Warrior Training System - Chapter 455

Chapter 455: March of the Confused Cultists
As Cassian and roughly fifty others gathered outside the cult camp, Brigid stood at the center beside him. They were still waiting for a few more—the slaves Cassian had won, plus the people Brigid had convinced to join her for… whatever this mysterious assignment was.

Cassian glanced over at her. “Did you say goodbye to your grandma?”

Brigid nodded, eyes scanning the crowd as people chatted among themselves about the mission—still a big secret, even now. “Surprised you didn’t come along,” she said.

“Well, things have been a little weird since the day I fucked her in that praying room,” Cassian admitted, then leaned slightly closer as he listened to bits of conversation drifting through the crowd. His curiosity was clearly growing. “You could at least tell me now where we’re going, right? Or what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Brigid shot him an annoyed look, but after a moment of thought she nodded, guided her horse toward the center of the gathered group, and raised her voice.

“Looks like everyone who’s supposed to be here is here,” she announced. “And judging by your faces, you’re all dying to know what our next mission is.”

Dozens of heads nodded at once.

Brigid’s horse paced slowly, her gaze sweeping over the people she’d be leading for the next stretch.

“Well,” she said, “for now, our mission is simple: reach our cult’s base near the Magic Empire. Safely. If we make it there in one piece, we’ll learn the rest afterward.”

She ended it there. A few people kept staring at her, clearly expecting more—but she didn’t offer anything else. No details, no reassurances, not even the option to stay behind.

With a small shrug, she rode back out of the center. “Alright then. Let’s move. And hopefully, when we arrive… then we’ll get the full story.”

Everyone exchanged looks after Brigid’s very unsatisfying explanation, but nobody dared complain. One by one, they nudged their horses into motion, following her like a mildly confused parade that wasn’t sure if it was heading to a festival or a funeral.

Cassian’s horse fell into line, and a moment later Kirja guided hers up beside him. She leaned over slightly, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

“So… our grand mission is basically ‘walk in a straight line and don’t die.’ Inspiring,” she said dryly. “Truly the stuff legends are made of.”

Cassian snorted. “What, were you expecting a dramatic speech? Flames, lightning, cult banners waving in slow motion?”

Kirja raised a brow. “At least a map. Or, you know… the slightest hint we’re not being marched off to become some monster’s lunch.”

Cassian smirked. “Relax. Nothing like that. Just… when we get back to actual civilization—” He paused, suddenly wondering if he’d said something offensive. When Kirja didn’t react, he continued, “—just keep the cult habits under control. And don’t go throwing the name around. We are technically at war with them, y’know. Just reminding you.”

“I’m not stupid, Cassian. I know that much,” Kirja scoffed.

Cassian flashed her a brief grin. “Good. ‘Cause I won’t be with you for the first few days of travel, so try not to get into trouble.”

He nudged his horse forward before she could pepper him with more questions.

Brigid, noticing him approaching, raised a brow. “And when exactly are you heading out?”

Cassian gave her a slow, hungry grin. “Not before I get what you owe me…”

Brigid’s expression tightened—every sentence out of his mouth seemed to annoy her more than the last. She didn’t even bother replying, which made Cassian chuckle.

“Relax. I’m not doing anything until we’re out of the cult’s sight. Don’t want them getting suspicious and sending someone to tail me. But after that?” He tapped his reins lightly. “I’ll be coming back.”

“Why?” Brigid asked, brows pulling together.

“Why not?” Cassian shrugged. “I can play spy—pick up whatever dirt I can on the cult, pass it along… and enjoy the bonus of getting to pound that big ass of yours whenever I drop by.”

Brigid’s jaw tightened, her glare sharp enough to knock him off his horse. “And what exactly am I supposed to tell them when you disappear?” she snapped. “A First-Circle warrior running off already draws attention. Add the fact that half these people are your slaves, and everyone’s going to start asking questions.”

“I’ll just order them not to,” Cassian said calmly. “After me, they’ll listen only to you anyway. Just worry about the others.”

The slave mark he held over them made it easy—he could forbid questions, overwrite certain memories, even shift them around if he wanted. They’d never notice. And while those changes could be undone with strong enough magic, a breakthrough to a higher Circle, or pure force of will… that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Then where will you meet us again?” Brigid asked with a tired sigh, already knowing Cassian wouldn’t listen to anything she said anyway.

“You’re all heading near Magisteria City, right? I’ll meet you around there,” Cassian replied. “How long do you think it’ll take you to reach that area?”

“Can’t take the straight roads, so… about a month, give or take,” she said.

Cassian nodded. A month was plenty of time—enough to tie up loose ends, handle what he needed to, and prepare himself for slipping back into the cult as their very enthusiastic “spy.”

Cassian tapped his fingers on the saddle, thinking it through. “A month, huh? Plenty of time for me to play tourist.”

Brigid rolled her eyes. “Tourist in a warzone. Fantastic.”

“Hey, better than rotting here,” Cassian said with a shrug. “At least I get to swing by Magisteria, grab some drinks, hit the nightlife a bit. Everything here’s crap—except the pussies, I’ll give the jungle that much. They’re about the only thing that comes close to what I had back in Magisteria.”

Brigid’s eyebrow twitched so hard it looked like it might fly off her face.

“So you’re calling us shite now?” she asked, voice sharp enough to cut armor. “And comparing me and my grandmother to bar girls in Magisteria? Really?”

Cassian actually looked offended for a moment. “Hey, this precious thing—if it’s not staying in my pants, then it only goes in quality holes. Not some random bar girls.”

He paused, grin turning downright filthy.

“Though I’m not saying they’re bad…”