Dragon King's Harem Chapter 375. Unpredictable III
Viperax's heart pounded faster, the anxiety tightening its grip around his chest. The lack of bodies was almost worse than if he had found them; it was as if everyone had simply vanished into thin air. His mind raced with possibilities.
"Find them!" Viperax barked, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.
The soldiers sprang into action, fanning out across the camp in search of any sign of life, any clue as to what had happened.
As they spread out, Viperax moved deeper into the camp, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. The silence was obvious, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire or the rustling of the wind through the trees. His thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and desperation. 'Where are they? What happened here?'
Those monsters—both Nightshade Ravagers and Dreadswarm Reavers—ravenous beasts that would take and eat whatever they could find, even their own kind if necessary. The thought of those creatures devouring his soldiers, his wives, made his blood run cold. The absence of bodies only intensified his dread.
Had they been dragged away, their remains scattered somewhere in the forest? Or had they managed to escape to some safer place?
Viperax knelt beside a tent that bore the battle marks. The fabric was slashed, and there were deep claw marks in the earth nearby. He reached out, touching the bloodstains on the ground. It was still fresh, sticky to the touch. His breath caught in his throat as he imagined the terror that must have gripped those who had been here. But there was no trail, no sign of where they might have gone.
"They could have run," Viperax muttered to himself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. "Maybe they escaped into the forest, somewhere safer." He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the camp again. But the nagging doubt remained. If they had escaped, why hadn't they left any sign? No footprints, no blood trail, nothing that would indicate a direction?
One of his soldiers approached him, his face pale and strained. He stopped a few paces from Viperax, his eyes flicking nervously around the deserted camp as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows.
"Your Majesty," the soldier began, his voice low and tense, "we've searched the perimeter and the nearby forest edge. There's no sign of them—no bodies, no tracks, nothing. It's like they just vanished."
Viperax's jaw tightened, the frustration and fear twisting together in his chest. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms as he fought to maintain control. The lack of evidence, and the emptiness of the camp, was maddening. It made no sense. Even if his soldiers and wives had fled, there should have been something—footprints, broken branches, a trail of blood—but there was nothing.
In the midst of Viperax's growing frustration, a shout rang out from one of the soldiers, cutting through the tense silence like a knife. "Your Majesty! Over here! I've found something—a trail!"
Viperax's head snapped toward the sound. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed toward the soldier who had called out, the rest of the troops quickly converging on the spot. The soldier was crouched near the edge of the camp, pointing to a faint trail that wound its way into the forest.
Viperax knelt beside him, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the trail. It was faint, barely discernible in the dim moonlight, but it was there—scuff marks in the dirt, broken twigs, and patches of disturbed earth. It was a sign, finally, that someone had passed through here.
"Good work," Viperax muttered, his voice filled with determination as he rose to his feet. He turned to his soldiers, his gaze hard and commanding. "We follow the trail. Stay alert—this could be a trap, but we don't have a choice. We need to find out what happened."
With that, Viperax led the way, following the faint trail as it wound its way into the dense forest. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set their nerves on edge, but they pressed on, driven by a shared sense of urgency and dread.
The trail was difficult to follow, often disappearing and reappearing. But Viperax and his soldiers were relentless, their eyes scanning the ground for any sign of disturbance, their senses heightened to catch even the faintest clue.
After what felt like an eternity, they came upon a small, secluded clearing. The trail led directly into it, and there, hidden among the thick foliage, they found a makeshift hideout. Viperax's heart pounded as he approached, his eyes narrowing as he spotted movement within the shadows.
He pushed through the last barrier of branches and emerged into the clearing. There, huddled together in fear and exhaustion, were his wives. His remaining soldiers were there too.
His wives were bruised and battered, their bodies covered in scars and wounds. Their once elegant clothing was torn and stained with blood and dirt. They trembled as they sat on the ground, their eyes wide with fear, their hands clutching each other.
The soldiers who had survived the attack were in no better condition. There were only ten of them left, their faces gaunt and hollowed by exhaustion and fear. Their armor was battered, their weapons bloodied, and their expressions spoke of the horrors they had witnessed.
He quickly strode over to them, dropping to one knee as he reached the nearest of his wives. "What happened?" he asked, his voice softer than usual but laced with an urgency.
One of his wives, the one with a deep gash across her arm, looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Those monsters attacked us. There were a lot of them, much more than before. They came out of nowhere," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Those creatures… they tore through the camp like nothing. We tried to fight them off, but… there were too many."
Viperax clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as he listened. "And the others? The rest of the soldiers?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the remaining men.
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