Chapter 47: Who Is the Prey

Roland and his two companions could not help but feel a tremor in their hearts. Previously, when faced with the menace of over a hundred Thornbeasts charging at them, Captain Bob had not shown such panic. Now, with only sixty or seventy left and already retreating, he appeared even more frantic.

Though puzzled, as novices visiting the Maya Mountains for the first time, they chose to heed their captain’s warning. They turned and fled without hesitation. Roland leapt onto the back of his donkey, Little Black, which galloped swiftly on all fours. Seated atop the donkey, Roland began to recover the mental and magical energy he had expended in casting several third-tier necromancy spells in quick succession.

As they ran, Roland’s peripheral vision wandered to the nearby Thornbeast herd. He was curious—what could have so terrified a fourth-tier warrior like Bob? He watched and saw a scene that sent chills down his spine.

The Thornbeasts, which had gathered together, suddenly began to tear at and devour one another. In a few vicious bites, the victor would open its jaws wide and swallow the vanquished whole. Its body would swell in size, growing noticeably larger. In this manner, within just a few breaths, the original sixty or seventy ordinary Thornbeasts had merged into five or six hulking monsters. These massive beasts did not stop; they continued to attack and consume each other.

“Hurry! These Thornbeasts are draining life force and fusing together. Once the final fusion is complete, that beast’s power will surge beyond anything we can handle!” Captain Bob’s urgent voice rang in the ears of Roland and his companions.

Land and Monle, both third-tier warriors, summoned all their battle energy, pushing their speed to the utmost. The donkey, though burdened with Roland, had already reached the strength of a fourth-tier magical beast and was a natural runner. Now, running for its life, it raced ahead like a gust of wind, leaving dust in its wake.

Suddenly, an enraged roar echoed from behind, followed by the sound of trees snapping in the distance.

“This is bad—it’s fused so quickly! Split up and run! I’ll stay behind and hold it off. Go!” Bob shouted, then stopped dead in his tracks. He remembered that his teacher had entrusted him with his two junior brothers, treating them as precious as treasures and charging him with their safety. If anything happened to them, he would face dire consequences upon his return.

With a thunderous crash, a giant Thornbeast over ten feet long landed before him, its massive body striking the ground and sending dust flying.

The beast, seeing a mere human blocking its path, let out a furious bellow and leapt at him.

Bob raised his greatsword and, summoning all his strength, swung mightily at the enormous paw descending on him.

With a resounding clang, the fused beast’s defense proved formidable—the sword did not even scratch it, and the force of the blow sent the weapon flying, nearly wrenching it from Bob’s grip. He hastily dodged aside, narrowly evading the beast’s claw.

Before he could recover, the creature’s thick, spiked tail whipped toward him, faster and deadlier than the claws.

Bob’s heart lurched—such speed was impossible to avoid. If he could not withstand the blow, he would be doomed. In this desperate moment, he roared, his face flushed with an unnatural heat. Suddenly, his aura surged; clearly, he had used a secret technique to forcefully enhance his strength, though this came at a steep price.

His energy peaking, Bob raised his greatsword and met the steel-whip tail head-on as it lashed toward him like lightning!

Meanwhile, three or four miles away, Roland and his companions suddenly heard a deafening crash behind them. Their hearts clenched with fear for Captain Bob, but they dared not stop—they ran on with all their might.

When sunlight once more bathed the Maya Mountains, Roland and his donkey had already fled an unknown distance. The roar of the giant Thornbeast was now only a memory. Exhausted, both Little Black and Roland spotted a small stream ahead and hurried toward it in delight.

Roland dismounted, knelt by the water, and scooped up handfuls of the clear stream to splash over his face.

“Ah… how refreshing!” A wave of coolness washed over him, making him sigh with pleasure. He then drank several mouthfuls of the crisp water, feeling revitalized.

Little Black leapt into the river, reveling in a joyous bath.

Just as Roland was about to settle for a good rest, a sudden splash erupted from the stream. A black-and-white shape shot from the water, hurtling straight at him.

Startled, Roland twisted aside just in time to avoid a fatal blow. The creature’s wing, sharp as a blade, sliced a deep gash in his left arm.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Roland sprang to his feet and saw the attacker—a white-bodied, black-winged fish. After its initial strike, it arced through the air in a loop, preparing to dive at him again.

