damien exhaled slowly, forcing his own heartbeat to settle. “Who are you?” His tone was firm but no longer sharp.
No one answered immediately. The second woman—her hair streaked with mud and ash—hesitated before stepping slightly forward. “We’re travelers,” she said, her voice small but steady. “From Carwen. We were heading toward Delwig.”
Damien frowned. “Then why are you running through the forest?”
She looked at the unconscious man on the ground. “We were attacked on the road two nights ago. Bandits, maybe worse. He—” she gestured at the man, “—saved us. He’s a mercenary, used to be with a caravan guard. We were trying to reach the city for shelter.”
Her voice cracked then, her hands tightening around one of the children’s shoulders. “We… we didn’t mean any harm.”
Damien sheathed his sword slowly, his mind still trying to reconcile the mess before him. “Then why were you near the northern gate last night?”
The second man, older, gaunt, stepped forward this time, swallowing hard. “We weren’t. Not at first. We camped near the edge of the forest. But we… we saw something.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of something?”
The man shifted uneasily. “A man. We think it was a man. Came running out of the city… dragging something. Someone.” His voice trembled. “We hid. We didn’t want trouble. But we could hear it—the sound. Like someone was choking, struggling.”
Damien said nothing, letting him speak.
The man rubbed his shaking hands together, as if the memory itself burned. “Then he went deeper into the trees. We thought it was over, but maybe twenty minutes later, he came back. Same direction. Dragging the same person again—but this time…” His throat tightened. “This time, the one being dragged wasn’t moving.”
Damien’s stomach turned cold.
“Then?” he pressed, his tone softer now.
The man shook his head. “Then he stopped near the edge of the forest—close to the gate. There was light from the torches. We could see him… bend down. Like he was checking something. Then…” He hesitated. “Then we saw him stab. Once. And he dragged the body back to the city gate.”
For a long time, no one said anything. The forest whispered faintly, branches shifting in the wind.
Damien’s expression didn’t move, but his mind raced. Veyne. The guards. The boy. Someone else had been there. Someone who knew how to kill cleanly, quietly. Someone inside Delwig.
He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling the last of his adrenaline. When he opened them again, he was calm. Too calm.
“I see.”
The travelers flinched when he crouched down beside the unconscious mercenary, checking his pulse. Still alive. A bruise darkened across his chest where Damien’s strike had hit. Damien grimaced slightly, guilt catching in his throat.
“Sorry about your friend,” he muttered, almost too quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“He’ll live, right?” the woman asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Damien said. “He’s tough. I just… overdid it.”
The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He sat down beside them, the tension finally ebbing from his shoulders. For the first time that morning, he looked like someone tired, not dangerous.
“I shouldn’t have attacked without confirming,” he admitted. “You startled me.”
The older man gave a faint, nervous chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “You startled us, sir.”
Despite himself, Damien smirked faintly. “Fair.”
Minutes passed quietly. The children began to relax once they realized he wasn’t going to kill them. One of them—a small girl with tangled brown hair—kept staring at him, clutching a ragged doll to her chest. He ignored the gaze at first, then sighed and offered a tiny wave.
The girl blinked, then smiled shyly.
For a moment, it almost felt normal.
The mercenary groaned softly, shifting as consciousness returned. Damien turned toward him. “Easy,” he said. “Don’t move too quickly. I hit you harder than I should’ve.”
The man blinked blearily, confusion painting his bruised face. “You—what…?”
“You’re safe,” Damien interrupted gently. “Sorry about earlier. I thought you were someone else.”
The man stared for a long second before nodding weakly. “If… if I didn’t know better, I’d think you dropped a tree on me.”
A dry laugh escaped Damien’s throat. “Close enough.”
The tension had finally begun to fade when the ground shuddered faintly. Leaves rustled. The air changed—pressured, electric.
A sound like a hurricane tearing through the treetops split the air.
Damien’s eyes snapped upward. “Oh, for—Aquila!”
The griffin broke through the canopy like a storm given form, her wings cutting the air in gleaming arcs.
Thud!
Kreeee!!
She landed in a whirl of wind and feathers, her claws sinking into the soft soil as she let out a sharp, commanding cry.
“What the hell?!”
“Save us!” The travelers screamed and scattered instinctively. The children clung to their mothers, the mercenary reaching for his sword only to drop it again when the griffin’s shadow passed over him.
Aquila’s eyes narrowed on the nearest moving target—the mercenary himself—and she lunged forward with a guttural snarl, her beak glinting with killing intent.
Damien reacted instantly, his voice cracking through the chaos. “Aquila! Stop!”
The griffin froze mid-lunge, talons inches from the man’s face. The mercenary stared up at her, pale as snow, before promptly fainting again.
For a long second, the forest was silent but for the rapid breathing of the terrified travelers.
Damien pressed a hand to his temple and sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Aquila tilted her head innocently, feathers ruffling as if to say, What? He moved.
“You almost bit his head off,” Damien muttered. “He’s not the enemy.”
The griffin huffed softly, clearly unconvinced, but stepped back, wings folding neatly against her sides.
Damien turned to the group, raising both hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “She won’t hurt you. I swear it.”
No one looked convinced, but at least they weren’t screaming anymore. The small girl peeked out from behind her mother’s cloak, eyes wide in awe at the majestic creature.
Damien crouched near the mercenary again, checking his pulse for the second time that morning. Still alive. Barely conscious, but alive. “You’re resilient,” he muttered under his breath.
When he finally looked up, the travelers were watching him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For all of it. The attack. The scare. I… lost control.”
The woman who’d spoken first shook her head quickly. “You were protecting your city. We understand.”
Damien’s expression softened. “Still. I owe you safe passage.”
The older man frowned. “To where?”
“Through this forest,” Damien replied, standing. “It’s not safe—not now. Mana beasts roam freely this deep, and there are worse things than beasts walking in shadows lately.”
He glanced toward the north, where the treeline thickened and the light began to dim. Somewhere out there, the truth waited—dripping in blood, buried beneath layers of deceit.
But for now, he had people to protect.
He met Aquila’s gaze. The griffin rumbled in quiet acknowledgment, lowering herself enough for the children to see she meant no harm. One of them even reached out a trembling hand to touch her feathers, and Aquila tolerated it with patient dignity.
Damien almost smiled at that. Almost.
“Let’s move,” he said, his voice returning to its command tone. “Stay close. Don’t wander. If you hear anything, anything, tell me immediately.”
The travelers nodded, gathering their things as Damien led the way through the undergrowth.
For a moment, he looked back toward the distant walls of Delwig, their faint silhouette framed against the pale sky.
Someone inside did this, he thought grimly. Someone who wanted us to see the wrong trail.
Aquila’s feathers rustled faintly as she sensed his mood. Damien reached up absently, brushing her side as they walked.
“I know,” he murmured. “We’ll find them.”
The forest swallowed them slowly, the morning light dimming to a green haze as they moved deeper into the Verdant Verge—toward danger, toward truth, toward the unseen hands pulling Delwig’s strings.
And though Damien’s face was calm again, his eyes burned cold and bright beneath the canopy.
The hunter had found his trail.