CHAPTER 146: CHAPTER 145: NO MERCY, NO ESCAPE

As clarity returned, Lumberling steadied his breath, his hand still pressed against the faint warmth near his heart.

’So this is how it works...’

He had devoured not just the mage’s essence, but his element. Fire.

It settled inside him like a second pulse, flickering low in his chest. Just like skills, he could claim an element by consuming its source. But unlike a skill or a memory, an element wasn’t something one could simply train. You were born with it. Awakened it. Or in rare cases, given to you through extraordinary means.

He looked down at his palm and curled his fingers.

Fire Element...

But he couldn’t wield it, not yet. Without entering the Concordant State, any attempt to channel elemental magic could rupture his channels and burn him from the inside out. That’s why the Concordia Cycle is essential, he reminded himself. No shortcuts, no recklessness.

With effort, he suppressed the heat inside him, wrapping it in stillness. He shelved the temptation and turned his attention back to the battlefield.

The fight wasn’t over.

His gaze swept across the field and stopped on Thessalia.

She stood some distance away, her eyes locked on a fleeing mage, bowstring drawn taut with a glowing arrow ready to pierce his spine.

But the mage was still alive.

’Perfect.’

Without hesitation, he sprinted toward them.

Thessalia noticed his approach but didn’t say a word. Her bow was already drawn, shimmering with subtle power.

The mage noticed too late, summoning jagged stone spikes from the ground in a desperate defense. Thessalia leapt aside, loosing an arrow that shattered one of the conjured pillars.

Lumberling closed the gap in seconds, weaving between rising walls of stone, his spear poised.

Together, they pressed the assault, her arrows pinning the mage’s movements, while he struck from the flanks with clean, precise thrusts.

The mage never stood a chance.

One final arrow distracted him, then Lumberling lunged in and drove his spear straight through the mage’s heart.

Thessalia blinked. Her arrow thunked harmlessly into the dirt.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Lumberling gave her a lopsided grin and a wink, brushing his bloodied spear across his shoulder like it was nothing.

If this had been months ago, her arrows would already be hovering at his throat.

But now, she only rolled her eyes and looked away.

Their bond had shifted.

A small victory in itself.

.....

As the mage’s body crumpled, his essence surged into Lumberling like a wave of molten clarity.

(You have devoured the Mage’s essence. 1,500 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Mage’s memories and experience.)

(You have gained the element: Earth Element Lv.0 (1/1000))

Another pulse thrummed inside him, solid and ancient, like tectonic plates grinding beneath his ribs. He felt like his breathe hitch, lungs pressing against a weight that wasn’t entirely his own.

Lumberling exhaled sharply. A second element.

Two elements. That alone placed him among the rare few.

Even Aurelya and Thessalia, elites among elves’ mages only ever displayed two. Perhaps they concealed more, but regardless, dual affinity wasn’t common.

He smiled, lips curling with the same satisfaction as a hunter finding a rare beast. Two mages, both from Magic Circle Four, both devoured. And both without much effort, thanks to the elves keeping them distracted.

’What a haul.’

Greedy for more, his gaze swept the battlefield in search of Aurelya’s opponent. But it was already over, her rapier hung low, blood dripping, the Knight’s head rolling somewhere by her feet.

’A shame.’

Even then, plenty remained.

The elves were ruthless, their advance surgical. But before the final soldiers could fall, Lumberling charged ahead, hunger flaring in his chest.

Spears pierced unguarded backs.

Essence flowed into him like a river of stolen life.

A soldier turned too slow and met his gaze for half a second before being skewered. Another raised his shield, only for it to be shattered by the force of Lumberling’s strike. He stepped forward, devouring, moving like death in armor.

One by one, they fell.

Yet he wasn’t alone.

To his right, Krivex drew his bow, shooting arrows with unerring precision. Each shaft found its mark, a throat, a knee, a visor slit. His movements were sharp, almost impatient, as if annoyed the soldiers were still standing.

A group of three tried to flank him from the side.

Big mistake.

Krivex leapt onto a broken cart, gaining the high ground, and loosed three arrows in a blink, one for each heart. All three collapsed before they even knew what hit them.

