Chapter 68.2: The Bloodhounds and the Lonely Woods Forest: Pyrrhic Victory
Year 0003, IV-VII Month: The Imperium
---
Poisoned
August's heart raced as he watched Uncle Red collapse, the older man's face already growing pale from whatever toxin now coursed through his veins. The grizzled hunter who had survived countless battles was now reduced to gasping breaths, his weathered hands trembling as he tried to steady himself against a nearby tree.
The elderly bloodhound assassin, observing their panic with obvious satisfaction, chose that moment to reveal his hand. His voice carried the casual cruelty of someone accustomed to holding lives in the balance. "Brave little man," he said, his words dripping with mock sympathy, "your friend there will die within the hour if he's not given the antidote." The lie rolled off his tongue as easily as breathing—a practiced deception designed to create desperation and compliance. "We happen to have exactly what he needs, and you have something we require. We can either settle this matter the bloody way, or we can take the easy path. The choice, as they say, is entirely yours."
He paused deliberately, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before a sinister smile crept across his weathered features like a crack in old parchment. "Time is ticking away, drop by drop, so don't keep me waiting too long. These old bones of mine grow impatient in my twilight years." His laughter echoed through the forest with genuine amusement, as if the suffering of others was the finest entertainment he could imagine.
August, maintaining his composure despite the churning anxiety in his stomach, had already reached out through their mental link to alert his master, who soared high above the skies with his mate. The situation on the ground had deteriorated rapidly, and they were now effectively down one capable fighter.
"Master," August's mental voice carried urgent concern, "can Uncle Red be healed from this injury?"
Aetherwing's keen eyes had witnessed the entire exchange from his aerial vantage point. His ancient wisdom immediately identified the type of poison used—a particularly insidious blend designed to react slowly, giving enemies precious time to extract information while providing false hope for salvation through an antidote.
"Yes, fortunately we find ourselves in one of the great forests," Aetherwing's response came swiftly, tinged with both relief and urgency. "Theresa should have already secured a substantial collection of the necessary herbs to craft an effective antidote, but we must send him back immediately. Contact her now and tell her to prepare the potion for this specific toxin."
Despite being a mythical beast, Aetherwing's knowledge of such matters was incomparable to most human healers. Through their bond, he transmitted the exact formula for the antidote directly to August's mind.
"Thank you, Master. I've already sent the information to Aunt Theresa," August replied, grateful for his mentor's vast experience and wisdom.
---
Emergency Mission
Suddenly, August's vision filled with the familiar translucent interface of his SYSTEM, the words appearing in urgent, pulsing red text:
**[SYSTEM: !EMERGENCY MISSION!**
**ELIMINATE THE POWERFUL INDIVIDUALS BEFORE YOU.**
**REWARDS:**
- **+ NEW TITLE**
- **+ 30,000 XP**
- **+ (2) MID-TIER SKILLS**
- **+ UPGRADED EQUIPMENT (GUARANTEED EXPERT RANK)]**
August felt a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension as he absorbed the mission details. The substantial rewards promised by the SYSTEM indicated that the materials he had carefully stored in their warehouse could finally be put to use for equipment upgrades. It was fortunate that he had exercised restraint and saved those precious resources for exactly this type of opportunity.
However, the generous nature of these rewards served as a double-edged revelation. The SYSTEM only offered such promising incentives when his chances of victory hung by the thinnest of threads. This battle would push him to his absolute limits, but he sensed that victory, while improbable, remained within the realm of possibility.
---
The Battle Against the Bloodhounds
August squared his shoulders and faced the elderly bloodhound with newfound resolve. "Unfortunately, I cannot comply with such a request, even if we do possess information that you need. You see, sir, you've wounded a precious companion of ours, and such an act cannot go unpunished. There must be a price paid for such evil."
The old man's grin stretched from ear to ear, his eyes lighting up with an unholy excitement. His blood began to boil with anticipation—for several long years, he hadn't experienced this intoxicating rush of adrenaline coursing through his aging veins. His crazed eyes and psychotic mind had truly missed this sensation; it brought him pure joy to witness others bleed and scream for their lives. He had grown weary of the mundane lifestyle that he and his fellow bloodhounds were forced to endure between missions, finding it increasingly difficult as age crept upon him to contain his devilish fantasies. But here, in this remote forest, he could indulge in his darkest desires with unbridled enthusiasm—the butchering of these unfortunate souls before him.
The old bloodhound harbored a dangerous superiority complex, convinced that he had been chosen by the gods as a higher tier of human being, elevated above the common masses. In his twisted worldview, he stood on par with kings and emperors, entitled to do whatever his dark heart desired. This was the extent of his fantastical delusions and his warped perception of reality.
