CH434 The Roadblock and Toll II

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Kavakan grew angrier the longer he listened to the tollmen. It took everything he had not to grab his axe and smash their skulls in.

Sensing the hulking weretiger's murderous intent, the burly tollman quickly reached for his own axe and raised it defensively.

"What are you people trying to pull?!" he shouted.

At once, the rest of the men at the roadblock surged forward, weapons drawn, forming a loose but aggressive line.

This gave Alex the opportunity he wanted.

He quickly counted their numbers.

Fifty men.

All armed. All armoured—though the quality varied wildly. Their gear was worn, mismatched, and dirty, but that was hardly surprising. In the Wildlands, clean water was a luxury, and hygiene was rarely worth dying over.

More importantly, Alex assessed their ranks.

Only the two men in front—the scrawny leader and the burly enforcer—were Silver-ranked. The rest were Bronze-ranked fighters.

On one hand, it was a stark illustration of the Wildlands' brutality. A mere toll group here boasted as many Bronze ranks as a Baron had assigned to guard a major fortress.

On the other hand, it made perfect sense.

Only ranked individuals survived in this hellhole. And from another perspective, anyone who did survive here would inevitably become ranked—or die and be forgotten beneath the rocks and sand.

Looking into their eyes, Alex saw it clearly.

These weren't green thugs or desperate peasants. Every one of them was a hardened fighter with blood on their hands.

They would pose a far greater challenge than Baron Helton's men ever had.

Without breaking his calm, Alex reached into his satchel and tossed out five full Berserk Stones.

They clattered against the ground between the two groups.

"That should cover the toll for all of us," Alex said evenly.

Technically, the value was lower than what the toll would be in shards.

But full Berserk Stones were far more valuable than shards—especially in the Wildlands. Their exchange rate wasn't fixed; it was dictated entirely by the seller.

And as far as Alex was concerned, five full stones were more than sufficient.

He wasn't about to count out thousands of shards in the open—nor expose how much wealth they truly carried.

Efficiency dictated using full stones.

Unfortunately, efficiency was rarely appreciated in the Hollowcrest Wildlands.

And it was certainly not appreciated by greedy men.

"A full stone!" The burly man's eyes lit up.

Behind him, several men inhaled sharply.

They couldn't remember the last time they had seen a full Berserk Stone. Their leaders might handle them from time to time, but low-ranking thugs like them barely ever laid eyes on one.

"We have paid the toll." Alex's voice was calm but firm. "Now give us the toll cards."

The burly man's gaze lingered on the stones, greed burning brighter by the second.

"No." He shook his head slowly. "Five isn't enough."

He smirked.

"I want ten… no—fifty full Berserk Stones before I let you through."

Alex's brows furrowed.

"Isn't it a hundred shards per person?" he asked coolly. "How can five full Berserk Stones not be enough?"

"Because the price has gone up," the burly man replied without hesitation.

"And when did that happen?" Alex asked, shifting his gaze to the scrawny man beside him.

"Just now," the burly man said.

He lifted his axe and gave it a threatening flourish.

Then—

"Boss!" the man on the watchtower suddenly shouted. "Women! They've got women!"

At once, every pair of eyes shifted past Alex.

Their gazes locked onto the four women in the group.

Zora, Udara, and Silver were wrapped in light desert robes, shielding themselves from the scorching sun. Eleanor—though less affected by the heat—wore similar clothing and kept her face veiled to hide her elven heritage and avoid unnecessary trouble.

Still, no amount of concealment could fully mask their extraordinariness.

Their eyes remained visible above the veils, sharp and composed. Udara and Silver had their legs and feet exposed for ease of movement.

That was enough.

Lust flared openly in the burly man's eyes.

Sensing the shift, Alex reached into his satchel again, intending to simply end the matter with more payment.

But the burly man raised a hand, stopping him.

"Hold on." He grinned. "We'll talk about the toll later."

He turned his gaze fully toward the women.

"You ladies," he said crudely, "take off those robes and let me get a proper look at you."

His smile widened.

"Maybe if you keep us company for a while, we won't take any toll at all."

The moment the words left the man's mouth, the expedition party trembled.

Not in anger, but in trepidation.

Their gazes snapped instantly to Alex.

Alex lifted his eyes to the night sky, gazing at the pale moon hanging above the desert. Then, slowly, he sighed.

To the toll men, it sounded like the sigh of a man who had come to resignation.

Several of them chuckled, already imagining the female company they would soon get to enjoy after so long in this wasteland.

But to the expedition party, that sigh sounded something entirely different.

It was not the sigh of a weak man.

No—

It was the sigh of a predator realising it could slumber no more.

'When a tiger slumbers for too long, people assume it is a sick cat.'

Alex lowered his gaze, turning to his party.

His eyes were cold—frigid. The usual ruby-red had darkened into a deep, ominous crimson. Even Udara, who had fought by his side countless times, had never seen his eyes like this.

Alex was angry.

Not merely irritated, but so thoroughly enraged.

The expedition party assumed his rage was directed at the toll men.

But in truth, it was aimed at himself.

Kron Belloc's warning echoed in his mind.

"It isn't just about having power. You have to show it. Otherwise, flies will swarm you."

Alex glanced toward the women—briefly, apologetically.

'I didn't take his warning seriously enough.' He berated himself.

Then his gaze snapped back to the toll men.

'And now these filth dare cast their eyes on you?'

'No longer!'

A flash of light erupted.

[Featherflight]!

Lost in his fury, Alex cast the speed-enhancing spell near-instantly, pouring mana into the Draconic Baton at the same time.

The weapon unsheathed, elongated to a full metre—

—and struck.

Thump!

The burly man stared in horror as both his arms fell to the ground, severed cleanly along with the axe that had given him his confidence.

A heartbeat passed.

Then—

"AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

He collapsed, screaming in agony.

The toll men froze, stunned into silence.

That silence shattered when Alex's voice rang out—cold, absolute, and terrifying.

"Kill them all."

He kicked the burly man aside as if he were nothing more than refuse.

The order had barely left his lips when the expedition party moved.

Without hesitation nor wasted breath— as though they had been waiting for permission all along…

They surged forward.

***

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