Rise of the Horde-Chapter 500 -

Lieutenant Kael approached the bisected remains of the creature. Its fur, a mottled grey and brown, was matted with blood, its throat ripped open, exposing a ragged cavity. Three deep gashes marred its flanks. The stench of blood and viscera hung heavy in the air.

"The Laughing Wolves… There could be more of them around," Kael stated, his voice low. He examined the wounds, noting the precise, almost surgical nature of the larger cuts.

"Well, there are plenty of them within the Tekarr Mountains," Lieutenant Gerber replied, his gaze sweeping the surrounding forest. "I thought the vanguards cleared enough of their numbers while they were creating the safe path."

"Who cares? At least it's not one of those King of the Mountains," Kael shrugged, turning away from the corpse. He wiped blood from his hands on his tunic.

A guttural growl, deep and resonant, cut through the night's silence. Every soldier froze. A large, shadowy form emerged from the trees. It was vaguely feline in shape, immense, its silhouette a dark wedge against the moonlit sky. Menacing yellow eyes glowed from its face.

"You and your big mouth!" Gerber shouted, his hand flashing to the hilt of his sword. Battle energy, a shimmering aura of bluish light, flickered around him as he drew the blade. It hummed with barely contained power.

The creature growled again, a sound that vibrated through the ground. Then, it vanished back into the darkness.

"It went away," Kael exhaled, relief evident in his posture. He sheathed his own sword.

"I highly doubt it," Gerber countered, his eyes still scanning the shadows. "Their kind would stick around for a long while, just waiting for the right moment to strike."

Captain Baldred, his face grim, strode towards the Laughing Wolf carcass. "Well… we have a Dargan stalking us right now… whether we like it or not. Since it doesn't have any plans of attacking us now, get the soldiers to butcher this Laughing Wolf. We can't let their meat go to waste." He gestured to the corpse with his sword, its tip resting on the bloodied ground.

The soldiers moved with practiced efficiency. Some sharpened their knives, others began to skin the wolf, their movements swift and brutal. The air filled with the sounds of hacking steel and the tearing of flesh.

Blood splattered onto their hastily erected makeshift butchering blocks. Chunks of meat were severed and tossed into waiting containers. The grim task proceeded with a ruthless efficiency born of necessity and experience. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, mingled with the earthy scent of the forest.

The task completed, the soldiers cleaned their tools and themselves as best they could. The night air, previously thick with the scent of blood and death, was now noticeably less intense, though the lingering odor remained.

"Keep watch," Baldred ordered, his eyes never leaving the forest's edge. "We'll move out at first light. Gerber, double the patrols. Kael, I want a report on the Dargan sightings. We are vulnerable now. If that cat comes back, it might find us unprepared."

Kael nodded, already assessing the defensive positions of the camp. He knew the threat of the Dargan, a large predator of the Tekarr Mountains known for its stealth and ferocity, was a serious one. The presence of the large cat-like creature and the lingering threat of more Laughing Wolves heightened the danger.

Gerber began organizing patrols, assigning soldiers to their posts. His commands were sharp, precise, and brook no argument. The soldiers, hardened by countless battles and campaigns, responded instantly and without hesitation. Their movements were a well-oiled machine, efficient and deadly. Every action was carefully calculated, every step deliberate.

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The night was filled with low whispers, the crackling of a fire, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. It was a night of vigilance and alert readiness, a constant reminder of the ever-present dangers lurking in the shadows of the Tekarr Mountains.

The soldiers, exhausted but watchful, continued their duty, knowing that even a moment's lapse in their alertness could mean the difference between life and death. The smell of roasted meat, the last remnants of their hastily prepared meal, mingled with the lingering stench of the dead Laughing Wolf, a bitter reminder of the night's events. The air was cool, sharp with the distinct tang of the mountain air.

The first light of dawn painted the sky a pale grey, stirring the exhausted workers from their fitful sleep. Several had managed a few hours' rest; others, haunted by the knowledge of the Dargan's proximity, had barely closed their eyes. Dark circles ringed the eyes of the survivors, their faces etched with fatigue. A meager breakfast of roasted meat was quickly consumed.

"Prepare to move out! And keep an eye out for that Dargan," Captain Baldred barked, his voice hoarse. The order was met with weary nods and the clinking of worn metal against leather as they strapped on their gear.

The group followed the designated path, a route deemed safe until the Dargan's presence invalidated such assumptions. The creature's shadow, barely discernible behind some scrub, was soon spotted.

"It's very patient," Kael observed, his gaze fixed on the lurking predator.

