A week had passed like a breeze—Verc and his newly assembled small army is ready to go out for an another expedition.

The days had melted together in a blur of intense preparation, weapon sharpening, and strategic coordination within the stone walls of the caslte.

The wolf-kin prisoners had been cooperative for the past week.

They had been placed under strict surveillance in prison, but contrary to the initial worry of Verc and the village, the wolf-kins had not caused a single disturbance. There were no desperate riots, no aggressive snarling matches at the cell bars, and no secret plans to break out in the middle of the night.

They behaved and followed every instruction given to them.

When the guard shifts changed or when the food rations were distributed by the gnolls, the hunters simply moved to their designated spots without a single grunt of resistance. They carried out their basic labor duties and maintained an orderly presence within their temporary confines, surprising the guards who had stayed behind to manage them.

It seems like Lunar was doing a good job convincing his tribe to stay put just as he said to Verc.

The giant chief had spent the first few days of their confinement talking directly with his village elders and senior hunters, using his absolute authority to explain the futility of fighting against Verc and his force, especially in his own territory. He made them understand that submission meant survival, and that their conqueror possessed a level of power that could either protect them--or destroy them completely.

Lunar’s people understood his words and intentions... that’s why they all decided to follow his suggestion to just accept their fate.

So although the wolf-kin tribe living in the village and coexisting with the others are still far away in the future—the fact that they had been cooperative and didn’t became violent will help in that.

True assimilation into the kingdom’s social structure would take months of careful management, but this peaceful beginning ensured that the foundation of trust wouldn’t be completely shattered before the integration process could even start.

... ... ...

... ... ...

... ... ...

*****

"We’re ready to depart, My Lord."

Tatum and Jed informed Verc.

The two young men stood tall, their postures perfectly straight as they stepped up to report the status of the deployment.

The three of them stood atop their village gates, watching the small army below them.

"..."

From their elevated position on the stone battlements, the entire courtyard was visible, filled with the neat lines of armored warriors checking their gear for the final time.

Tatum and Jed just finished checking all the units that will be deployed in this expedition.

They had walked through every single row of soldiers, verifying the status of eveyrone.

Even though they won overwhelmingly against the wolf-kin tribe—neither Verc nor his people let their guards down and started underestimating the other tribes.

The easy victory had been a great morale booster for the community, but the veteran elements within the command structure knew that overconfidence on the battlefield was the quickest way to end up dead.

And also, even though the wolf-kins are known to be the strongest tribe in the west—well, that was just in the west of where their village was.

The territorial boundaries of the forest were vast, and the localized reputation of a single pack of hunters didn’t mean they were the absolute peak of power across the entire region.

Deeper inside the [Cursed Forest]—far stronger races and tribes resides.

The interior sectors contained a lot of mystery.

Anyway...

The real known master of the west side of the [Cursed Forest] is... the Centaur Tribe.

They were an entirely different caliber of threat compared to the localized monster groups they had encountered so far, possessing a structural society that mirrored the organizational depth of human nations.

They’ve been one of the longest races that had been living in the forest.

Their ancestral roots were buried deep within the oldest soil of the western plains, their lineage surviving multiple human crusades and continuous regional wars without ever losing their sovereign hold on their ancestral territory.

And that says a lot about their strength because they wouldn’t survive that long in this cursed place if they were weak.

The harsh environment of the woods systematically filtered out the fragile and the weak, meaning that any faction capable of maintaining an unchanging domain for generations was guaranteed to possess an overwhelming amount of combat power.

The Centaurs are unanimously the ruler of the west-part of the forest.

Their name alone was enough to make smart monsters think twice before crossing the western riverbanks, their territorial borders marked by ancient stone pillars that no outsider dared to deface.

Although they don’t take other races under their rule—the other tribes who lives on the same side of the forest as them recognize the centaurs as the king of the west, and they started giving tributes to the centaurs.

They maintained an isolated, aristocratic system that kept them separated from the common monster communities, preferring to observe the surrounding territories from a distance rather than micro-managing the daily lives of the smaller factions. Every month, long lines of submissive tribes would march toward the centaur plains, carrying carts of rare herbs, polished stones, and preserved meats to secure their ongoing favor.

The centaurs just took the tributes, and in exchange; they never attacked the other tribes.

They accepted the offerings with an absolute, quiet indifference, filing the resources away into their massive storehouses without offering any praise or formal alliances to the lesser races.

