Chapter 166: The Hunter's Trap
Dawn had yet to choose its colors, spreading only a thin veil across the sky. The campfire breathed its last embers in shallow gasps, and the mingled scent of leather and iron rose from dew-damp gear.
At the center of it all stood Calix, flanked by the coalition's key figures. High nobles and Mountain Rabbits, Sier representing the Order alongside Master Sevi Belgrado. They had upturned a wooden crate to serve as a table, a map spread across its surface.
"I'll be brief."
Calix cleared his throat and extended a finger toward the map.
"Survivors from the central region are making their way down. Verhas's vanguard is in pursuit. Wolf cavalry at the front, with The Corrupted backing them up."
Marquis Ashapel's eyes narrowed. Speaking on behalf of the high nobles, he asked,
"Numbers?"
"Ten thousand at minimum. We'll need scouts to get an accurate count. But caution is advised—the wolves appeared to move at considerable speed."
At that, the Mage Yelayen added his voice.
"Verhas's hounds."
"You know them?"
"Hmm, they hail from the Land of Shadows. Notorious for their savagery. They're raised drinking tainted swamp water and feeding on the flesh of The Corrupted."
At that, Captain Royce unfolded his arms and stepped forward. He had faced wolf cavalry before, in a previous engagent.
"The only chance to save the survivors is now. Once battle breaks out, there'll be no room to look after refugees. We'll need to strike at their heads before that—or split them off early."
Hadiya quickly processed Calix's briefing and matched it against the surrounding terrain. She estimated the distance to the refugees based on what he had described.
Naturally, there were those who objected.
"The Beacon of Souls has gone dark. Even those who held on through faith are beginning to waver. Would it not be better to settle this in one decisive blow rather than divide our forces? What if we fought a defensive battle in that gorge instead……"
Sier muttered with hollow eyes. He seed unable to let go of sothing, casting a glance toward the Beacon. But no one lent weight to his words.
Ella raised her head. Her face was worn from a sleepless night of tending to the wounded, but her gaze was steady.
"We need to lift those who have fallen behind and restore so order to those who can still move. Once the refugees have hope that help is coming, they won't give up."
Volga jabbed a finger at one corner of the map and spoke.
"We should send more scouts first. You said the enemy's main force is close to a hundred thousand? Whether it's the pursuers or the wolves, the longer we fight them, the more exposed our backs beco."
A brief silence fell. The dying ember flickered precariously, then revived. Every face wore an expression of worry, yet no one stepped back.
Volga asked the final question.
"Decision?"
For a mont, countless gazes crossed. At the end of it, Calix spread the map flat and traced the northern ridge where the red marks converged.
"We strike the pursuit force first. Pull the refugees to safety and break the teeth chasing after them. The rescue unit will be composed primarily of cavalry and light-footed infantry. Hadiya—will two thousand be enough?"
"More than enough."
"Good. The main body will follow behind them. This battle, too, won't be dragged out."
He swept his gaze across those assembled. Their eyes held a tangle of belief, doubt, and unease. But there was enough courage in them to act.
"We will not be the ones hunted. Let's go leave our footprints first."
He rose from behind the crate. The morning sun was making its unhurried ascent. The council was over. All that remained was to move forward.
* * *
The sa hour.
Though morning had co, the pre-dawn mist refused to lift. Beneath a ridge where a sliver of moonlight still clung, a column of refugees wound its crooked way forward. Children in worn garnts dangled from the waists of adults, dozing as they walked, while the elderly felt their way forward step by step with their staffs.
Then, from sowhere distant, ca the cry of a beast. A long, low note. Adults instinctively covered their children's ears.
Beyond the ridge, black shapes tore through the mist and erged. Unlted snowflakes were crushed underfoot by thick, heavy paws. They had four legs, yet their silhouettes were nothing like ordinary animals.
Four tis the size of a common wolf, with ruddy markings that seed to crawl and writhe across their hide and iron plating. Each ti their chests swelled, they exhaled thick plus of vapor, and The Corrupted astride their backs idly stroked the cold weapons made of Rite-Stone with their fingers.
"……They've already caught up."
A young man standing at the very back of the refugee column muttered under his breath.
At that mont, a second cry rang out. Not one, but dozens—hundreds—of howls rging into a single mass that shook the entire valley. The signal for the hunt.
Beyond the mountain's flank, even greater shadows continued to press forward. The wolf cavalry was not all there was. The swarm of The Corrupted that followed blanketed the earth. They wore the shape of humans on the outside, but within dwelled demons wearing masks.
Then, abruptly, the lead wolf halted.
A Corrupted wearing a crude helt cast its gaze into the mist. Its jaundiced eyes glead strangely. The wolf stamped its forepaw in impatience, but the rider twirled the tip of its spear and spoke low.
"Do not pursue. Not yet. We drive them further down, then close in."
In the tongue of the Land of Shadows—that eerie, chilling voice—the subordinates all bowed their heads in unison. Their breath was ragged, yet their movents held a peculiar restraint.
Then a Corrupted gripping a chain yanked out a cluster of small, misshapen creatures. Their long, trailing tongues swept the ground, tracking traces of energy. As their snouts twitched toward the earth, they absorbed the lingering human footprints embedded in the soil.
