Chapter 72: Second Hunt Finale [1]

Alyse remained still for a long moment, the quiet rustle of the garden leaves the only sound filling the warm air.

Slowly, she lowered the silver watering can, setting it gently down upon the stone ledge beside her.

She exhaled a deep, quiet sigh that carried the weight of her heavy responsibilities, then slightly turned her head to face her attendant.

A soft, serene smile touched her lips.

"Inform Third Young Master Austin Paureen that I am currently overwhelmed with pressing state affairs," Alyse instructed, her voice smooth and melodic.

"Tell him I will contact him in five days to finalize our business. Ensure his family is comfortably accommodated in the Inner City in the meantime, Butler Vorian."

"Understood, My Lady," Butler Vorian replied, his tone smooth and unwavering as he offered a low, precise bow.

Alyse turned back toward her vibrant bed of glowing azure lilies, her blue eyes drifting thoughtfully into the distance.

"While you are here, Vorian... brief me on the recent movements of the Seventh Successor of the Rynchester Duchy."

Vorian straightened his back, his sharp eyes reflecting years of practiced information gathering.

"Regarding Viscount Craig von Darkstar, My Lady... after his astonishing victory over Viscount Myrain and his subsequent seizure of the Myrain Viscounty, he has consolidated his rule with remarkable speed.

At present, he is hosting a realm-wide event he has designated as the ’Craig Festival.’"

He paused briefly before continuing, "As the grand climax of this festival, the Viscount himself is currently leading an organized military hunt directly into a C-level danger zone known as the Jeju Forest. However..." Vorian lowered his head slightly, his tone carrying genuine regret,

"...because operating our intelligence network deep inside the borders of the Rynchester Duchy presents immense logistical barriers, my shadow agents were unable to probe any deeper into his internal castle affairs or his private military strength.

I must humbly apologize for this oversight, Lady Alyse."

Alyse raised her delicate hand, waving it gently through the air to dismiss his apology. "There is no need to apologize, Vorian. Penetrating the Rynchester Duchy’s territory—especially a newly militarized sector under Craig’s direct control—is no simple task. I understand completely."

She reached up, adjusting the brim of her wide brown sunhat as a brief, contemplative shadow crossed her features.

"For now, direct your primary network inward. Monitor every suspicious noble movement and rogue magical activity within the Vraxen Duchy, and report any anomalies to me without delay.

Furthermore... prepare an official diplomatic letter addressed directly to the Myrain Viscounty. Do not dispatch it yet. Hold it in reserve until I give the explicit command."

"It shall be done as you command, My Lady," Butler Vorian bowed his head deeply once more, taking three silent steps backward before turning and vanishing into the castle corridor.

***

Back to the Present

The forest floor had been transformed into an absolute, violent slaughterhouse.

The Myrain Viscounty’s strike force pushed forward with terrifying momentum, leaving a trail of shattered timber, severed monster limbs, and pools of black, corrupted blood in their wake.

Every 1st-Tier abomination that dared to show itself—from solitary Red-Scaled Deers to roaming packs of forest stalkers—was instantly cut down by the relentless tide of steel.

However, as the vanguard drew closer and closer to the central region, the atmosphere underwent a drastic, unnatural shift.

The ambient temperature plunged rapidly.

The air grew heavy, thick, and suffocatingly stagnant.

A dense, pitch-black mist—heavily etched with volatile, dark Abyssal mana—seeped out from between the roots of the ancient ironwood trees, swirling around the horses’ hooves like living tendrils.

The chaotic mana radiation was so intense that it began to slightly distort the physical senses of the knights, causing their vision to flicker and a high-pitched ringing to echo in their ears.

Riding near the front, Ser Damian felt his heart hammering violently against his ribs.

He gulped hard, his throat dry, as cold sweat poured profusely down his temples and soaked his inner tunic.

Even with his superhuman endurance as a Middle-stage Sword Runner, being exposed to this concentrated level of raw, unrefined mana radiation felt like breathing in crushed glass.

’So this is the pressure of a true 2nd-Tier Abomination...’ Damian thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his sword hilt. ’It’s on an entirely different level compared to the 1st-tiers.’

Every single mounted knight in the column fell completely silent.

Panic suppressed by strict military discipline, all eyes locked onto the towering figure riding at the absolute front of the formation.

They were waiting for their supreme commander’s word.

And the order came instantly.

"Halt!!" Ser Hughway’s voice boomed.

Ser Hughway raised his heavy, armored gauntlet.

With masterclass precision, his massive war stallion came to a sudden, absolute halt, its hooves digging deep into the black soil.

CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!

Behind him, every single warhorse in the column halted in perfect synchronization, their riders holding their breath in the heavy silence.

They had officially arrived.

Standing directly before them was the dark, mist-shrouded archway of ancient ironwood trees—the boundary entrance to the central area of the Jeju Forest.

Ser Hughway swung his heavy leg over the saddle, his armored boots hitting the damp forest floor with a dull, heavy thud.

Following their supreme commander’s lead without a second’s delay, every knight in the vanguard dismounted in smooth, synchronized unison, holding the reins of their warhorses tightly to keep the anxious beasts steady against the suffocating Abyssal mana.

They were completely prepared. The air hummed with violent, suppressed tension.

Ser Hughway lifted his head, his sharp eyes piercing through the thick wooden canopy to look toward the dark sky above.

Floating high above the central zone like an immortal sovereign, the massive, obsidian form of Dark Sister glided silently through the clouds, encircling the perimeter of the target area.

The sight of the 4th-Tier Dragon guarding the heavens provided a cold, unshakeable anchor for every man on the ground.

Exhaling a long, steady breath that formed a pale mist in the chilly air, Ser Hughway adjusted the grip on his heavy longsword.

Quiet, disciplined footsteps crunched over the rotted leaves as Ser Damian, General Gunther, Ser Hetos, and Ser Merlyn approached their commander.

The three veteran Sages and the young First Dragonknight formed a tight crescent around him, their faces set in grim determination as they waited for his tactical directive.

"The beast is resting within the ironwood thickets ahead," Ser Hughway spoke, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that carried the absolute weight of a Sword Master.

"The Abyssal mana radiating inside that pitch-black mist is too thick for our horses—cavalry charges will only get the steeds corrupted and blind our formations."

He turned his cold, calculating gaze toward his four strongest officers, laying out the final strike plan:

"We leave a detachment to hold the horses at the perimeter. Gunther, Hetos, Merlyn—you will deploy your divisions in an overlapping pincer formation around the clearing to seal off all escape routes.

Damian, you will advance alongside me into the heart of the mist. We pull the 2nd-tier Abomination into the open, break its guard, and end this hunt."

Ser Damian’s eyes burned with a fierce, resolute light as he drew his blade, the cold steel reflecting the pitch-black mist curling at their feet.

"Understood, Commander."

"Draw your weapons," Ser Hughway commanded, stepping directly across the boundary line into the dark central depths.

"The final hunt begins now!"