Bound To The Ruthless Lycan

Chapter 18 : The Trap in the Dark Valley

"Close ranks! Shields up front, move!"

Damon's voice echoed amidst the sudden downpour pouring from the sky. Thick fog rolled down, filling the base of the Western Outpost Valley, reducing visibility drastically to just a few paces in front of them.

Hundreds of flaming arrows rained down from atop the cliffs, striking the wolf army's front ranks. Screams of agony from the warriors broke out, mingling with the crack of thunder in the air.

"Your Majesty! Something is wrong with our bodies!" shouted a warrior in the front line, dropping to his knees.

Damon looked back quickly. He saw dozens of his warriors groaning in pain, clutching their chests. Their skin, which had begun sprouting wolf fur, suddenly reverted back to normal by force. The veins in their necks turned black.

"What's happening to you? Why aren't you shifting?" Damon barked, parrying an arrow flying toward him.

"Magic stones! They threw magic stones onto the ground!" the warrior shrieked, pointing toward the bushes.

Upon the mud-slicked ground, dozens of dark blue stones were embedded in the earth. The stones radiated waves of blue light that suppressed the natural energy of the wolf warriors, halting their transformation process entirely.

From the fog ahead, hundreds of Logan's mercenaries rushed out, swinging swords and heavy spears.

"Attack! They can't shift! Slaughter them all!" screamed the enemy commander from afar.

Physical collision was unavoidable. Damon's front line was pushed back heavily. Deprived of their wolf form's physical strength, the warriors were forced to fight using ordinary human bodies against mercenaries clad in heavy armor.

"Commander Boris! Hold the left sector!" Damon commanded loudly.

But before the order could be fully spoken, a long spear plunged through Commander Boris's chest. Damon's trusted officer collapsed onto the muddy ground, his eyes wide in shock. Fresh blood gushed from his chest, mingling with the rainwater.

"Commander Boris has fallen! The commander is dead!" shrieks echoed from the left sector in sheer panic.

Panic instantly seized the entire vanguard. Commander Boris's death shattered the left sector's defenses instantly. Dozens of warriors began retreating, dropping their shields in terror.

"Don't retreat! Hold your positions!" shouted a young captain, but his voice was drowned out by the approaching enemy's roars.

Damon lunged forward, cleaving the necks of two enemies at once with his broadsword. Blood spattered across his face, his eyes red with surging rage. Standing over Commander Boris's corpse, he held off the enemy wave single-handedly.

"Hold the line! Anyone who retreats will face my sword!" Damon growled in a thunderous roar that halted the fleeing warriors in their tracks.

The warriors froze, watching their King fight alone at the most perilous line. Re-arming themselves, they attempted to withstand the enemy's onslaught even as their bodies trembled violently.

However, the enemy read the situation rapidly. Logan's mercenaries deliberately concentrated their assault on the center of the battlefield, pushing forward to sever the communication line between the front and rear ranks.

"Damon!" Sera shouted from the rear.

From behind the medical wagon's window, Sera watched as the enemy forces successfully established a stronghold in the middle of the valley. The wolf army's chain of defense was severed into two isolated halves. Damon was cut off at the vanguard alongside a hundred warriors, surrounded by hundreds of mercenaries from all sides.

Meanwhile, in the rear guard where the medical and supply wagons were positioned, conditions were no less chaotic. Enemy archers began setting the wooden wagons ablaze with flaming arrows.

"Retreat! We must fall back to the mountain pass!" shouted the captain in charge of the rear guard, spinning his horse in panic.

"Don't retreat!" Sera screamed, leaping out of the medical wagon.

Sera sprinted through the rain and mud, confronting the rear guard captain who was preparing to flee.

"If we retreat now, the front line where Damon is fighting will be flanked from behind and slaughtered completely!" Sera asserted firmly, grabbing the reins of the captain's horse.

"Lady Sera, this place is no longer safe!" the captain made excuses, his face deathly pale. "The enemy's magic stones leave our warriors unable to fight! Commander Boris is dead! We have no leader here!"