"Caught the scent. They're absolutely terrified."
The Corrupted let out a sound like phlegm gurgling in a drain, and the creatures clawed at the ground with their talons. The wolves raised their voices in a chorus of howls.
In the distance, the faint lights of the refugee column flickered. One of the riders spotted the light and smiled with a cold, bloody edge.
They were beaters.
Rather than charging at once, the creatures circled around the mountainside and moved toward alternate chokepoints. Gradually tightening the net, herding the humans toward the path their masters desired.
They neither fed nor tore. All in service of driving larger prey. They repeated this cruel ga again and again, like herding sheep toward a slaughterhouse.
Before long, the victims themselves realized it. A fully-ford terror spread through the refugee column. The elder leading the group let out a sigh laced with despair.
"They're…… Toying with us."
The shadows stretching long across the mountain's flank grew ever darker. It felt less like a chase and more like the deliberate drawing of a grand hunting diagram.
* * *
Hadiya returned two days after the council had ended. The frost settled across her shoulders and cloak had yet to lt.
"They're coming down along the northeastern mountain ridge. Three days' distance from us. But the gap between the enemy pursuit force and the refugees is very narrow."
Calix glanced back toward the rear of the formation. The coalition forces stretched far along the road, while a cold sensation crept down his spine.
‘They're planning to use them as hostages.’
The enemy was thinking. For the coalition, this was not welco news. Just then, Adrian approached and spoke.
"We're on an expedition—resupply is difficult. anwhile, the enemy keeps climbing out of that pit of theirs and multiplying."
"Direct confrontation needs to be avoided."
He was right.
One could not keep winning by striking only at the head. Verhas's army was growing, and the coalition's numbers were fixed.
Hadiya scraped the mud from her boot and muttered.
"There's a cliff face up ahead."
As though she had read his thoughts, she pointed to the mountain terrain and continued.
"It's a gorge that splits in two directions. The entrance is narrow—looks like a good place to funnel them in."
Calix's gaze drove through that spot on the map. Atop the cliff, shattered rock was stacked layer upon layer. The picture snapped together in an instant.
‘If we can drop them just once, at the right mont, we can break the enemy's wave.’
"……Good. The remaining question is how to draw them in."
"You already know how."
At Volga's addition, a heaviness settled in. On the first strike, they would need to deal a blow large enough to seize the enemy's attention.
"Only then will they charge without looking around them."
Royce followed imdiately.
"We pick only the elite. They need to be mobile, so cavalry-heavy, with only infantry who know mountain paths. Those in heavy plate—like the Silver Shield Legion—stay with the main body."
"Is it possible to seal off the gorge's passage? We don't have much ti."
That answer ca from Basim.
"Leave it to the dwarves. Those blockheads have spent their whole lives doing nothing but hacking at rock. It's not like they need any special tools for it."
He thumped his chest and gave his assurance with a voice that carried the faint trace of a grin. Royce thought for a mont before agreeing.
"It's a gamble worth taking. We have ti to prepare."
With that, the conclusion was set. Calix, still mounted, looked up at the steep cliff face. The vile creatures would believe themselves to be the hunters—but the Mountain Rabbits had been setting their trap.
* * *
The gorge was deeper and narrower than expected. Snowlt from the mountain's peak had carved through rock for hundreds of years, and those traces stretched out like a slender nape of the neck. The cliffs on either side rose sharp as blades, and above them, sections of fractured stone were stacked in overlapping layers.
"Here. Find the grain first!"
When Basim called out, the dwarves and human soldiers scattered without a word. They hamred chisels and mallets against the weakest points, and rolled a few boulders experintally.
Just two days.
Within that ti, they needed to find enough rock to seal off the gorge. A task that would take even hundreds of human craftsn at minimum several weeks.
But these were dwarves. Basim pressed one side of his face against the ground and felt along the grain flowing through the rock. Once he determined where to cut in, two dwarves stepped forward carrying mallets. The one gripping the chisel channeled energy into it, while those wielding the hamrs struck in steady rhythm.
Thud! Thud!
The hairline crack in the cliff face spread quickly into a fracture. With each swing of the mallet, the rock shook and split, and at so point dozens of stone chunks broke free from the wall.
The human soldiers watched in admiration and worked to firmly secure the boulders the dwarves had produced. The result was not enough to bury the gorge entirely—but more than sufficient to block the passage.
Gregor watched it all, chattering away.
"Fine weather for fishing."
Marik, standing beside him, gave a small laugh.
"The ice should be starting to thaw about now. Ti for the fish to wake up too."
A remark with a barb in it—but unfortunately, there was no one left to volley it back. Calix was already riding down into the floor of the gorge.
"They're coming."
The first thing to appear was a mass of thousands of refugees. The front rows were in poor shape, but the Mountain Rabbits stayed hidden in the brush and did not stir. Next ca the young, followed by the elderly and children at the rear.
‘Not yet. Wait a little longer.’
Calix held out until the very end.
Then he raised his head—and t a pair of crimson eyes. In an instant, they multiplied, and the howling of wolves rang long and full through the entire forest.
Calix's fingertips ca to rest on the hilt of his sword.
It was ti to settle who was the hunter.
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