The Devouring Knight-Chapter 78 - 77: Peace Never Comes Freely

The trees stood still, branches swaying like old fingers in the mist. The air reeked of damp soil, blood, and something else, expectation.

The young noble clicked his tongue, arms crossed, irritation flickering across his face like a child denied a toy.

"What are those trashes doing? I told them to kill that spider, not take a vacation. Did they run away?"

The old knight at his side said nothing at first. His eyes were on the treeline, scanning the foggy expanse where the men had vanished. Twenty-four armed soldiers. Not scouts. Not amateurs. Killers. Hardened. Loyal.

They should’ve returned by now.

His jaw tightened beneath the shadow of his cloak.

’They didn’t run. Not in these woods. Not unless something ran faster.’

He glanced at the young master, too young, too proud, too blind.

"Running would be foolish," the knight finally said, voice gravel-thick. "Especially here. Even the stupid knows better than to stray alone with monsters still hunting."

The noble sneered. "Then what? They lost? To a half-dead spider?"

His voice cracked louder than he meant it to.

The knight gave a slow shake of his head.

’Something is wrong.’

His thoughts turned cold. No screams. No echoes of battle. Not even crows... If the giant spider was still alive, and capable of killing that many men in its weakened state, it wasn’t just instinct keeping it alive.

It was intent.

"We’ll send a second group," the old knight said, already waving over an officer. "Smaller. Smarter. Not to fight, just to find what’s left."

"And if there’s nothing left to find?" the noble asked, trying to sound bored, but the edge of nervousness bled through.

"Then," the knight replied without looking at him, "we stop pretending this forest is under your control."

He paused, hand resting on the pommel of his blade.

"And we start wondering who, or what is watching from the trees."

.....

Days passed.

The forest floor trembled as disciplined footsteps broke through the undergrowth. Goblin and kobold soldiers marched in formation, militia and hunter units at the front, archers following close behind, flanked by snarling wolves and the thunderous hooves of boar cavalry.

At the head of the formation, the captains arrived in force.

Skitz was already grinning, arms crossed.

"You even came, Krivex?" Skitz asked, raising a brow.

"I want to join in the fun," Krivex replied, tone light but eyes sharp. "Grokk can handle the village."

Skitz chuckled. "Sure. Let’s call it fun. You’re just eager to evolve, aren’t you?"

Krivex didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Behind them, Gobo2 jogged up, gaze wide as he stared at the hulking black mass being slowly pulled under a thick cloth stretcher.

"What’s that big monster? Looks strong."

The figure beneath the cloth was massive, its bulk slung across a reinforced sled. Its form twitched, wrapped in webbing and poultices. Something old. Something wounded. Something still dangerous.

Lumberling stepped in front of it, calm and steady.

"He’s a good friend of mine," he said.

Shade quieted.

The captains looked on in silence. Even Aren, usually unimpressed by beasts, lowered his eyes with a flicker of respect. Something about the spider’s presence, it demanded it.

Then Lumberling turned back to his army.

His voice rose.

"Captains. From here on out, we engage."

No one moved. No one spoke. All eyes on him.

"I’ve confirmed the enemy," Lumberling continued. "One Quasi-Knight. The rest are soldiers. Disciplined. Armored. Don’t let your guard down. And watch your strikes..."

He paused, a slow smile forming.

"Because those weapons and armor will soon be ours."

A ripple of energy passed through the troops.

"Prepare to engage."

The captains nodded, weapons readying. Ranks tightened. Battle aura stirred in the air like smoke before a fire.

The warband marched beneath a canopy of rustling leaves, the sound of armor and claws blending with the distant calls of birds. Shade, still bandaged and bruised, was strapped gently to a reinforced sled pulled by four boars. It hissed now and then in agitation, but it no longer had the strength to rise.

Lumberling walked at the front, his cloak fluttering in the breeze, Krivex beside him.

"Why the sudden strike? We’ve stayed hidden for years. You always said secrecy was our shield."

Lumberling didn’t break stride. "Of course. We’re doing this to contribute to the Empire," he said, smiling like a merchant selling spoiled meat.

Krivex raised a brow.

The silence between them stretched.

"Alright, alright," he began, "first of all, they’re a threat. If we wait, they’ll be the ones knocking on our door. And I’m not about to let that happen."

Krivex nodded, but said nothing.

"Second," Lumberling continued, "this is a chance, maybe our only one to let our soldiers face real human forces. We’ve trained, drilled, evolved, but we’ve been dodging the war. That war’s creeping toward us, whether we like it or not."

Krivex glanced at the troops behind them: goblins whispering battle chants, kobolds tightening their spears, archers checking fletchings, cavalry steadying their boars. They were ready.

"I also have something in mind," Lumberling added, softer now. "A long-term plan. I was going to wait until things were more stable, but with the war reaching our doorstep... it’s time. We’ll talk about it once this battle is done."

Krivex raised a brow but didn’t press.

"Let’s not forget, they come dressed in fine armor and bring their own horses. Saves us the trouble."

He looked ahead.

"And they hurt a friend of mine."

Krivex studied his face, then gave a single nod. "That’s reason enough."

Lumberling exhaled. "Peace doesn’t come freely."

He turned his gaze toward the fogged forest. "Sometimes, you have to carve out your quiet with a blade."

They marched on, into battle, and into a future that could no longer wait.

....

Meanwhile, in the Sengolio Camp

The old knight stood at the edge of the camp’s clearing, arms folded behind his back, eyes on the darkened treeline. Fog clung low, curling at the ankles of soldiers moving to and fro. The past few days had been eerily quiet. Too quiet.

A whisper of instinct crawled down his spine.

’What is this feeling...’

He glanced to the woods.

’An ambush? A presence? No... a gaze.’

His eyes flicked upward.

Above the canopy, a golden eagle cut slow, deliberate circles in the sky.

His jaw tightened. "We’re being watched."

He was about to shout for archers to bring it down—

but a horn sounded. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

A long, sharp wail.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Shouts exploded across the camp. Panic flashed through the ranks like wildfire, but discipline kicked in almost as fast. Soldiers scrambled for weapons, shields were hoisted, helmets buckled. They formed into squads with the precision of drilled steel.

"Are we exposed? Did Pentaline find us!?" shouted one lieutenant.

"Doesn’t matter! Form the lines! Prepare to engage!" the knight barked.

From behind the central tent, the young noble emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What now?"

"Get back inside!" the knight snapped. "We are under attack."

’He’s soft, but if he dies here, it won’t just be our lives at stake. His mother’s lineage, Madam Venice’s bloodline, would end with him.’

"By who?!" The young noble reached instinctively for the pommel of his decorative blade, but his hand trembled and fell away before it touched the hilt. "Tch. Probably just forest rats."

The old knight didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

But something was coming.

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