"So be it!" he declared with manic glee. "Make this entertaining for me and my partner. We shall torture you here in this cursed forest, and afterward, we'll feast on your flesh alongside the beasts! HA HA HA HA!" His maniacal laughter echoed through the trees like the cry of a demented creature.
August quickly messaged Betty through their group's party chat, instructing her to escort Uncle Red back to the village at a safe distance. Meanwhile, the hidden mate of Aetherwing would retrieve them both and transport them to safety. They needed to maintain the illusion that these assassins held the upper hand, when in reality, they had already become ensnared in the intricate web of strategies that August had carefully prepared.
Moments later, the female bloodhound launched herself forward with deadly grace, her short blade gleaming wickedly in her hand, its edge coated with the same lethal poison that had felled Red.
*SHING! TING! TANG!*
The clash of metal rang through the forest as their blades met and scraped against each other in a deadly dance. The odds stood at two bloodhounds versus six defenders: August, Bren, Erik, Angeline, Jonathan, and Christopher.
August chose to face the old man in single combat while the others concentrated their efforts on the female bloodhound. She proved to be incredibly nimble and agile, her attacks coming in lightning-quick succession. Her magical spells were precisely timed and devastatingly accurate, but they were consistently countered by the flawless teamwork that had been forged through months of rigorous combat training. These warriors both young and old were no strangers to blades whistling toward their faces or magical spells hurtling in their direction—they had gained invaluable experience through daily combat drills, albeit in controlled, safe environments.
Meanwhile, August and the old man engaged in their own deadly ballet, their incredible speeds creating streaks of light as their weapons—one forged from beast bone, the other from high-quality steel—clashed repeatedly. The old bloodhound found himself intrigued by August's weapon and overall equipment, noting their beastly appearance and wondering how such craftsmanship could have been achieved in the wilderness.
August felt a growing sense of offense as the old bloodhound seemed to be toying with him, parrying his most critical and vital strikes as if they were mere child's play. While August struggled to adjust to his opponent's deceptive old-man strength—which was formidable even without magical enhancement—he refused to be underestimated.
August's combat repertoire proved remarkably versatile. When they weren't locked in close-quarters combat, he would seamlessly switch to his bow and arrow, launching long-range attacks at both bloodhounds. This strategy served to distract the female assassin during her battle with the team while maintaining pressure on his primary opponent. During mid-range encounters, he quickly transitioned to his spear, and in close combat, his short sword and shield became his weapon of choice. Throughout it all, he used minimal magic, carefully gauging his enemies' strengths and weaknesses.
The old bloodhound gradually grew weary of his curiosity about how this young warrior could match him blow for blow while seemingly holding back his true strength. His visible annoyance increased as he realized that prolonging the battle would only work to his disadvantage. He needed to end this confrontation quickly.
"Impressive, boy," he said between exchanges. "Perhaps you'd consider joining our organization? You could become a valuable asset and develop your skills even further. You certainly have the natural talent to become a master assassin!"
August completely ignored the offer, his disinterest clearly visible. Seeing the boy's rejection, the old bloodhound began to escalate the pressure, slowly increasing his strength to overpower his young opponent while incorporating magic as both distraction and potentially lethal finishing moves.
---
Five Versus One
The battle involving the group was simultaneously intensifying to dangerous levels. The female bloodhound proved to be no mere opponent—she possessed an extensive arsenal of techniques and abilities that effectively canceled out and countered the team's combined efforts to defeat or eliminate her. She evaded one lethal blow after another while delivering her own varied and devastating attacks. Additionally, she had to contend with August's long-range arrow attacks, which served as a constant and highly annoying distraction.
She was a woman of few words but abundant action, delivering killing strikes in rapid succession with mechanical precision.
After half an hour of intense combat, the female bloodhound—trained extensively in the dark arts of human assassination—began to identify and exploit cracks in the fundamentally strong teamwork displayed by Jonathan and his group. Wounds began to accumulate on both sides as she patiently bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike decisively.
Something was beginning to trouble her, however. Why weren't her opponents collapsing from exhaustion? At first glance, this group appeared to be relatively amateurish—certainly their teamwork was exceptional, but individually they ranged from newly minted experts to merely advanced fighters. The tank commanding from the front lines was particularly durable and showed clear signs of prior combat experience, but even the younger members demonstrated remarkable proficiency in this type of warfare.
No longer willing to test the waters and drain her own diminishing stamina further, she decided to end the battle by dramatically increasing her power output and mana expenditure.
Meanwhile, the group maintained their composure and continued following Jonathan's strategic commands. Erik even found opportunities to launch several arrows in August's direction, creating additional distractions for the old bloodhound. Their daily training regimen was finally bearing fruit—it seemed their enemies had severely underestimated their capabilities. They would demonstrate that they were not to be trifled with.
