Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage - Chapter 400

Chapter 400: Barnsil Militia Massacre II
CH400 Barnsil Militia Massacre II

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“Enemy attack!”

“Wake up—enemy attack!”

The shouts echoed from the centre of the camp as the Professional officers jolted the militia awake, dragging the camp into frantic motion.

A Silver-ranked man—his body outlined by a faint, weak silvery aura—sprinted toward the signal bell to raise the alarm. But the moment he reached it, his face drained of colour.

The bell had been sabotaged.

The rope had been cut. Even the striker was missing.

He had no way to warn the fortress.

He cursed under his breath and raced back toward the only pocket of organised resistance left—the cluster of survivors forming a defensive line around the camp’s centre, near a drill field.

At the head of that line stood a broad-shouldered man, barking orders like a drillmaster.

“Form up! Quickly!”

“Hold the line—brace for attack!”

“We push them back from here!”

A brilliant golden aura wrapped around him like a blazing torch in the darkness.

The Gold ranked, commander of the Barnsil militia.

Captain Kunut.

Around him, were the surviving Silver-ranked officers who aided command of the militia into formation.

“Captain! The bell is ruined—they sabotaged it!” the earlier runner reported, breathless. “We can’t call for reinforcements from the fortress!”

“What!?” Captain Kunut spat and unleashed several colourful curses.

He swung toward his deputy commander, another Silver-ranked officer.

“Do we know who or how many they are?” Kunut demanded.

“They’re still unidentified, Captain,” the deputy answered. “But… they don’t seem to have many numbers.”

Kunut clicked his tongue.

The information didn’t make him feel any better.

His militia had been two hundred strong at dusk.

Now—judging by the men clustered around him—that number had plummeted to barely seventy.

Scores had been butchered in their sleep.

Others were being hunted down even now.

Whoever invaded the camp had cut off isolated pockets of militia, cutting them down before they could regroup.

Every few seconds, another scream tore through the night.

And with each cry, Captain Kunut felt his remaining numbers shrink further.

Soon, as the militia struggled to form a plan—cut off from the only exit out of the camp—the cries scattered around the grounds finally fell silent.

The attackers had finished.

Everyone who failed to hide from those unseen fiends… was dead.

And then, across the open lawn opposite the militia’s defensive line, figures emerged from the darkness.

A small group.

Just over a score in number.

Captain Kunut frowned deeply.

‘Only about twenty…?’

His remaining seventy militia outnumbered them more than three-to-one, yet the fact this tiny force had slaughtered over a hundred men within minutes filled him with dread. These were not ordinary assailants.

Not by a long shot.

Then one of the strangers stepped forward.

A cloaked man.

Even in the shadowed night, his eyes glimmered—clear, red, eerily calm. Innocent in appearance, yet cold enough to freeze one’s marrow.

He wore strange attire—a hooded robe beneath a muted chestplate, matching bracers, but no visible weapon. But something about him pulled all attention toward him alone.

“You must be the captain of this militia,” the man—Alex—said, looking directly at Kunut.

“Who are you? Why attack us!?” Captain Kunut bellowed.

“I am someone whose path your camp is blocking,” Alex replied. “If you surrender now and allow yourselves to be bound, you will save your lives. Think about it.”

“Screw you!”

“We’ll never surrender!”

Before Captain Kunut could speak, angry voices erupted behind him—soldiers hurling curses, shouting threats, spitting profanities at Alex and his group.

“We outnumber you three-to-one! Do you really think we’d surrender!?” Captain Kunut barked.

Alex’s voice remained cool, emotionless.

“A few minutes ago, you outnumbered us ten-to-one.”

A tick formed on the captain’s forehead.

“Die!” he roared.

In that instant, a Silver-ranked archer on the militia’s rear line raised his bow, notched an arrow, and fired straight toward Alex.

Bang!

Kavakan blurred forward, stepping in front of Alex as his twin axes flashed. A single clean stroke sheared the arrow mid-flight.

“Fall back, Boss!” he barked.

Protected by Kavakan’s broad back, Alex retreated swiftly to the rest of the expedition team. Together, they withdrew deeper into the maze of camp buildings.

“They’re retreating! Don’t let them escape!”

“Attack!”

The militia surged after them, confidence swelling now that they knew they had numbers on their side. Plus, they saw no coloured aura around the attackers.

‘They don’t have Aura. They are likely just ordinary men…’ or so they thought.

Only after they committed to the chase did someone notice the faint silver glow around Kron Belloc.

“There! That one is Silver rank!”

“He must be their leader!”

Their focus shifted instantly. Rather than targeting Alex, the bulk of the militia veered toward Kron, believing him to be the true threat.

“Split up,” Alex ordered calmly over comms.

Once more, the expedition force scattered into four teams, forcing the militia to fracture their formation as well. In an instant, the chaotic battle devolved into a deadly game of cat and mouse through the camp’s narrow paths.

High above, Senu circled, feeding Alex a steady stream of aerial intel.

With that advantage, Alex guided every movement—directing each team through twists, turns and concealed paths, luring their pursuers step by step into carefully woven ambush killzones.

One team would break contact and vanish into the night, looping silently around the camp… only to wait in hiding. Moments later, another team—with its chasers on their heels—would race past that position.

Ambush.

A flanking strike from the shadows.

Half a dozen militia dead in seconds.

Then this pattern repeated again… and again.

Three ambush cycles later, the militia numbers had been carved down to roughly forty. The expedition, though still outnumbered, now faced odds close to two-to-one—well within their comfort zone.

Meanwhile, Kavakan, Mogal, Havel and even Kron Belloc served as the bait unit, drawing Captain Kunut and the remaining four Silver-ranked officers far away from the main battlefield.

With the leadership detached, Alex finally ordered the regroup.

The expedition members converged on the open drill field as the remaining militia stumbled toward them in a broken, desperate mass.

The real battle was about to begin.

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