CH447 Retaliation III

***

Unlike at the Barnsil Fortress—where he relied on a delayed detonation method to amplify the power of three fireballs—this time, Alex employed a different approach.

Thanks to his improved familiarity with traditional spellcasting, he was able to properly stack the spells, achieving a similar destructive result but in a far more controlled manner.

That said, the results of the attack revealed something important.

The delay method was not completely inferior.

While traditional spell stacking concentrated energy and force into a single, devastating point, it came at the cost of a reduced attack radius. In contrast, the delayed method dispersed mana more broadly, sacrificing peak power in exchange for a wider area of effect.

Still, these observations confirmed that the stacking method was technically more lethal than the delayed method.

'The stacking method is ideal when I need a guaranteed kill method on a powerful target,' Alex mused. 'The delayed method is better suited for targetting large numbers of weaker enemies.'

He shook his head, forcibly breaking himself out of his bad habit of sinking into thought during combat.

Fortunately, there was no clearer signal for his party to attack than the massive fireball that had engulfed Brieger's entire estate—if these cluster of buildings could even be called that.

The moment the spell detonated, the expedition party surged forward like hyenas that had caught the scent of blood.

Alex's attack sent fire racing through the chaotic sprawl of structures, igniting a cacophony of burning buildings and forcing the Desert Razor's men out of their hiding places.

They were immediately hunted down by a highly motivated expedition party.

It could barely be called a fight.

Those gang members who managed to escape the initial blast and spreading inferno were swiftly descended upon by the expedition members—warriors who were individually stronger than most of them, yet showed absolutely no shame in ganging up on their prey.

In death, the gang members wanted to protest.

'You are knights, and we are a gang! Why are you the ones ganging up on people? What happened to honour and chivalry?!' they cried in their final moments.

Alas, their protests were carried with them into the afterlife.

After Alex's spell, there was little left for the spellcasters to do. Mordor, finding himself deprived of targets, had no choice but to draw his sword if he wanted a share of the action.

Alex couldn't help but spare a glance toward the Orc.

He worried—quietly—that under the influence of himself and the expedition party, Mordor might eventually degrade back into the overtly militant nature common to most Orcs, a trait his Brown-skinned Agrut Orc lineage had long since evolved away from.

Still, there was no denying the truth.

Mordor's swordsmanship was improving with every kill.

Even so, the Orc fought with extreme caution. He carefully selected his opponents, never engaging anyone beyond what he could reliably handle. And even then, he stacked several quick-cast Grade-0 hexes on them before closing in.

Alex didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Depending on who one asked, Mordor's approach to combat could be described as either cowardly… or ingenious.

Alex himself resisted the urge to join the battle. Instead, he chose to remain close to Zora, Eleanor, and Sugud—just in case.

In any event, his expedition party was more than capable of handling the situation.

Within minutes, Brieger's entire gang had been hunted down.

Only the Desert Razor himself remained unaccounted for.

Just as Mogal crushed the skull of another unfortunate thug with a single punch, a thunderous noise erupted from the direction where Brieger's quarters had once been—the epicentre of Alex's spell's explosion.

'He survived that?' Alex raised an eyebrow.

He was just about to signal for the party to fan out and conceal themselves when he realised the order was unnecessary.

His people had already moved.

Each member slipped behind rubble, broken walls, or collapsed structures, instinctively preparing for an ambush. The motion was smooth, practised and almost second nature.

Alex's lips twitched.

They had used ambush tactics so often that it had become their default response.

'Am I the reason they've lost their sense of honour?' Alex couldn't help but wonder.

Since arriving on Verdantis, he had consistently favoured ungentlemanly, unconventional warfare. These methods left little—if any—room for so-called honourable combat.

And after a couple of weeks of constant exposure, his party had not only accepted such tactics… they had embraced them.

Boom!

As expected, the source of the noise was Brieger the Desert Razor.

The man had survived Alex's spell—but only barely. He had been buried beneath the rubble and blasted free by brute force alone.

Brieger staggered to his feet and scanned his surroundings.

The courtyard was littered with corpses.

The corpses of his subordinates.

Even if he somehow resolved the immediate situation before him, his power base had been utterly shattered.

Holding onto his position as one of Camp Red Rock's ruling powers would now be exceedingly difficult.

