Earth's SSS Pornstar to SSS Combat God in Another World-Chapter 42: Ambush on a Busy Route

Joji, Alaric, and Walter rode on Rizz’s broad back like boys who had found a moving hill.

They ate with ease, passing chunks of jerky and hard bread between them, and Joji even fed Rizz now and then, letting the donkey chew while he walked.

"You’re pretty strong, lil Rizz," Joji said, watching the animal’s steady gait.

"Yeah," Rizz said, smug. "Maybe the universe finally cashed out for my past life’s weak build. Because tell me why I do not feel tired at all."

Joji took that as a win. A mount that tired easy was not a mount. It was a promise that would break when you needed it most.

Alaric had a different opinion. His eyes kept sliding away, as if he could already hear the whispers that would come when people saw a knight riding a donkey.

Joji saw the worry and patted Alaric’s shoulder.

"I don’t care what people say about Rizz," Joji said. "It is my choice. That is final."

Alaric’s jaw tightened. Helpless, he let it go.

They found a worn wooden sign at the roadside, cracked and leaning like it had survived more winters than it deserved.

The words on it made all of them breathe easier.

Welcome to Fellbarrow Country.

It was already dusk again. They had traveled night and day, taking turns sleeping on Rizz’s back, waking with stiff joints and swamp grit still hiding in their clothes.

"What’s the plan?" Alaric asked.

Joji did not answer at once. He looked at Walter.

Walter’s disguise held. Along the way they had adjusted it again and again, changing cloth, changing posture, changing the small habits that made a man recognizable.

He had been careful in a way that spoke of fear and money both.

Walter looked at the road ahead, then at his companions.

"We go straight to our estate," he said. "A few more hours."

Joji nodded. He did not say more. They checked the swords they had taken from Automaton Fourteen.

Soon the moon hung high.

They avoided lonely forest paths and kept to roads with traffic, wagons and travelers and the steady noise of people.

Blending was armor too. Rizz even asked Joji if he could get him a cart.

"A cart," Rizz said, eyes bright. "I can pull it. Hard labor. Sounds fire."

Joji almost laughed. Almost.

They found one to borrow and paid for it without fuss. Rizz took the shafts like he had been born to them, and that made the whole party look like nothing special.

Bottom tier adventurers. Three warriors. A goblin. Two kobolds who did not bother hiding their faces.

One overly large donkey hauling a cart like he was auditioning for a work song.

Inconspicuous.

Then a large wagon piled high with straw rolled up behind them, wheels rattling, driver hunched and impatient.

It tried to overtake. Rizz slowed and let it pass, polite as a farm beast.

The wagon made it two lengths ahead and then toppled right in the middle of the road.

Straw burst out. The driver pitched down hard and lay there a moment, groaning as he struggled to sit up.

Joji and Alaric did not move.

"Rizz. Run to the side. Follow the plan."

Rizz made a startled sound and bolted off the road, hooves thudding into the dark grass.

He kicked a chunk of straw aside as he went, eyes wide with worry but moving fast.

The old man on the road pushed himself up slowly. Too slowly.

He lifted his hands as if his wrists were weak, as if his bones were old, as if he could not see very well.

"Great adventurers," the man called, voice shaking. "Can you help me push my cart up?"

The wind moved along the dirt road. Somewhere in the dark, a horse snorted.

Silence stretched.

Joji’s hand was already in motion. He drew a bone javelin, fingers adjusting once, twice, the movement small and practiced.

Then he struck. The throw was swift enough to look lazy. The bone point hit the old man between the eyes and ended the question.

The old body folded.

Joji did not stare at it. He jumped onto the overturned wagon and snatched the lamp from its side, then hurled it into the spilled straw.

Flame took fast. Straw went up hungry. Orange light leapt and turned the road into a sudden stage.

Screams followed, not from the dead man, from the hidden men who had been crouched under the straw and behind the cart, waiting for someone to step close and bend down.

"Shield up," Joji roared.

Arrows rained out of the trees. Walter raised his kite shield. Lilina shrank behind the cart.

Kobto and Kobluk jumped out the cart, teeth bared. The air filled with whistling and thuds as shafts bit into wood and dirt.

Joji grabbed the cart and pulled it, muscles flexing, boots digging into the road.

He hauled it toward the side where Rizz had run, using the wagon as cover while arrows hissed past.

This was the trick they had agreed on earlier. Rizz would scout.

If there was no enemy, he ran straight. If there was danger, he ran back, leaving clear tracks.

Joji’s eyes narrowed and the world sharpened for him. With the Cave Ogre Eyes, he saw hoof marks in the grass, the churn of dirt where Rizz had cut hard, the line that said he had met something and turned.

So the ambush was real. Not only arrows. Wolves came next, gray shapes slipping through the dark.

Not wild wolves. These moved with purpose. They came in a line, and behind them the men in horses followed, some with bows, some with blades, all of them ignoring the merchants fleeing the road.

The hired killers did not care about collateral. Their target was Walter.

Even disguised, Walter’s scent still lived in what they carried.

Simon, the traitor, had done his work well. He had collected Walter’s worn cloth and stockpiled it for months, feeding it to the pack and to the hunters who commanded them.

Melchor had hired him a year ago as a rat in Walter’s circle, waiting for the right moment.

Alaric moved like a storm held in a fist. He kept his aura down, locked tight in his bones, refusing to let the gale colors flare and give away what he was.

He dashed into the wolves and cut them apart, left and right, each swing clean, each step sure, anger and focus welded together.

"Who are you?" Alaric roared into the trees. "Show yourselves."

The assassins hesitated. Some of them went still, suddenly unsure.

Alaric’s display was too outstanding. Too orthodox.

It reeked of training under a real force, not a back road sellsword swinging for coin.

But it was too late to stop. Too late to pretend it had been an accident.

"Fire. Don’t stop. We just need to kill him clean," someone roared from the dark.

Another volley of arrows fell.

Alaric spun his blade and guarded the large bag they carried, the one stuffed with evidence from Fourteen’s secret work.

He glanced at Joji, just once, a brief hard look that begged permission to reveal who they were.

Joji met the look and shook his head. Not here. Not in Fellbarrow, where the count stood opposite Everhart.

If they showed their identities here, it would become an issue Count Randell Fellbarrow would happily blow wide open.