Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage - Chapter 399

Chapter 399: Barnsil Militia Massacre I
CH399 Barnsil Militia Massacre I

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Unlike Pangea—where nobles mostly hired talented Professionals for their armies—it seemed Verdantis operated differently.

Here, even local nobility supplemented their forces with ordinary humans.

This suggested one of two possibilities:

Either Verdantis experienced constant, large-scale conflicts that required vast numbers of bodies…

or the plane simply didn’t have enough Ascension-talented individuals, making ordinary soldiers indispensable.

Whichever the truth was, it would affect Alex’s long-term expedition strategy.

Unfortunately, Barnsil was a poor metric for determining which case was true.

Baron Leland Helton, by every account, was weak even by Baron standards. More a knight with a rented title than a true noble. His lands and rank were granted by the Luxen Duchy rather than inherited, and they weren’t even recognised by the Empire proper.

The cynic in Alex suspected the truth: the Duchy wanted a loyal guard dog on the border — one they could replace at any time.

Either way, the Baron was about to suffer tonight.

The day had been perfectly normal at the Barnsil Militia Camp.

Rumours had circulated earlier that Lord Juror had issued a divine prophecy, but none of the militia cared. Surely it had nothing to do with their insignificant town.

The militia itself consisted mostly of ordinary folk. Barely trained with their chosen weapons, barely competent in formations. They were good for breaking up drunken brawls at taverns… but battlefield combat was far beyond them.

At best, they were cannon fodder.

Everyone knew the true burden of defending the Luxen border fell to the proper troops stationed inside the fortress.

In fact, this was precisely why the militia members had taken the job — good pay, little risk, and almost no real responsibilities.

Alas, that false sense of security was about to be shattered.

Figures emerged from the darkness, silent like ghosts.

The leading figure watched the camp with glowing ruby-red eyes.

With a single wave of his hand, shadows stirred—and multiple spectres shot out from behind him, vaulting over the three-metre fence as if it were nothing.

The spectres moved with silent precision, splitting off toward their assigned targets across the camp.

Signal bells, weapon caches, defensive posts—each location was swiftly sabotaged. Ropes severed, gears jammed while locks destroyed.

Within moments, the camp’s vital defence and alert infrastructure were rendered useless.

Then two spectres drifted back toward the main gates.

One of them rose from within the crossing shadows at the guards’ feet, materialising between them like a phantom.

Before either could gasp, twin short swords flashed—clean slices through both their necks.

At the same moment, the second spectre drew four arrows at once.

She loosed them in a single fluid motion.

Thwip—thwip—thwip—thwip!

Each arrow found its mark in the chests of the watchtower guards above, sending them tumbling silently to the ground beyond the wooden walls.

“Gates secured. Opening now,” Udara whispered over comms.

She slid out the thick wooden bolt and, with Silver’s help, pulled the gates open.

The rest of the expedition marched in, Alex leading the way.

The gates shut quietly behind them.

Alex’s ruby-red eyes drifted to the fallen guards at his feet.

Blood pooled toward his boots, staining the ground. There was even already a splash at the hem of his trousers.

He exhaled slowly.

He knew what came next.

‘I can’t afford mercy tonight.’

He hardened his resolve and raised his hand.

“Do it.”

Immediately, the members of the expedition surged forward.

They split into four small strike teams—four or so members each—moving in coordinated silence.

Their first priority was to sweep the perimeter.

The patrolling guards never saw them coming.

A chokehold in the dark, a blade between ribs, a swift arrow to the throat.

Within minutes, every patrol guard lay dead. And the camp was now exposed and essentially defenceless.

Ordinarily, if Alex commanded overwhelming numbers, he might have offered terms of surrender.

But that wasn’t the case.

They had killed perhaps fifty militia already—barely a fragment of the force stationed here.

More than a hundred remained.

Ordinary men or not, no group that large would surrender to just twenty-two invaders.

And even if by some miracle they did… his group was too small to control them.

For a brief moment, Alex one again regretted the loss of his Rune-Tech.

If he still had access to his full arsenal, he could have casted a number of wide area non-lethal spells—particularly mass sleep, binding or even suppression spells that could’ve enabled his group neutralise the militia without having to resort to wanton slaughter.

Unfortunately, none of the spellcasters present could cover an entire camp at once, nor at a scale large enough to matter –not even Zora could cast the needed spells at that range.

There was only one pragmatic choice left.

Slaughter.

The expedition members split into their assigned routes, moving from tent to tent, cutting down militia in their sleep with cold efficiency.

No hesitation.

Just steel in the dark and the wet sound of blood spilling into dirt.

They deliberately avoided the officers’ quarters—the sleeping areas of the Bronze and Silver-ranked Professionals.

Those ones would sense killing intent or the creeping blood-scent far quicker than their men.

The plan was simple; to thin the herd first by eliminating the weak fodder, and only then face the Professionals.

It wasn’t pretty nor was it particularly honourable.

But it was war—and they were outnumbered nearly twenty to one.

Apart from Alex, Zora, Eleanor, and Sugud, everyone else became a machine of death.

The Fury Knights and Alex’s retainers had grown up in the Fury family’s brutal Agoges.

Killing was second nature to them—an old habit that no longer brought about any associated moral dilemma.

Most of them had seen more battles than the average militia here combined.

Alex—and surprisingly, Zora—moved through the growing scent of blood without flinching.

Sugud and Eleanor were less composed.

Eleanor had at least witnessed her share of gore thanks to her profession as a Healer, but Sugud…

Sugud had spent most of his life hunched over workbenches, blueprints and various constructs –not corpses.

Alex could have left them behind, but he intentionally chose not to.

They needed to see this now.

This expedition would likely force them through much worse.

Zora moved closer to Alex and whispered,

“We’ll lose the element of surprise soon.”

“I know.” Alex nodded.

The stench of blood had grown thick—almost suffocating.

Unless the Professional officers were anosmic, they would already be forced from slumber by the irony scent.

“Enemy attack! Wake up! Enemy attack!”

Right on cue, shouts burst across the camp as the camp’s officers and elite troops jolted awake.

“Let’s move,” Alex ordered, eyes sharpening as the first wave of real resistance surged awake.

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