Brieger turned toward the gate and saw Alex standing there boldly, a faintly arrogant and disdainful expression resting on his face.

The sight ignited something feral within him.

Hatred and rage surged so violently through Brieger that he didn't even bother exchanging words with the youth.

"Argh!!!"

He roared.

His body suddenly swelled.

Muscle bulged grotesquely as his frame expanded to nearly three metres tall. His skin turned crimson, steam rolling off his body in thick waves.

It was as though his hatred itself had become fuel, boiling the air around him.

With his sword—now looking more like a knife compared to his enlarged frame—Brieger dashed forward, swinging with the intent to cleave Alex in two.

But halfway across the courtyard, the air abruptly turned biting cold.

Brieger's instincts screamed.

Without hesitation, he hurled himself sideways.

A frost blast tore through the space where he had been an instant earlier, coating shattered stone in thick ice.

Brieger initially assumed the attack had come from Zora.

He was wrong.

Fen stood there, frost still clinging to his jaws.

And that was only the beginning.

Before Brieger could even regain his footing, a massive fist wrapped in savage, violent aura filled his vision.

Boom!

Though he barely managed to raise his arms in defence, Mogal's punch sent him skidding backward several steps, stone cracking beneath his heels.

He intended to retaliate— But a sword flashed before his eyes.

The blade moved too fast.

There was no time to dodge.

A manic spark of survival flared in Brieger's gaze.

In desperation, he sacrificed his weaker left hand—grabbing the blade and forcibly twisting it off course.

The sword tore through flesh and bone.

His left arm was severed in a spray of blood.

Brieger roared, but he used the opening to counterattack, swinging one trunk-like leg in a brutal snap kick toward Havel's torso.

Havel did not panic.

His form simply faded.

One moment he stood before Brieger—

The next, he was several paces away, as though his body had been nothing more than an illusion.

Brieger lunged forward to pursue—

But then, his shadow moved.

Udara emerged from it like a phantom.

Unlike the others, she did not strike to kill. Instead, her blades flashed twice.

Both of Brieger's legs were slit cleanly.

His mobility vanished in an instant.

Before he could even scream, Udara melted back into his shadow, leaving the once-feared Desert Razor crippled and bleeding.

The pain forced Brieger to stagger and grimace.

'I have to get out of here.'

If he hadn't realised he had fallen into an ambush before, he certainly did now. Escape became his only thought—but his legs refused to respond.

That single moment of motionlessness proved fatal.

Four Fury Knights burst from their hiding places simultaneously, their movements sharp and perfectly coordinated. Blades flashed as they struck together, carving deep, lethal wounds into the once-feared powerhouse of Camp Red Rock.

Even if Brieger somehow broke free of the encirclement, survival was no longer possible.

He understood this immediately.

And so his eyes turned cold—frosted over with resolve.

'Then I'll take at least one of you with me.'

Abandoning all defence, Brieger gathered everything he had left and focused solely on retaliation. He fixed his gaze on one of the Fury Knights, ready to trade his life for theirs.

Skree—!!!

A piercing bird cry rang out.

Swoosh!

Senu dive-bombed from above at terrifying speed. Her silvery wing-tips gleamed like sharpened blades as she swept past Brieger.

His remaining arm was severed cleanly.

Before he could even scream, Senu had already retreated skyward—leaving him completely defenceless.

Puchi!

Four swords plunged into Brieger's body at once.

His frame jolted violently.

"This is for our Sergeant!" the Fury Knights roared.

Slowly, deliberately, they drove their blades deeper—right to the hilts—ensuring maximum pain before the end.

Brieger coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth. With what little strength he had left, he forced his head up and looked toward the gate.

Alex still stood there.

Calm... cold... and disdainful.

'That expression!'

It enraged him even now—so much so that it was the very reason he had acted so rashly in the first place.

Brieger wanted to speak.

To scream...

To curse...

But his body had already betrayed him.

The Fury Knights tore their swords free in one brutal motion, ripping more flesh than necessary.

Brieger collapsed to his knees.

For a fleeting instant, regret flickered in his eyes.

He wished—desperately—that he had never crossed Alex.

Then his body fell forward, crashing lifelessly into the blood-soaked ground.

Blood pooled beneath him.

And with that—

One of the four ruling powers of Camp Red Rock was slain.

***

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