Chapter 125: An Ambush [2]

The deluge from the heavens did not merely fall; it battered the rugged slate of the Opark Mountain range with unbridled fury, driving sheets of icy water across the narrow trail.

Overhead, the sky tore open in a jagged, blinding web of electric-blue lightning, instantly followed by deafening concussions of thunder that rattled the very bedrock of the cliffs.

Amidst this chaotic symphony of wind and water, Craig sat motionless upon his war stallion, his eyes locked on the brutal vanguard unfolding before him.

He watched as Ser Hughway spurred his mount forward, charging headlong into the oncoming vanguard of matte-black cavalry.

Yet, even as the veteran knight closed the distance with terrifying momentum, Craig’s heart felt heavy, weighed down by a dense, suffocating fog of confusion and calculation. A storm of complex, dangerous questions swirled relentlessly within his mind.

Who were they?

How in the world could they have possibly known he would take this exact mountain route, bypassing all intelligence networks and erasing his tracks?

Who had orchestrated this timely, perfectly targeted ambush?

Was it Hydra once again?

At the mere mental mention of Hydra—the syndicate directly responsible for the previous ruthless assassination attempts against his life during his early days as a young master—Craig’s pupils instantly constricted into pinpricks of lethal ice.

The fact that the the Darkstar Ducal Family despite his recent requests to have information about the Hydra.

It was instantly declined, this meant the Darkstar Ducal Family knew who they were yet refused to reveal them.

Does that mean they’re that powerful?

Or was he not yet influential enough to receive clearance for such high-level information?

Craig was drowned in the sea of deep thoughts but still conscious of his surroundings.

A profound, smoldering fury surged upward from his chest, heating his blood despite the freezing mountain rain.

At that exact second, another violent flash of lightning fractured the sky, bathing the battlefield in a ghostly, ghastly white glow while the thunder roared an angry chorus to his internal wrath.

From his stationary vantage point a short distance back, Craig watched the massacre begin.

The black-armored cavalry unit had fundamentally, disastrously miscalculated the caliber of the force they were trying to intercept.

They had anticipated an isolated noble traveling with standard escorts, easy prey for an elite hit squad.

Instead, they had walked straight into a slaughterhouse.

Despite wearing heavy, high-tier knightly armors forged from reinforced steel, and wielding leveled lances designed to shatter infantry lines, the majority of the attackers were little more than mundane, well-trained foot soldiers and mid-tier enforcers.

Against a seasoned, hardened Initial-stage Sword Master like Ser Hughway, they were nothing more than insects beneath the boots of a giant.

The first point of impact was catastrophic. Ser Hughway did not slow down; he accelerated into the center of their wedge.

With a sweeping, furious arc of his broadsword, a thick wave of blinding silver battle aura exploded from the blade, parting the heavy rain in a wide, shimmering circle.

CRACK! SPLINTER! SCREECH!

The sounds of tearing metal and splintered wood drowned out the wind for a fraction of a second.

The lead cavalryman’s heavy iron lance was instantly sheared clean in half by Hughway’s aura wave, the razor-sharp edge continuing forward to carve directly through the rider’s steel breastplate and the massive warhorse beneath him.

Blood sprayed into the torrential downpour, instantly washing away into the rushing rivers of mud along the mountain pass.

Chaos erupted instantly among the ranks of the ambushers.

They tried to wheel their heavy chargers around, attempting to flank or pin the lone knight, but Hughway moved with the terrifying, untouchable grace of an apex predator.

He descended upon them like an ancient war god whose primordial rage had finally been unleashed upon the mortal world.

Every single swing of his broadsword caused the surrounding atmosphere to shudder violently, generating visible shockwaves that blew back the sheets of rain for yards in every direction.

The air trembled.

SLASH! THUD!

A horse and rider were cleaved clean through the middle, the heavy carcass crashing heavily into the slick mud.

Another soldier raised his shield to block, only for Hughway’s mana-infused edge to shatter the iron barrier into a thousand jagged fragments, carving through bone and muscle with absolute, merciless efficiency.

He was sent flying across the field.

Blood spilling over.

Screams of pure, unadulterated terror echoed across the mountain pass, mixing with the howling gales and the relentless drumming of the storm.

Within seconds, the narrow trail was transformed into a horrific butcher’s yard.

They had just experienced the full wrath of a Sword Master Guardian Knight.

Dismembered limbs, shattered armor, and twitching equine corpses littered the ground, turning the mountain path into a slick, crimson-stained death trap.

Ser Hughway stood in the center of the carnage, his grey armor splattered with dark blood, his breathing controlled and steady as he effortlessly deflected a desperate thrust from a surviving attacker before running him through the heart.

A few dozen yards back, shielding the rear and flanks, sat Ser Damian.

Unlike Hughway, who had descended into the fray as the hammer of vengeance, Damian remained completely stationary, his mount planted firmly beside Craig and the hooded form of Annie Blacksun.

His hand rested lightly yet fiercely upon the hilt of his shealthed weapon, his sharp dark eyes scanning every dark shadow of the pine forest and every inch of the treacherous ridge line above.

Damian’s mana hummed tightly around his body, a silent, unyielding wall of defense.

While sensitive about his surroundings.

He was fully prepared to cut down any stray mercenary, flanking assassin, or long-range projectile thrower foolish enough to test the perimeter while the Lord Commander cleared the path ahead.

Craig kept his emerald-green eyes fixed on the remaining few panic-stricken survivors breaking formation and attempting to flee back down the trail.

The trap was springing shut, but the most important puzzle piece—the identity of the master hiding in the shadows—was still waiting to be pulled from the wreckage.