Chapter 276 Chapter 275
The cool, frigid air whipped around Xenon’s face as he looked around, surveying his surroundings.
He had stepped out with the soldiers he’d selected for his first raid since Morvan left, and they trailed behind him, eyes sharp even as darkness still blanketed the ground.
He scanned the terrain slowly.
His brows furrowed as he gazed at the bare trees, a frown on his face. There were barely any leaves on most of them, their roots jutting out of the dry, cracked soil.
The famine was much more severe than he’d imagined. If one wasn’t careful, they could be easily spotted. He moved quickly, needing to be as far away from the fortress as possible. Ray streaks began cutting through the sky as they ran, the sun already rising.
The dry air lashed at his face, stinging his nose. “Where last did you spot the werewolf troops?”
Xenon asked the soldier next to him, crouching behind a tree.
“Far north, Your Majesty,” the man said, pointing out the direction, and Xenon gave a decisive nod.
“We keep that way, then. Stay close, everyone, and make sure to be quiet,” he bit out, moving forward while the others followed behind him.
It was rocky, hilly terrain, but Xenon and his men navigated it with ease, doing their best to keep themselves hidden, senses on high alert.
Xenon’s beasts were particularly working overtime.
They could pick up scents from a mile away, trying to ascertain if they were being surrounded.
Finally, his ears caught something, and they perked up. He stiffened, causing the rest of the men to halt.
“I hear something. Everyone gather close and stay hidden,” he ordered, and swiftly found a good hiding spot.
For a while, all they did was wait. The dawn finally cleared, giving way to the brightness of day, and with it came the sweltering heat.
Xenon’s back prickled, beads of sweat already gathering on his forehead, but he resisted the urge to try and hunt those damned scoundrels down, patiently waiting for them to walk into his vicinity.
“Should we wait and lay an ambush, or move forward first?” he muttered aloud to no one in particular. Then, with a sly grin, he answered his own question. “Let’s wait for them.” He was already itching for a fight.
It took a while, but it finally happened. Werewolf soldiers, numbering about a hundred, slowly made their way toward him and his men’s hiding spot.
Their armor was dirty, and they looked even gaunter than Xenon had imagined them to be. One of them spoke loudly, voice cracking through the still air.
“This is the third time we’ve searched this place this week, Commander. We didn’t find anything. I’ve told you before, there’s nothing here!”
Xenon’s fingers curled slowly against the bark beneath his palm. Inside him, his wolf paced around restlessly, begging to be let out.
To cause carnage.
The soldier kept talking. “Why don’t we just return to the king? Tell him we didn’t see anything?”
“So he can kill us?!” another snapped back.
“But we’ve already run out of supplies, and we’re starving as it is. It’s better to die in the palace than out here—where nobody will care or even bother to look for us!”
Xenon exhaled softly through his nose, teeth clenched hard.
They were close now.
“Enough!” someone growled, his voice thick with authority. “We’re not leaving here until we find at least one weretiger. They are out here, I’m sure.”
They trudged forward. In a much somber tone, he added, “All the men we sent prior—they all perished here. Didn’t you see their bones?”
A tense silence settled then.
“We will keep searching. We do not rest until we’ve found those scoundrels!”
Xenon smirked. You’re just in time.
He gave a signal, and every soldier hiding jumped out of their hiding spots, immediately pouncing on them.
Startled gasps and shouts filled the air for a split second before it instantly transformed into roars and grunts of rage as most shifted and began fighting.
The werewolf troop may have been more numerous, but Xenon’s men were skilled fighters, honed through years and years of training. They tore through their opponents, ripping limbs from their bodies, blood spraying onto the ground.
The fight became a blur of fur and fangs as most shifted, doing their best to contend with their attackers.
Their efforts were feeble at best.
Xenon stayed behind, watching the scene in grim satisfaction even as the beasts inside him banged at his chest, desperate to join the fight, to bathe in their enemies’ blood.
He eventually crawled out of his hiding spot, stealthily making his way to the battleground. Going after the werewolves who tried to escape, he sunk his claws into their shoulders, raised them high in the air, and broke their spines over his knee.
A gurgled, pained scream broke from their lips before they crumpled to the ground, dead.
Terror filled the hearts of the werewolf soldiers who witnessed the brutal killing of their colleague, but they put on a brave face, fighting with all they had.
Soon enough, their numbers started to dwindle as the weretiger army cut through them like a sickle through grass.
Xenon stood in the midst of the brawl, hands and feet coated in blood. His eyes were blazing.
“You’re right. There are weretigers in these woods,” he growled, his voice low and authoritative. “And you’ve met with some of them.”
Another werewolf tried running. Xenon instantly gave chase, ripping the man’s head off his neck. Blood spurted out, splashing onto his face.
“I don’t think anyone thought we’d meet like this,” he added, giving a signal to his men to retreat.
They stopped fighting, giving the surviving men a chance to see who was speaking. Many of their eyes grew wide as they settled on him.
“Y-you’re alive!” one screamed, his voice filled with shock and terror.
He forced the words out, stumbling backward in fear. Xenon discarded the headless body beside him.
“That’s impossible! You were killed seven years ago. Our people killed you!”
“No, you tried to…” Xenon murmured, shaking his head. “And failed terribly. But it’s alright. I hear your new king isn’t any better.”
He clicked his tongue. “Imagine knowing he’s sending you all to your deaths and still proceeding anyway. Can’t he come out himself, if he’s so eager to get rid of all of us? What’s he so afraid of?”
A few of the werewolves began scrambling away, and Xenon marched up to them, ripping through their thin bodies with a flex of his claws. Anguished screams tore from their lips, the sound sweet music to his beasts.
“You all are going to do something for me,” he said, stretching to his full height. “You’re going to deliver a message to that imposter on my seat, and you’re going to tell him to come find me himself.”