"It's hunting," Gerber replied, his tone flat. "And we're the prey." The implication hung heavy in the air: a Dargan encounter rarely ended well. The creature's hide was notoriously thick and resilient, rendering their sharpened weapons useless.

Even infused with battle energy, the weapons would likely fail to penetrate. Gerber glanced at Baldred. Perhaps the Captain, with his superior strength and skill, could inflict a wound, but even killing the beast would be a monumental task.

Their journey continued with the Dargan's shadow as a constant, unnerving presence. The steady rhythm of their footsteps was punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig – sounds amplified by the tension. Baldred, ever vigilant, scanned the surroundings, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword.

After several hours, the Dargan grew bolder, emerging from the cover. It was a colossal beast, its hide a patchwork of dark greys and browns, scarred and thick as ancient oak. Sharp claws extended from powerful paws; its teeth were bared in a silent snarl.

"It's making its move," Kael stated, his voice barely a whisper.

The Dargan charged. Its massive form tore through the undergrowth, its speed surprising for its size. Gerber reacted instantly, swinging his blade with all his might. The blow impacted the Dargan's flank with a dull thud, the sword bouncing harmlessly off the thick hide. The Dargan barely flinched.

Baldred, more experienced in such encounters, launched himself forward, his sword flashing with battle energy. He struck at a point where the hide appeared slightly thinner, aiming for a vulnerable joint. The impact echoed through the air, accompanied by a guttural roar as the Dargan reacted to the pain. A deep gash, oozing fresh blood, appeared on its leg, but the beast continued its advance.

Kael and the other Threian warriors responded, their weapons ringing out, striking at legs, eyes, and any exposed area. Each hit drew a roar of rage from the Dargan. Yet, despite the combined assault of all six warriors, the creature held its ground, its injuries seemingly insignificant against its brute strength.

The Dargan lashed out, its claws tearing through the air. One warrior went down, a deep gash severing his arm at the shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound as he screamed in agony. Another was struck, knocked to the ground with the impact causing him to fall unconscious.

Baldred, his face grim, focused all his attention on the beast. He dodged a strike that would have crushed his skull, using his sword to deflect another blow that would have ripped through his chest. He was relentless, landing blow after blow on the Dargan, forcing it to stagger back but failing to inflict any serious damage.

The Dargan's attention shifted. One by one, it systematically began targeting the Threian warriors and workers, ignoring Baldred and pursuing its quarry with unrelenting, deadly efficiency. Screams mixed with the sounds of ripping flesh and snapping bone. The once-organized group was now a scattered chaos of desperate men fighting for survival against an unstoppable foe.

One by one the warriors fell. Their weapons were ineffective against its thick skin. The remaining warriors fought on, their movements wild and desperate, until only Baldred and two others remained.

Baldred, despite the journey's weariness, moved with surprising speed and precision. He ducked under a massive claw swipe, then used his momentum to turn his body, bringing his broadsword down upon the creature's head with all the force he could muster. He hit its skull causing the Dargan to roar in anger, and its momentum causing it to stumble.

Six warriors moved to tackle the Dargan at the same moment from one direction, their bodies hitting it like a battering ram.

The Dargan was thrown away and crashed, the sound of its heavy body hitting the ground. The six warriors stood breathing heavily, their eyes fixed on the beast.

The beast stood up and quickly took flight but before disappearing from their view, it let out one angry growl.

"It fled," Kael muttered, his gaze fixed on the spot where the Dargan had disappeared. His expression was one of mild surprise, not fear.

"That was merely a reconnaissance," Gerber replied, his voice calm and level, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. "It will return."

Baldred's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air. "Report."

Kael and Gerber moved efficiently amongst the casualties, their movements practiced and devoid of emotion. The scene was a gruesome tableau of carnage. Torn limbs lay scattered around. Blood, dark and thick, pooled around the bodies of the fallen, staining the earth a morbid crimson.

"Five soldiers dead. Eight workers," Gerber reported, his voice flat. He pointed to four figures groaning in agony, their bodies mangled beyond repair. "Four critically wounded. Unsalvageable."

Baldred's response was immediate and devoid of sentimentality. "Spare them the pain."

Without hesitation, Kael and Gerber approached the injured. Kael swiftly stabbed one soldier by the chest, the man's death almost instantaneous. Gerber followed suit, using his blade with similar ruthless efficiency on another victim.

Their movements were precise, economical, focused solely on ending suffering. The final two met their end with the same cold precision. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the metallic tang of death.