If ever, they even protected the whole west part of the forest from invaders in exchange.

If a massive human expedition force or rogue monster clans attempted to march through the western sector, the elite cavalry of the centaur tribe would immediately deploy from their plains, trampling the intruders into the dirt before the conflict could spill into the territories of their tributary subordinates.

In fact—Lunar, the chief of the wolf-kins, told Verc that they were planning to go under the centaur tribe’s rule as well.

This sparked Verc’s interest; seeing someone as prideful as Lunar and the wolf-kin race willingly wanting to bow to another.

"..."

A small smiled appeared on his face, as he remembered that.

Then looking at the northern-west part of the forest—

"March!"

Verc commanded that with a loud, clear voice. He was pointing at his sword at that direction as well.

The single word vibrated through the quiet air of the morning, instantly triggering a massive, coordinated response from the waiting line of soldiers below the battlements.

For their expedition this time—

Tatum and the other generals, along with the army; they will become the first force.

The leaders took their positions at the front of the line, their faces serious as they assumed the full responsibility of commanding the main body of the deployment without the direct presence of their lord.

Their targets are all the tribes around the centaurs.

They were tasked with systematically clearing out the surrounding tributary villages, neutralizing their fighting capabilities, and securing the outer perimeter of the western sector.

It’s to prevent any possibility of sudden and unexpected reinforcements.

By cutting off the outer networks and isolating the centaur territory from its local resource streams, they could ensure that the primary rulers wouldn’t be able to call upon their lesser subordinates to create an overwhelming numerical advantage during the main engagement.

And Verc, who was the whole second force alone... Well...

"..."

He watched the dust cloud rise behind his marching army as they disappeared down the northern trail, his horse standing quietly near the edge of the clearing.

’Hmm, I wonder how strong they are.’

He thought to himself.

His internal mana circulated smoothly through his chest, a low hum of excitement warming his limbs as he thought about facing an entire clan of ancient rulers without any assistance.

That’s right; he decided to attack the Centaur Tribe all on his own!

The sheer scale of the challenge didn’t cause a single ounce of hesitation in his heart, his instincts thoroughly looking forward to testing the limits of his growing strength against the undisputed kings of the western forest.

Moving on, with that plan, Verc and his army set out—leaving the village to the others once more.

Verc rode Bong and the two of them made their way in front of the army.

The heavy defense of the village was left entirely in the capable hands of Groo, Pwyll, Bernia, Rick, and the four veteran orc family heads, ensuring that the fortress would remain completely impregnable while the main forces were operating in the deep woods.

This time around, Verc and the army knows that they have little preparation unlike when they attacked the wolf-kins.

They hadn’t spent weeks analyzing detailed terrain layouts or studying the specific patrol rotations of their targets, forced to rely on real-time tactical adjustments as they moved through the uncharted territory.

Verc and his army doesn’t know the population of their enemies, they don’t know what’s the situation in their settlement.

They lacked any definitive intelligence regarding the exact number of able-bodied fighters residing within the northern-west villages, entering the sector with zero knowledge of their defensive structures or community layouts.

They don’t know how roughly strong they are.

They didn’t know if the local tribes possessed unique magical attributes, rare monster taming capabilities, or specialized weapon types that could disrupt a standard iron-clad vanguard line.

They don’t know the geographic around their bases.

Just those facts are already proofs that this time will be much harder than the last expedition.

The lack of environmental awareness and statistical data meant that a single wrong turn or an unspotted ambush point could result in severe complications for the advancing columns.

But still, everyone was ready—

"..."

The physical training and high-discipline routines they had practiced over and over again had forged the warriors into a highly adaptable unit that could handle sudden tactical changes without succumbing to panic.

Also, Verc sent Scally and Skul—along with the new kobolds—three days ahead to their destination.

They’re now the scout team officially.

Verc had formalised their role within his growing military infrastructure, recognizing that their exceptional mobility and environmental awareness made them the perfect eyes and ears for his kingdom.

Their job is to find out as much as they can on their enemies, and report them to Verc and the army.

They were tasked with mapping out the immediate approaches to the northern villages, identifying the location of centaur watchtowers, and tracking the movement of local resource transports.

They all plan to meet out at the edge of the territory of the western tribes.

A specific landmark near the western river banks had been selected as their primary rendezvous point, where the gathered data would be used to finalize the attack trajectories for both forces.

And just like that—the second expedition went into motion.