"Master, they've entered the sewers."
In the grand hall of Howling Castle, Zane lounged with one leg crossed over the other, listening to Chunk of Flesh's detailed report on Chris and his team's movements.
Although Chunk of Flesh's ability to appear and disappear like a ghost was impressive, this entirely manual method of reporting was still rather inconvenient.
He wondered if, in the future, it might be possible to install something like surveillance systems in the castle...
Zane silently considered the idea when Chunk of Flesh suddenly asked him a question.
"Master, do you intend to wait until they reach the Inner City before making a move, or should we start in the Outer City?"
Like most castles, Howling Castle was composed of two main sections. The Outer City, similar in function to a barbican, was primarily designed to fend off invaders, while the Inner City served as the residential and central living area.
Separating the Outer City from the Inner City was a moat—not filled with ordinary water, but with a green, highly corrosive liquid.
The only way across the moat was via a drawbridge—and that drawbridge could only be raised or lowered by Zane himself.
After a moment of thought, Zane replied to Chunk of Flesh.
"The real plan doesn't start until they enter the Inner City. But for now… let's give them a bit of pressure, make them pick up the pace."
As he spoke, Zane reached down and patted the head of Ghoul Evan, who was crouched quietly at his feet.
"Go. You can tear one or two apart—but don't kill them all."
Evan, who had been lying there in silence, suddenly leapt to his feet the moment he heard the order. He scratched furiously at the ground with his claws, his entire body brimming with agitation, then tilted his head back and let out a terrifying, bone-chilling howl!
"Roooooooar——!"
The roar ripped through the silence of the night like a dagger, slashing open the darkness and revealing the crimson lurking beneath the shroud of night!
The hunt had begun.
"Did you guys hear that?"
At the base of the Outer City wall, a knight who had just climbed out of the sewer looked around nervously and asked his nearby comrades.
Chris shot a fierce glare at the soldier and snapped impatiently.
"It was just a crow! What the hell are you so jumpy about?!"
"That wasn't a crow! Definitely not a crow!" the soldier said, shaking his head in panic. "It sounded more like… some kind of wild beast!"
"Shut up!"
Chris abruptly drew the sword at his waist and, with a single swing, cleaved a nearby dead branch cleanly in two.
Splinters flew, scattering across the armor of every soldier nearby. The frightened knight who had spoken earlier flinched in shock and dared not make another sound, only staring blankly at his captain.
Chris swept his cold gaze across everyone present, then growled harshly.
"Anyone who dares disrupt morale again—will end up like this piece of wood!"
No one dared say another word, but the oppressive atmosphere only grew heavier.
Chris didn't care what these grunts thought of him. As a noble of the Kingdom of Winterscar, he was born superior—his nobility ran in his blood. These soldiers were nothing more than tools to help him climb toward greater power and honor.
He didn't need the respect of these lowborn men. He just needed their fear.
Seeing that his display had successfully intimidated everyone, Chris was quite satisfied. His gaze swept over the group before finally landing on Bart.
"Vice Captain Bart, I need a seasoned veteran to lead the way. Do you think you're up to the task?"
Bart stared at Chris's face, doing his best to suppress the deep disgust he felt for this man, then gave a stiff nod.
"Of course."
Bart drew his longsword from his waist, looked around cautiously, then began to speak.
"This should be the Outer City of Howling Castle. If I'm right, those distant trenches over there are the moat. Usually, there's only a single drawbridge that connects to the Inner City…"
He stopped speaking there and glanced at Chris.
The meaning behind his words was obvious. If they wanted to rescue Princess Lila, they would have to cross the drawbridge no matter what. And crossing that drawbridge would inevitably alert Duke Dracula to their presence.
Chris was arrogant, but he wasn't stupid. He knew full well that for ordinary people, storming Howling Castle under these conditions was basically a death sentence.
But Chris wasn't an ordinary man.
He reached up and touched the wooden box strapped to his back, then nodded slightly.
"We'll head over and take a look first. Don't worry—as a competent commander, I won't let my men die in vain."
It would've been better if he hadn't said anything at all—because the moment those words left his mouth, everyone felt their hearts drop.
What did he mean, "not die in vain"? Nothing had even happened yet, and he was already talking about casualties? So, if there's a good enough reason, that means it's fine for them to die?
The thick tension was now laced with unease.
Idiot.
Bart cursed silently to himself, then quickly tried to smooth things over.
"Actually, what I'm more worried about is this—if the drawbridge to the Inner City hasn't been lowered, this whole trip might be for nothing."
He was being honest. Even Chris understood in his heart that if the drawbridge wasn't down, the idea of getting into the Inner City with just a handful of men was nothing short of delusional.
The thought that he might not get to play the hero darkened Chris's expression.
"We won't know until we go take a look," he muttered, then barked, "Alright, Bart—enough talk. Get moving and lead the way."
Lead the way? What way? He just didn't want to be the first one to die.
Bart gave a soft snort through his nose, said nothing more, and was the first to lift his foot and walk toward the direction of the moat.
Bart wasn't afraid of death. In his view, he should've entered Valhalla long ago, to reunite with his old comrades.
But there were too many young men in this unit. For these young souls to fall here would be far too great a waste.
Let's hope the drawbridge isn't lowered… Bart silently prayed to himself.
The vanguard continued to move forward. Now deep in enemy territory, no one dared use any form of lighting. They could only rely on the faint moonlight to make out their pitch-black surroundings. As a result, with every meter they advanced, Bart had to stop for several seconds to scan the area carefully.
As they neared the edge of the moat, Bart stopped again and checked the surroundings.
Suddenly! A dark shadow swept across under the moonlight!
Damn! Bart cursed inwardly, instantly crouching low and taking up a combat stance.
"Did you guys see that?" a knight whispered nervously. "I saw it—there was a shadow…"
Before the knight could finish speaking, Chris sharply barked a command.
"On alert!"
The soldiers, to their credit, were well-trained. They immediately formed into groups of three, standing back-to-back, each man watching his comrades' blind spots.
They held this alert formation for four to five minutes, but the shadow didn't appear again.
"Phew." Chris exhaled shortly, then forced a casual tone. "Looks like we're just wound too tight. Probably just a bird or something…"
But before Chris could even finish his sentence, a soldier keeping watch in the northwest suddenly shouted out.
"Over there! Someone's there!"
Chris whipped his head toward the northwest.
Sure enough! Beneath the shadowed silhouette of the castle, a massive figure stood proudly less than a hundred meters away, as if calmly observing them.
Finally showing yourself!
After a brief spike of tension, the warrior's fire inside Chris flared to life!
"Charge!"
With a furious roar, he raised his longsword and sprinted toward the dark figure.
"Get back here!" Bart shouted urgently. "Don't break formation!"
But at this point, Chris was like a raging bull, consumed entirely by the thrill of battle. There was no way he would listen to Bart now.
"Idiot!"
Bart couldn't help but curse aloud, then immediately issued a command.
"Advance in wedge formation! Watch the flanks!"
The well-trained knights, hearing the familiar command, suddenly felt anchored. They quickly fell into formation and charged closely behind Chris.
It was barely two hundred meters—a single charge—and they were already upon the shadow.
But the figure they'd been chasing vanished in the blink of an eye.
"What the hell is going on?!" Chris swung his longsword furiously, glaring at Bart as he snapped the question.
The way he looked at him, you'd think it was Bart who made the shadow disappear.