Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree-Chapter 496: Escape

Old Bill suddenly looked up, only to see a figure in dirty leather armor rushing out from the swirling smoke and dust—it was his son, Tom.

Tom gripped an iron sword tightly with both hands, his face smeared with soot. His eyes were filled with fear, but more than that, a resolute determination to protect his family.

He didn’t foolishly dash towards the spitting insect; instead, he fiercely hurled a stone at the Insect Race creature gnawing at the wooden door beside him.

The stone struck the shell with a dull thud, causing no damage but successfully drawing the attention of several nearby Insect Race creatures.

"Father! Mother! Run! Head towards the grove outside the town!" Tom shouted as he deftly retreated, trying to lure the Insect Race away.

Compared to those true Knights, his movements seemed clumsy, his steps a bit frantic, but his courage brought tears to Old Bill’s eyes.

The spitting insect indeed turned its attention, abandoning its nearby target, and aimed at Tom, spitting out a sickly green acid like an arrow.

Tom dove awkwardly to the side, the acid brushing past the edge of his leather armor, landing on the mud, instantly corroding a small pit and releasing pungent white smoke.

The edge of the leather armor was also eaten away, hissing ominously.

"Tom!" Old Bill’s wife let out a sharp cry.

Old Bill knew he couldn’t hesitate any longer; the instinct to survive and worry for his son overwhelmed everything.

He swiftly grabbed his almost collapsing wife, using all his strength, and dashed from behind the broken wall towards the grove of oak trees on the town’s outskirts.

He didn’t dare look back at his son, fearing that doing so would rob him of the courage to flee.

Old Bill knew very well that now was not the moment to dash towards Tom with his wife; otherwise, everyone would perish.

Seeing his parents begin their escape, Tom felt somewhat relieved.

He dared not linger in battle, using the evasive techniques he learned in the guard and his youthful agile body to weave through the ruins, evading the Insect Race’s pursuit.

A swift Blade Insect swung its Bone Blade at him, and he barely managed to parry with his iron sword, the immense force numbing his wrist, almost making him drop the sword.

Utilizing the momentum, he rolled backward, scrambled to his feet, and continued running.

Tom led several Insect Race creatures around a small loop, then suddenly accelerated, rushing towards the direction his parents were fleeing.

His heart thundered in his chest, his lungs burned fiercely, but he dared not stop.

Finally, the family of three stumbled into the familiar oak grove outside the town.

The forest temporarily blocked the Insect Race’s sight and pursuit path. They dared not rest and continued to flee deeper into the woods towards the allegedly safer hill.

Only when they could no longer hear the terrifying sounds from behind, when their legs felt as if filled with lead, did all three collapse beneath a giant oak tree, gasping heavily.

Old Bill looked at his son beside him, panting heavily, face scratched by branches, and leather armor still marked by acid corrosion, and tears finally welled up uncontrollably.

He reached out his calloused, trembling hand, wanting to touch his son’s face, yet feared to hurt him.

"Tom... my child..." he choked up, a thousand words stuck in his throat.

Tom panted heavily, yet tried hard to squeeze out a smile, although it was somewhat twisted from fear: "It’s over, Father, Mother, we... we made it out."

They looked back, only to see the direction of Gravel Town enveloped in thick smoke, the outline of their former home barely visible through the dust.

The dark purple hue, symbolizing death and destruction, continued to writhe within the village and town.

The shelter the oak forest provided was only temporary, as Old Bill’s family and other scattered villagers who had escaped briefly caught their breath, driven by greater fear, they trudged towards the only glimmer of hope on this land, Viscount Button’s castle.

The road to the castle was packed with refugees equally panicked and disoriented.

Faces filled with confusion, sorrow, and deep-seated fear crossed their paths as families carried scant belongings, some with traces of blood or minor burns.

No one spoke; only the heavy footsteps, suppressed sobs, and the faint cries of children lingered in the air, forming an oppressive silence.

In the distance, Viscount Button’s stone castle, built on the hills, finally came into view.

Its gray outline, dotted with watchtowers, usually a symbol of oppression and power, now became the sole beacon of hope in despair.

However, this beacon seemed not intended to illuminate everyone.

As they finally dragged their leaden legs to the castle’s foot, the sight before them sank their hearts.

A dense mass of refugees had already gathered at the castle’s heavy ironwood gates, far exceeding Gravel Town’s survivors, appearing to come from other neighboring villages attacked.

The drawbridge hung high; the gates were tightly shut.

The walls were lined with soldiers in leather armor, armed with spears and bows, their expressions tense and vigilant.

A figure clad in Chain Armor, seemingly a Guard Captain, stood atop the walls, repeatedly shouting in a cold voice:

"Silence! Everyone quiet! The castle’s capacity is limited; food supplies are even more constricted! Currently, only soldiers, Knights, and their families with combat capabilities will be admitted. All others must seek refuge elsewhere outside."

These words were like ice water, dousing the fire of hope that had just ignited in most refugees’ eyes, and immediately cries, pleas, and curses rang out.

"Mister! Have mercy! Let us in!"

"My child is still young!"

"We can work! We can help defend the castle!"

However, the Guard Captain on the wall remained unmoved, his face cold and hard.

The soldiers’ spears slightly lowered, aiming at the restless crowd with a warning.

Old Bill clung tightly to his wife’s hand, looking at the despairing crowd before him, then at his exhausted, terrified son Tom, his heart turned icy cold.

They were just ordinary farmers; by the rules, they had no right to enter this refuge.

Just then, Tom gritted his teeth, released the hand supporting his mother, took a deep breath, and squeezed his way towards the wall.

"I’m Tom, a Knight Attendant! From Gravel Town Guard, I’ve mastered the Breathing Technique!" Tom shouted with all his strength, striving to keep his voice steady.

Simultaneously, he slightly activated the faint airflow within, a layer of barely visible white light flickered briefly on his hand holding the sword.

This weak glow, at this moment, stood out like a torch.

The Guard Captain on the wall immediately fixated his gaze on him, scrutinizing him for a few moments.