Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 681: Bandit Becometh the Raided I

CH681 Bandit Becometh the Raided I

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The following day...

Following a series of successful assaults on the bases, outposts, and caravans belonging to the Lost Heathens, Alex and the Fortuna company were finally able to indulge in a full night of undisturbed rest.

The sheer irony of the situation was not lost on Alex.

His own company had, in essence, transformed into a group of brigands—preying upon the Lost Heathens, a notorious bandit collective in their own right.

This outcome was not coincidental.

It was merely Alex’s particular brand of retribution—albeit a rather unconventional one.

The strategy was to defeat them using their own methods.

While the Lost Heathens throughout the Wildlands likely spent the night ensconced in fear and on high alert, the Fortuna company slept soundly.

As the sun ascended and the group commenced their morning repast, numerous individuals directed subtle gazes toward the young man who had guided them through one decisive triumph after another.

At this juncture, their eagerness to fight under his leadership surpassed his own desire to lead them into combat.

Alex perceived their looks and could offer nothing more than a wry smile in acknowledgment.

He inclined his head slightly, then refocused his attention on his meal.

Once their sustenance was concluded, the company undertook a rapid yet exhaustive inventory of their supplies—giving special consideration to the available quantity of bolts for each unit.

The critical nature of ammunition had been unequivocally demonstrated in their recent encounters.

Without any need for prompting, every subordinate unit leader ensured that all expended bolts were retrieved. Even those that were bent or damaged were collected, just in case they could be salvaged and repurposed.

Following the inspection, the company began making arrangements to depart once more.

Alex paused momentarily.

His gaze sharpened slightly as he observed a figure descending swiftly from the heavens.

He extended his arm.

A messenger bird alighted with elegance upon his limb.

Alex detached the message affixed to its leg before setting it free. The bird promptly ascended, returning to its point of origin.

He unfurled the note, perused its contents, and then offered a subtle nod.

A fleeting AetherKindle flame reduced the paper to fine ash within his grasp.

“The next designated location has been confirmed,” Alex announced to Kavakan. “Make ready the troops.”

A primary factor contributing to the Fortuna company’s success in locating and dismantling numerous Lost Heathen strongholds was a conflict their adversaries were unaware they were even participating in—

A war waged through information.

Alex had provided the funding and directives for Raven Horn to discreetly establish an intelligence bounty network.

In exchange for recompense that varied from a single low-grade berserk stone to a hundred mid-grade berserk stones—or items of equivalent value—the local populace was more than willing to divulge intelligence concerning Lost Heathen activities spread across the Wildlands.

And so long as the information proved to be accurate...

The promised rewards were disbursed without hesitation.

Curiously, a significant portion of the intelligence acquired through the bounty network was remarkably precise—so intimately detailed—that it could only have originated from individuals within the ranks of the Lost Heathens themselves.

‘No camaraderie among thieves and brigands... as anticipated,’ Alex reflected internally.

Within moments, the encampment had been dismantled, and the entire company was mounted and prepared for movement.

With Senu maintaining aerial surveillance and transmitting her visual feed directly to Alex, and Fen’s temporary pack providing flank security, the Fortuna company advanced rapidly towards the recently identified destination.

Their chosen path traversed a rugged mountain range that enclosed a broad basin.

Water cascading from the surrounding peaks frequently accumulated within it, fostering the growth of exceptionally lush vegetation inside the basin.

Under typical circumstances, this area might have served as an excellent site for a settlement.

Regrettably, the region was subject to unpredictable inundations during its erratic rainy seasons, rendering permanent habitation impractical.

Nevertheless, it proved to be an advantageous travel corridor—much like the Rock Monkey Gorge that separated Camp Red Rock and Dragonstone Town from the BloodIron territory.

The ascending morning sun bathed the terrain in a diffused radiance, and a subtle mist lingered over the basin, impairing visibility from elevated positions.

Alex’s lips contorted into a slight smirk as he deciphered the enemy’s intentions.

Nevertheless, he elected to proceed according to their assumed plan.

He issued the order for the company to take up positions near the basin’s egress and await developments.

Before long, a caravan emerged into view.

At first assessment, it appeared rather unremarkable—possessing considerably fewer carriages than anticipated.

Some members of Fortuna voiced quiet murmurs of dissatisfaction. Fewer carriages implied diminished spoils.

After all, Alex’s campaign was not fueled solely by spite.

The plunder acquired from each raid helped to assuage the lingering sorrow within the ranks—particularly among those who had sustained losses of comrades during prior engagements.

Concurrently, the loot served an additional function.

It sustained morale among the more recent recruits—individuals who lacked the profound personal animosity towards the Lost Heathens—thereby fortifying their camaraderie and solidifying their collective resolve.

However, this sense of disappointment was short-lived.

As the caravan approached, it became evident that the guard contingent far surpassed the typical number for such a modest convoy.

The implication was unmistakable.

Whatever the caravan transported, it was of exceptional value—goods that commanded a price per unit far exceeding ordinary freight.

Alex raised his hand.

An eager barbarian promptly surged forward, preparing to signal the caravan to cease its movement.

The caravan guards could hardly believe their eyes.

They carried the banner of the Lost Heathens—a flag that, under normal circumstances, was sufficient to dissuade any bandit group from even contemplating an ambush.

Yet, on this particular day, that emblem possessed no sway.

A bandit force had halted them regardless.

The caravan leader's expression grew stern.

He swiftly raised his hand, signaling the caravan to stop and adopt a defensive posture.

The guards reacted with immediate precision—weapons were drawn, shields were raised, and their gazes became fixed upon the approaching menace.

This man had dedicated decades to traversing the Wildlands before ultimately assuming the role of caravan leader for the Lost Heathens. He understood a fundamental truth—

If someone dared to intercept a convoy flying their flag... then they were fully prepared for the ensuing confrontation.

Alex propelled Dread onward, breaking formation before coming to a stop at the very forefront of the Fortuna company.

He deliberately paused.

He afforded the caravan ample time to finalize their defensive preparations, his cold gaze fixed beyond them, as if already contemplating the aftermath.

Only when they were fully ready did he lift his hand once more.

With an unsettling composure, he issued the command—

"Obliterate them all."

"Charge!"

A simultaneous roar erupted from multiple sub-unit commanders.

Formation after formation surged forward, exhibiting discipline and precision despite the sheer ferocity of their assault.

Kavakan’s strike unit spearheaded the advance.

The opening ranks—comprised of orcs and barbarians—moved with colossal tower shields, many of which had been... 'acquired' from various Lost Heathen armories.

Directly behind them advanced the main contingent under Sergeant Lopota, while Silver’s marksman division maintained their position just beyond, prepared to render supporting fire.

The caravan's archers responded with swift volleys, loosing a cascade of arrows in high arcs, intending to bypass the shield wall.

But before the arrows could impact—

Mogal stepped into the fray.

[One-Heart Punch] [Unyielding]!

Channeling the stored power within the Chain of Unyielding, he unleashed a singular, devastating punch.

The immense pressure emanating from the strike distorted the very air — scattering the incoming arrows mid-flight.

Those that managed to descend upon the formation landed with significantly reduced impact.

The assault claimed no lives, merely serving to shatter the morale of the Lost Heathens.

Fortuna’s ranged units retaliated without delay.

The hundred-strong pump-action crossbow contingent and the fifty marksmen equipped with bolt-action crossbows unleashed a synchronized barrage.

Heavy bolts sliced through the air—

Thwack!

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