Chapter 108: The Black-Bellied Nelson

Nelson gazed from a distant hill, watching the dark hordes of monsters surge into the hill camp like a tidal wave, filling him with shock and rage.

The closer he got to the hill camp, the denser the half-man, half-ant monsters became. Nelson inevitably ran into several groups. At first, he was ready to fight, but these ant-men seemed uninterested in him, only pressing on towards the hill camp. Thus, Nelson, puzzled, alone climbed the nearest hill to the camp.

Yet the sight before him filled him with fury: countless monsters had already overrun the hill camp.

The hill camp held special meaning for Nelson. Mercenary life brimmed with danger and the agony of farewells and reunions, but what tormented mercenaries most was the absence of belonging. When employers required them, they treated them as honored guests; once the mission ended, they viewed them as plagues. The Warbear mercenaries had grown accustomed to battle and sacrifice but were weary of constant wandering. The hill camp was their home.

Nelson had witnessed the hill camp's transformation firsthand, from a rudimentary camp to a beautiful village. Pride and affection swelled his heart.

Now, these hideous beasts had not only destroyed his home but left his lord's fate unknown! Hatred and self-reproach kindled Nelson's blazing rage, wanting to leap down and cleave all these monsters apart with his double axes.

As a seasoned warrior, Nelson understood this would be suicide. No one could assault ten thousand monsters and escape unscathed, especially since these monsters feared no death.

Not fleeing was not Nelson's style. These half-man, half-ant monsters were unknown to him. He would probe their abilities and traits regardless, and kill a few to vent his anger.

With his mind made up, Nelson acted. He rode his swift bird down from the hill, found a concealed thicket, and tethered the swift bird to a branch. Nelson was valiant but cautious; arranging his escape route first was fundamental tactical wisdom before attacking.

Nelson slung his heavy war-axe across his back and drew two finely wrought short spears from his backpack, then crouched behind a thicket of dense bushes, awaiting the opportune moment.

Nelson had noted that the ant-men traveled in groups, each containing over three hundred or up to five hundred, most clustered together, occasionally breaking away. He waited for a straggling group to enter his attack range, then used javelins to draw them in and kill a few before retreating.

A group of ant-men appeared in Nelson's sight, straying from the path, the nearest group hundreds of meters away. Evidently, these monsters lacked patience for line formation; they sought shortcuts.

With a bellow, Nelson exploded from the bushes like a cannonball, charging forward amid shattered branches. His iron-hard muscles stood out, his right arm swung with force, and in mere seconds, seven sharp, heavy javelins flew forth.

Each over a meter long, forged from fine iron, weighing forty kilos apiece. Propelled by Nelson's monstrous strength, they whistled through the air and struck the group hundreds of meters distant.

The dense ant swarm required no aim; the javelins, laden with lethal momentum, pierced their bodies. Seven found their marks, some even transfixing two ant-men, pinning them to the earth.

Taken by surprise, the ant-men surged with excitement. They swiftly pinpointed the attack, shrieking as they rushed Nelson.

Nelson's eyes narrowed; he brandished two war axes, readying for close combat. Though Lilya had informed him that ant-men were combative and unafraid of death, witnessing these monstrous creatures like a disturbed hornet's nest charging at him made Nelson's heart skip.

Nelson wouldn't turn and flee; he had to expel the fury in his chest by felling several monsters with the axe. Concurrently, he had complete confidence in himself, having observed the ant-men for some time. These creatures were unarmed, their speed respectable but insufficient to overtake him. Killing a few before escaping was still feasible.

The ant-men charged swiftly, the three hundred meters covered in just over twenty seconds. As the ant-men drew near, a bloodlust gleamed in Nelson's eyes. His axes crossed in a downward slash; the axe light cleaved, severing the first three ant-men at the chest.

Without hesitation, Nelson unleashed a savage kick, propelling the ant-man's body backward, sending the trailing ones sprawling. Nelson roared once more, charging into the swarm, his war axe sweeping and thrusting, unleashing a tempest of blood and stench.

As a mercenary forged in battle, Nelson lacked formal martial training. His assaults were straightforward, direct, brutal, and lethal, yet charged with immense momentum. Mercenaries who survived by rolling through life's trials understood that in dire straits, courage prevails. Only by fighting to the death could one unleash extraordinary power, making opponents' hearts and spirits shatter and resist no more.

Nelson's aura was as ferocious as a tiger's. Against ordinary human warriors, one against many was not impossible, but now he confronted ant-men, beings devoid of individual consciousness or emotional life. Ant-men lived for combat; they would not falter at a comrade's demise. Facing superior foes, they would only become more excited, an innate instinct.

Each time Nelson slew an ant-man, the corpse exuded a pheromone that drew others' attention and heightened their combat zeal. The more ant-men perished, the more potent the pheromone; more agitated the ants. Moreover, Nelson inevitably absorbed this pheromone, like being branded. Any who spotted him would assail him.

The excited ant swarm relentlessly poured towards Nelson. In mere seconds, Nelson's fighting space grew even more constricted, a stark contrast to his prior experience. When an ant-man leaped from his comrade's back, Nelson realized he must break free.

Nelson swung his axe to repel the ant-man lunging down, but others stepped on their kin's backs and assaulted him. From a distance, it resembled a colossal black wave poised to engulf Nelson.