Sera shoved the reins aside roughly. Her eyes locked onto the captain with fierce, emotional intensity.

"If there is no leader here, then I will lead you!" Sera declared loudly.

Sera reached into her leather bag, grabbing two vials of neutralizing Wolfsbane oil. She tossed the bottles to two guard warriors standing frozen near the wagon.

"Rub this purple liquid onto your necks and chests right now!" Sera ordered.

The two warriors obeyed without hesitation. The moment the purple liquid touched their skin, the chilling suppression of the enemy's magic stones evaporated. Their physical strength returned instantly.

"Our strength... our strength has returned!" exclaimed one of the warriors, his eyes wide in shock.

Sera wasted no time. She ran toward the rear command wagon carrying the war banners and signaling gear. With agile movements, Sera scrambled up the wagon's wheel and leaped onto the wooden roof of the command wagon.

She stood tall atop the wagon roof amidst the pouring rain and howling night wind. Her black mantle was soaked through, yet her position made her clearly visible to all the warriors in the rear guard.

Sera grabbed a war horn from the hand of a fallen warrior on the roof, blowing into it with one long, resonant blast.

The horn's blast pierced the chaos of battle in the rear guard. Hundreds of panicking, scattered warriors halted, turning toward the command wagon's roof.

"All rear guard warriors, hear my command!" Sera shouted in a ringing, commanding voice.

The warriors gaped at the sight of the young woman standing poised and resolute atop the wagon roof amidst the blazing enemy arrows.

"Archers, scale the supply crates! Direct your arrows toward the right cliff to suppress enemy archers!" Sera ordered, pointing toward the hillside. "Shieldmen, form a perimeter around the medical wagons! Protect the medics and the wounded!"

"But Lady Sera, what about the enemy coming through the center pass?" asked an archer sergeant from below.

"Bring me the vials of purple oil inside the medical wagon!" Sera replied quickly. "Distribute the liquid to all spearmen! Coat your weapons and armor! That liquid will shatter the effects of the enemy's magic stones!"

The clear, decisive orders instantly checked the mass panic. Sera's calm presence atop the roof injected a fresh surge of courage into the lost warriors.

"Execute Lady Sera's orders right now! Move!" yelled the rear guard captain, finally snapping out of his terror.

The warriors acted swiftly according to her instructions. Archers took their positions atop wooden crates, raining counter-fire toward the cliffs. Shieldmen formed a tight ring around the medical wagons, repelling the advancing mercenaries. Within minutes, the scattered rear guard transformed into an impenetrable fortress of defense.

Damon, fighting fiercely at the front, glanced back upon hearing the war horn's blast. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Sera standing atop the command wagon, leading the rear guard with astonishing calm and tactical brilliance.

Emotion and pride surged in Damon's chest. The defense Sera raised in the rear prevented the enemy from encircling his forces completely from behind.

Yet atop a high stone cliff on the western side of the valley, a broad-shouldered man stood watching the entire battle below. The man wore black iron armor with a blood-soaked cloak billowing in the wind. His face was covered in ancient burn scars.

He was General Valerius.

Valerius narrowed his eyes, observing how the wolf army's rear guard—which should have been annihilated—suddenly rallied under the command of a woman atop a wagon.

Valerius studied the woman's face from afar under the flickering torchlight. A sinister sneer spread across his scarred face.

"So the little girl from the family I slaughtered five years ago is still alive," Valerius whispered in a raspy, venomous voice. "And she's playing hero tonight."

Valerius extended his right hand behind him. "Bring me my heavy bow."

An underling quickly handed him a massive iron warbow. Valerius drew a specialized arrow from his quiver. The arrow was forged from pure silver, its tip slicked with a blackish liquid neurotoxin.

Valerius drew his heavy bow to maximum tension, aiming the tip of the silver arrow directly toward the base of the cliff.

His sight locked precisely onto Sera's back as she stood facing away atop the command wagon's roof.

"Die along with your family's memories, Seraphine," Valerius murmured coldly, slowly releasing his fingers from the bowstring.