Chapter Forty-Three: The Hunt

The two groups kept to themselves, neither causing trouble, and the night passed peacefully. The sky was still dim when the soldiers, seeing Hugues apparently asleep, quietly slipped away. In reality, Hugues had not slept at all—how could he rest in such wild terrain? With eyes closed, he had been meditating throughout the night; to an observer, it was indistinguishable from sleep.

Nevertheless, Hugues remained curious about the contents of the box, but as the soldiers had already left, he decided not to dwell on it anymore. At dawn, the sun spilled across the earth, marking the start of a new day’s labors. Hugues gathered his belongings, ready to set out once again.

Just as Hugues prepared to depart, a group suddenly surrounded him from behind. The sharp neighing of horses echoed as they closed in. “Hey, kid—have you seen a group pass by? Seven men in armor, carrying a large box!” The speaker wore a black outfit and a fox mask, his voice deep and menacing.

“They’re pursuing those men from earlier—probably after whatever’s in the box,” Hugues thought to himself. He quickly feigned fear. “S-sir, yes, there was a group that left early this morning along this road. As they left, they said someone was after them, and if pushed too far, they’d destroy whatever’s inside the box.” Hugues glanced at the masked man, gauging his reaction.

“Damn it! Those bastards! If I catch them, I’ll kill them all—send them straight to hell!” The masked man erupted in rage upon hearing Hugues’ words.

“Boss, getting angry won’t help now. We need to catch up to them quickly, or we won’t be able to answer to the sorcerer,” another man with a thick beard whispered beside the masked leader.

Though spoken quietly, Hugues caught the most crucial word: “sorcerer.”

“So the box’s contents are related to a sorcerer. Should I…?” Hugues hesitated. The conversation ignited his desire to see what was inside the box—anything involving a sorcerer surely had value.

“Sir, I—I can guide you. I know their direction,” Hugues took the initiative, offering to lead the way.

“You?” The masked man looked Hugues up and down, deliberating.

“Boss, I’ve watched this kid. He’s not dangerous—no calluses on his hands, probably never trained. Let him show us the way, and once we find them, we can kill him. Assign someone to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t pull any tricks.”

“Fine! You—if you don’t find them, don’t blame me for what happens!” The masked man finally agreed, letting Hugues lead.

With Hugues at the front, the group followed closely, tearing down the road at a reckless pace. Their urgency annoyed passing merchants, but seeing the masked men’s intimidating presence, none dared protest.

Along the way, Hugues tried to probe for information about the box’s contents, but the masked man rebuffed every attempt, even threatening to kill him if he asked again.

Seeing how seriously the masked man guarded the box, Hugues’ curiosity only grew.

After a day and night of pursuit, Hugues finally spotted the group by a stream at noon the next day. From a distance, he saw them replenishing their water supplies.

“Sir,” Hugues signaled the masked man, drawing his attention to the group.

“Hmm. Kylott!” The masked man summoned the bearded companion.

“Yes, boss!” Kylott stepped forward, awaiting orders.

“Tell everyone to be cautious. Surround Sear and his seven men—I want them all dead. Let them learn what happens to thieves.” The masked man issued his orders with murderous intent.

“Understood.” Kylott immediately began to carefully encircle the group.

The masked man and several others slowly approached as well.

Noticing no one was watching him, Hugues slipped away to a hidden spot, waiting for the right moment.

Oblivious to the approaching danger, Sear and his companions had grown lax after days of exhaustion. Perhaps they believed they had finally shaken their pursuers.

“Sear, long time no see! How I’ve missed you—what should I do, eh? Hahaha!” The masked man’s sudden appearance drained all color from Sear’s face.

“H-how… how did you catch up?” Sear stared in disbelief. He had led his group on a relentless march, barely stopping to rest, carefully choosing the most obscure route—yet they had still been tracked down.

“Heh, you should blame yourself for sloppy work, not others,” the masked man said, regarding Sear and his companions as prey.

“Boss, it’s that guy we met on the road!” Sear’s companion whispered urgently.

“It’s him!” Sear recalled Hugues’ face with regret. If only he had listened and dealt with the boy sooner, today’s disaster might have been avoided.

“Belta, what do you want?” Sear gritted his teeth, facing the masked man. Regret was useless now; his priority was survival.

“What do you think, Sear? I’m here for what belongs to us.” The masked man’s tone was mocking, clearly pleased by their shock, his anger soothed by their dismay.

“You can take the box—but let us go!” Sear’s hopes were dashed; he knew they were finished.

“Let you go? Is that a plea? Sear, you scum dared steal from the sorcerer—bold, indeed. Do you think I’ll let you live? Sloat, attack!” At his command, over twenty men surged forward, weapons drawn.

“Fight them! If we die, at least they won’t have it easy!” Sear drew his sword and rushed into battle. His companions followed, desperate for survival.

“Foolish!” The masked man watched their resistance with amusement.

The battle was swift. Sear’s group fought valiantly, but outnumbered, wounds opened across their bodies. Blood seeped through their armor, and fatigue soon dropped them to the ground.

“Boss!” Sloat retrieved the box from a horse and handed it to the masked leader. “A dozen of ours were wounded, but none fatally. With some bandages, they’ll recover in ten days or so.”

“Good. Everyone will be well rewarded when we return.”

“Also, boss, that kid from before seems to have escaped—we can’t find him anywhere.”

“Let him go. He’s just a commoner—no threat.” Though slightly displeased by Hugues’ escape, the masked man was satisfied to have recovered the box.

He was unaware that Hugues had witnessed everything.

Hugues lay low in a nearby thicket, like a venomous snake waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As dusk fell, the masked man’s group remained by the stream, tending to their many wounded. Being near water made things easier, and Hugues patiently waited for nightfall, when he could act unseen.

The box’s recovery put the masked man in a good mood—he even had his men hunt and roast some wild game.

Hugues kept his eyes on the masked man and Sloat. His chip scan revealed they were the strongest in the group. He planned to use sorcery for a swift, lethal strike, and deal with the others afterward.

At night, Hugues approached the camp, locating the masked man’s tent. He prepared to act.

By the firelight, Hugues watched the shadows moving within the tent.

“Carolla-Utara!” Hugues invoked a lightning spell, aiming to kill in a single blow.

A thunderous bolt shot toward the tent, striking the figure inside.

A series of agonized screams echoed through the dark night.

Hugues stepped toward the blasted remains of the tent, the air thick with the nauseating scent of burnt flesh.

He didn’t bother to check the masked man's features—the charred body confirmed death was certain.

Hugues grabbed the box lying nearby and rushed toward the horses tied in the forest. He quickly untied one and galloped away.