Nelson's gaze hardened; his robust heart thumped fiercely several times, veins bulging on his muscular frame, body spinning at high speed. The mournful axe light swirled around him, generating an unstoppable whirlwind of axe blades. Dozens of ant-men were hacked to shreds, limbs and arms mingled with green blood flung outward, like a blooming flower of death.

Seizing the moment as the surrounding ant-men were cleared away, Nelson retreated swiftly backward, then turned and sprinted wildly towards the swift bird.

With these dozens of ant-men ruthlessly slain, the potent pheromone spread, agitating the outer groups. They shrieked, pursuing Nelson.

Originally, attracted by the pheromone, numerous ant-men had amassed at the hill camp. The more gathered, the more packed the small hill camp became. Yet no enemies were found here, perplexing the ant commander. Unlike mindless soldier ants, the commander ant-men possessed some intelligence. Periodically, they depleted the aging soldiers in the clan and, by slaying enemies, absorbed special power to return to the matriarchal queen, allowing her to produce new offspring. Only thus could the queen mother lay new young. Now, a mobile information source had drawn the commander ant-men's notice. Simple wisdom revealed this was the enemy they had been seeking so desperately. Thus, countless ant-men set out in pursuit of Nelson under the commander's direction.

Nelson rode the swift bird, swiftly fleeing eastward, oblivious to the ant-men’s turmoil. In the hilly region, the swift bird thrived like a fish in water, quickly distancing itself from the pursuing ants. Nelson exhaled, dismounted, but staggered, the exhaustion making him dizzy. This was the aftermath of barely exerting the war skill.

“What the devil are these monsters?” Nelson cursed, still shaken.

The earlier probe had nearly doomed him. Desperate, he resorted to the knight's war skill: whirlwind slash. This skill was a prize seized from that ill-fated knight. Though Nelson was a formidable savage warrior, employing the knight's war skill was still a stretch. Unlike the knight's elemental forces, he had to leverage raw physical power to propel this devastating whirlwind slash, imposing a heavy toll on the body. Now, Nelson felt his bones groaning, muscles convulsing, unable to muster any strength.

Nelson lay on the ground, panting heavily, to regain some vitality swiftly and allow the swift bird to recover too. Shortly, the ground's vibration jolted him up. The monsters had arrived. He mounted the swift bird once more and resumed fleeing.

Run, stop, run, stop, Nelson finally realized he couldn't shed the ant-men, nor could they catch him. The issue was he and the swift bird couldn't run indefinitely; they'd tire. Nelson circled the ant group while pondering a solution.

Unbeknownst to him, Nelson rode the swift bird to the Black River. He led the swift bird to the bank for several drinks of water, washed his face, observing the river flow southward, gradually forming an idea.

“The hill camp is finished! You won't fare well either!” Nelson angrily mounted the swift bird and rode north along the riverbank. In that direction, 5 kilometers away lay Pinghu Village.

Upon arriving at Pinghu Village, the watchtower had spotted him early. Byer, with several trusted aides, ascended the battle platform, staring grimly at the approaching Nelson. For this renowned Northern Bear, Byer did not take him lightly; the palisades of Pinghu Village could not withstand this warrior akin to a knight.

“Captain! Why is Nelson racing here alone? Does he think he can seize our Pinghu Village by himself?” Mark queried Byer, perplexed and indignant.

“It's likely to proclaim some lord's decree,” Byer said coldly, not believing Nelson's arrogance to that extent.

Nelson neared Pinghu Village and found the drawbridge raised, crossbows aimed at him. Evidently, Byer and his men regarded him as an enemy. Nelson's gaze grew icy, laced with mockery.

“Byer! If you wish to live, flee at once! Monsters are coming!” Nelson reined in outside the crossbow range and shouted towards Pinghu Village.

Afterward, Nelson turned in another direction, riding the swift bird swiftly up a hill, quickly vanishing from Byer's sight.

Byer and Mark exchanged glances, their actions confusing them.

“Is the Northern Bear out of his mind!” Mark exclaimed loudly.

“Using a few ferocious wolves unfit for sieges to force my submission? Truly laughable!” Byer sneered with contempt. “Wolf troubles in the territory aren't new. Now those ferocious wolves have migrated north to nest; what threat could they pose to us?”

“Go!” Byer ordered his men. The words had barely left his mouth when the ground trembled, his expression shifting.

“Captain! Monsters!” the lookout on the arrow tower cried out hysterically.

Byer and Mark stared ahead fixedly. A black wave surged towards them, accompanied by terrifying shrieks, the earth quaking beneath.

“Indeed monsters!” Mark's face paled, murmuring.

———————

DeWitt watched Nelson on the arrow tower atop the swift bird, brows furrowed. The family mined silver here and indeed cultivated purple cane, yet also supplied grain to Baron Victor. This understanding was shared by all; Nelson, though of low birth, was a high-ranking figure in the baron's domain, how could he unknowingly appear here?

“Believe it or not! A horde of monsters has invaded the territory. If you wish to survive, flee immediately! I'll inform Baron Chiveman at once!” Nelson roared, then turned the swift bird and galloped towards Baron Chiveman's domain.

“This boy has gone mad!” Bernard said, dumbfounded.

“He rides that large bird, which seems quite fine. Try to obtain a few; the baron will be delighted.” DeWitt patted Bernard on the shoulder.

Nelson galloped away, racing straight towards Baron Chiveman's territory.

Stop digging our silver mines! And stop stealing our purple cane! Just hand the monsters over to you!