---
Aetherwings Aerial POV
High above the battlefield, Aetherwing enjoyed a commanding view of the ongoing combat below. From his vantage point, it appeared that the confrontation would reach its conclusion very soon.
He felt a surge of pride watching his ward's impressive performance, even while facing such an experienced assassin in direct combat. However, something in the atmosphere began to shift ominously. The aura emanating from the enemies below started to transform into something far more dangerous and sinister, their dark energies becoming increasingly malevolent.
Before he could transmit a warning to August about the impending danger, a sudden explosion of raw energy erupted from both enemies below.
---
Sinister Power
The old bloodhound's power levels exploded exponentially, and August's SYSTEM immediately began blaring urgent warnings:
**[DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! MASTER, PLEASE RUN!]**
But the warning came too late. Before either team could assume defensive positions, they were already suffering wounds in various locations, the sheer force launching them into nearby trees. The sudden burst of the bloodhounds' sinister aura had completely overturned what had been a relatively balanced battle.
The old bloodhound began laughing maniacally as he watched August struggle to regain his footing. August's internal organs had been severely damaged, several ribs were broken, and his life-preservation title activated immediately, beginning the painful process of internal repair. He couldn't breathe properly, gasping as the powerful attack continued to ravage his body. His armor had saved him from certain death, but what about the others?
He glanced behind him to see blood splattered across the forest floor. Angeline was crying, Jonathan was groaning in agony, Christopher had been impaled on a tree branch, and Erik's hands were twisted at unnatural angles as he screamed in pain. Bren, although he didn't see, was also struck on a tree.
Death seemed inevitable.
August, fighting to maintain consciousness, managed to cry out desperately for help.
"Mas...master, please help them..."
He stumbled and felt his consciousness beginning to fade as his SYSTEM continued sending frantic warning alerts.
---
Aetherwings Mythical Powers!
The majestic bird was simultaneously receiving danger signals and warnings about August—the mysterious power dwelling within the boy was screaming at him through their bond.
The mighty Sky Sovereign swooped down from the heavens, his full power encompassing the entire forest. Even the ancient dragons dwelling in the distant mountains could sense his rising anger through the elemental currents.
Crackling thunder and powerful gusts of wind struck the forest floor, launching lightning-touched debris in all directions. The two bloodhound masters were sent flying through the air, completely unprepared to face something that was, to them, akin to a living god.
Aetherwing's towering frame was enough to send their knees trembling, his presence easily overpowering even their enhanced sinister energies.
The Mighty Peregrine Eagle before them was truly a creature of myths and legends. His eyes blazed with lightning's fury, and the wind aura surrounding his magnificent form was utterly suffocating to behold.
He glowed with brilliant gold and emerald light, his elemental affinities on full display for all to witness.
Before the old bloodhound could even attempt to launch an assault, Aetherwing released a powerful screech—a bone-chilling and deafening sound that caused the enemies' ears to bleed from the sheer sonic force. The cry was intended for one specific person to hear: his unconscious ward, who lay dying in his own blood but was being kept alive by the powerful entity dwelling within him.
A moment later, channeling the full force of his mythical power, Aetherwing unleashed one of his ward's favorite techniques from one of his vast magical arsenal: **[PIERCING BOLT]**. A brilliant flash of divine light descended from the heavens, piercing both bloodhounds simultaneously. They couldn't mount any defense against the celestial attack—the quick bolt of pure energy burned them to ashes, killing them both instantly.
---
Pyrrhic Victory
The battle had reached its natural and inevitable conclusion, but the price paid was devastatingly heavy.
Around Aetherwing lay his ward and his friends, their bodies broken and bloodied from the brutal encounter.
Tragically, one of them would never return home to the village from this dark forest. When the female bloodhound had launched her final, desperate attack towards Angeline, both Christopher and Jonathan had moved to shield her from harm. The protective act had cost them dearly—Christopher was launched with tremendous force onto a sharp tree branch that impaled him completely, while Erik's hands were crushed when she kicked him with supernatural strength.
Bren had sustained deep cuts in several places before being hurled against a nearby tree, likely breaking his spine and multiple ribs in the process.
Only Angeline had been spared from lethal injuries, though she bore a massive wound along her arms. Her father lay across her lap, his arms broken and shattered, breathing in shallow, labored gasps that suggested his life hung by the thinnest of threads.
The injuries sustained in this battle were immense and heartbreaking to witness. A silent SYSTEM notification was all that August could perceive as consciousness slowly returned to him.
When he finally awakened, the area around them had been completely destroyed by the unleashed forces. His master had landed on the ground, his majestic head turned toward the location where his friends lay motionless.
It had been a bloody day that left everyone present shocked and stunned by the magnitude of destruction and loss they had witnessed. The victory felt hollow in the face of such devastating consequences, and the survivors would carry the scars—both physical and emotional—of this encounter for the rest of their lives.