Aren waded through the chaos like a silent reaper. Spear in hand, he moved with clean, practiced strikes. One soldier lunged, only to be swept off his feet by a leg sweep, then impaled through the chest before hitting the ground. Another charged at him with a shout, Aren sidestepped, pivoted, and drove the butt of his spear into the man’s jaw, snapping it with a sickening crunch.

Gobo1 and Gobo2 fought side by side, a blur of chaotic teamwork. Gobo1 ducked under a sword slash, kicked the attacker’s shin, and jabbed a dagger into the exposed armpit. Gobo2 followed with a shield strike that shattered the soldier’s helmet like a melon. They laughed as they moved, darting between legs and armor, dealing death with goblin glee.

Takkar, roared as he barreled through two spearmen. His axe swung in wide arcs, splitting shields and bones alike. A Sengolio officer barked orders and raised his sword, Takkar responded by closing the gap in three strides and cleaving the man in half, torso from waist.

On the left flank, Skarn fought with controlled fury. His twin axe danced, one feinting, the other slicing deep. He moved like a wolf among sheep, tearing through steel and mail, uncaring of blood on his face.

And Vakk.silent, but devastating, slid behind enemy lines. One axe to the spine. Another to the kidney.

Lumberling paused only briefly to take it all in. His warband was thriving. Alive. Efficient. Deadly.

He surged forward once more, a spear in each hand now, tearing through another cluster of soldiers who had turned their backs to face the elves.

Mistake.

Lumberling lunged, impaling one through the ribs, twisting, and using the corpse as a shield against another’s blade. He ducked, spun, kicked out a knee, and brought both spears down like falling towers. Blood sprayed in wide arcs. His armor dripped with it.

Essence flooded him. Faint memories, lives, regrets, battle cries, flickered across his mind and vanished.

Relentless, he pressed forward.

"Push through!" Takkar roared, parrying a sword and slamming his elbow into the man’s temple.

"Let none escape!" Vakk followed, severing the legs of a retreating archer.

The field was chaos, but coordinated chaos, an orchestra of blades and teeth, steel and spellfire.

Lumberling wove through it all, his eyes aglow with devouring hunger.

The Viscount’s army crumbled. Thousands became hundreds, and hundreds became corpses. The ground soaked with blood. Screams turned to silence.

Lumberling fought, methodical, deliberate, inexorable.

A force of nature in pure black armor.

Suddenly, a wedge of soldiers rallied and charged, roaring their defiance as if determined to drag their enemies into the grave with them.

Until the earth cracked beneath their boots.

A new figure surged into the fray, Grokk. Towering and broad-shouldered, his twin axe swung like falling comets, each strike shattering armor and bone alike. He didn’t fight with finesse, he fought with overwhelming weight. A Sengolio Knight charged him with a spear, but Grokk caught it mid-thrust with one axe, snapped the shaft with the other, then brought both down on the man’s chest with a sound like splitting timber.

"Outta my way!" he bellowed, voice booming over the clash of steel.

Two more soldiers rushed him from the flanks. Grokk stomped forward, slamming an axe into the earth. The shockwave knocked them off their feet, and the next moment he was upon them, one crushed beneath his heel, the other reduced to pulp with a single overhead swing.

Above them, Shade descended.

A monstrous spider, the size of a cart. His fangs glistened black with venom, legs clicking as he landed silently behind a fleeing battalion. Before they could turn, webbing shot out, thick, silvery cords latching onto armor, limbs, and throats.

Screams followed, but they were brief.

Shade moved with terrifying grace, darting between victims, slicing with razor-sharp legs. He didn’t devour them. He immobilized, maimed, then let Grokk finish the job.

The two moved together like a dark ritual, Grokk smashing the frontline, Shade lurking just beyond, picking off the stragglers like a living shadow. One fought with fury, the other with precision. And between them, nothing survived.

Lumberling spotted them through the carnage.

Grokk caught his eye and gave a savage grin, axe resting across his shoulder. "Let’s see who had the highest kill, my Lord," he shouted over the din.

Lumberling smirked and offered a nod in return. "Try not to steal all my kills."

Shade didn’t speak, but the gleam in his multiple eyes flashed toward him for a heartbeat, then returned to his prey.

Together, the warband pressed on, a relentless tide of death.