“Blackwing Silverfish!” Roland exclaimed. This aquatic magical beast of the second tier bore a pair of razor-sharp, chitinous wings and could glide short distances through the air. He had not expected such a creature to lurk in this unremarkable stream. It seemed that Uncle Kus had spoken true: in the Maya Mountains, magical beasts could emerge from any nook or cranny; one could never be too careful.

Now, as the Blackwing Silverfish spread its wings for another pass, Roland snorted softly. A flash of light, and a staff appeared in his hand. He leveled it at the fish, and a massive fireball hurtled toward his foe.

The fish was caught off-guard, struck directly by the fireball. The impact and flames nearly robbed it of life. It staggered in midair, barely regaining balance, then flared its wings and dove for the water—clearly intent on fleeing from a dangerous opponent.

“If you’ve come to me, don’t think I’ll let you escape so easily!” Roland jabbed his staff again, and suddenly, a bolt of lightning crashed down from the sky, striking the fleeing fish. With a crack, it convulsed and fell from the air. Little Black, already waiting nearby, sprang forward, snapping up the prey in one bite. With a crunch, the fish moved no more.

Now a third-tier mage, Roland could instantly cast first-tier spells—no chants required—enabling him to attack with remarkable speed.

“Heh, talk about luck! After a whole night of running, my stomach’s been growling, and here’s a second-tier magical beast delivered for breakfast.” Roland cast a fire healing spell on his wounded arm, then cheerfully gathered sturdy sticks to build a high rack. He placed the Blackwing Silverfish atop and conjured fire magic to begin roasting it.

The beast was over twenty pounds—far too big to roast directly. In the daylight, with Roland carefully controlling the fire’s range, he felt no fear of attracting hordes of magical beasts with his cooking.

Soon, the aroma of roasting fish filled the air, making Little Black drool uncontrollably. Seeing his donkey’s longing, Roland laughed and scolded him.

Suddenly, Roland’s expression changed. He realized that while the fire might be inconspicuous by day, the rich scent was not. If Little Black was this tempted, what would other magical beasts do upon catching the scent?

With this in mind, Roland hurriedly finished roasting the fish, then stowed it in his necromancer’s space. Little Black, drooling and eager for a bite, bared his teeth in protest. Roland quickly explained the situation, and the two of them made a swift departure.

Sure enough, no sooner had they left than several large magical beasts arrived at the spot, drawn by the tantalizing smell. Finding nothing but a charred rack, they roared in frustration and departed.

Roland and his donkey traveled a fair distance before stopping in a secluded spot. With a flash, a table appeared among the grass, and atop it lay the perfectly roasted Blackwing Silverfish. With the ample space of his necromancer’s domain, Roland had no qualms about bringing a table for his convenience.

He took out a sharp knife—purchased along with his staff—divided the fish into two chunks, tossed the larger to the donkey, and kept the smaller for himself. The two of them devoured their meal ravenously. Roland planned to set out in search of the ancient ruins, as Uncle Kus had instructed, once they finished eating.

“Mmm, not bad! As expected of a second-tier magical beast—so much tastier than ordinary hare or pheasant!” Roland praised between bites, while Little Black chomped away noisily, grease smeared across his mouth.

In no time, the Blackwing Silverfish was gone, demolished by man and beast alike. Yet, glancing at each other, both could see in the other’s eyes the same unsatisfied look. Just as they were about to seek out more food, a subtle smile appeared on Roland’s face.

He had detected, through his spell of Dark Perception, a plump creature cautiously approaching. “Little Black, another treat is coming our way!” Roland sent a message to his companion’s mind.

Within the dense forest, a hefty gray Light Wolf crept forward, having spotted two potential prey ahead. All it needed was to draw close and deliver a fatal strike—and a delicious feast would be won.

It moved with extreme care, avoiding any sound as it brushed past grass and leaves. Step by step, it drew nearer, until less than two yards separated it from its targets. But just as it prepared to pounce, the wolf caught sight of their faces—and shuddered.

For Roland and his donkey were both smiling at the ‘prey’ lurking in the grass—their mouths glistening with fresh saliva!