"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 395: A Flawed Siege
Douglas drew his gaze away from Lupin and fixed it on Aldo, his voice calm and steady.
"Aldo, we all know what you've been through."
He crouched down, so he was eye-to-eye with the one-eyed old dwarf.
"But we need every detail. Anything you remember could change the fate of the Ashclaw Pack—and maybe many more lives besides."
Lupin took a deep breath.
Inside, his emotions felt like a spring forced down, all tension and pressure, ready to snap at any moment.
He gave Aldo an encouraging look. "Yes, Aldo. Tell us—how did the attack happen? What did those people look like?"
Aldo's cracked lips trembled.
Terror flashed in his single eye, as if the nightmare were happening all over again.
"They… they looked like ghosts clawed up from hell."
His voice was rough, scraping like sandpaper.
"Half of them wore… heavy, old-fashioned knight's armor, with faded crosses on the breastplates. The other half… were priests in black robes, holding holy emblems and… silver chains."
Douglas narrowed his eyes.
That description… almost too perfect.
Aldo looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope in his gaze.
"That day, we were preparing for your arrival, Mr. Holmes. Chief Marco said our suffering might finally end. He said you were the messenger sent by the moon."
Aldo's voice quivered as he pressed on.
"Suddenly, alarms sounded—the magical traps at the tribe's perimeter had been triggered."
Lupin's fists clenched unconsciously.
He knew that helpless feeling all too well.
"We ran out and saw them."
Aldo's voice grew urgent.
"They came from every direction, pouring in through all the main mine entrances. They moved in perfect formation—like a trained army."
Douglas nodded slowly.
"That does sound like the Church's style."
But doubt still lingered in his eyes.
It was almost too much like the Church—so much so, it felt off.
Aldo shook his head, bewildered.
"It was just… strange."
"This time, their tactics were completely different from when we fought those maniacs from the Order of Saint Benedict last month."
"Back then, they were like starving wolves—relentless, out for blood."
He paused, confusion glinting in his single eye.
"But this time… it was odd. They could have killed us easily, but always pulled back at the last second. More than once, a holy light bolt whizzed past my ear, shattering stone instead of flesh."
"They didn't seem intent on killing us all. It was more like… herding sheep. Using fear and pain to drive us, forcing us deeper and deeper into the mines—toward the darkest, dead-end tunnels."
He clutched his chest, coughing violently. Dark blood streaked his phlegm.
"I got hit in the back by a powerful holy light spell."
With effort, Aldo turned to reveal the gruesome burns on his back, then pointed to his charred, twisted trouser leg, his voice trembling with the memory.
"And my leg… burned by a damned Purifying Flame curse."
Douglas leaned in for a closer look.
The wounds were unmistakably the work of Church magic, but…
"I knew I was done for," Aldo said softly, despair coloring his words.
"If I stayed with the others, I'd only slow them down—and lead the enemy right to… to our new home."
The words struck a chord in Lupin.
To protect his friends, he'd chosen to face death alone.
He'd seen that kind of sacrifice before.
The Order of the Phoenix.
"So, in the chaos, when everyone was running, I… I used the last of my strength—just acting on instinct. I tried to Apparate…"
Lupin's head snapped up, interrupting him. "Apparition? You managed that? In the middle of a siege?"
His tone was incredulous. He knew, from bitter experience, that Anti-Apparition jinxes were standard in any organized hunt.
Douglas's gaze sharpened. He didn't look at Lupin, but locked eyes with Aldo. "Before you Apparated, did you feel any resistance—like the space was being sealed?"
Aldo nodded weakly, then shook his head, confusion clouding his face.
"I didn't think I'd make it. I just… didn't want to die in front of them, didn't want to drag everyone else down…"
"But then, I felt that familiar squeezing sensation—and I made it."
"That's what's been bothering me ever since."
"With such a large-scale siege, those Church dogs should have had all the basic protections up. But this time… there were none."
Douglas glanced around the cramped, oppressive mine shaft before turning back to Aldo.
"What about the others? The rest of the pack—were they captured, or…?"
His voice was gentle, but it made Aldo shudder.
A faint, uncertain hope flickered in the old man's eye.
"I… I think a good number escaped."
"Because I Apparated in front of some of them. I remember it clearly—Chief Marco was still covering me."
"Right before I disappeared, the last thing I heard was him shouting—'Apparate! Now! Anyone who can, go to the backup sites!'"
"But I don't know how many actually made it, or where they ended up. We've got several backup hideouts scattered in the mountains."
"I felt like I was dying. My back was on fire, and I knew those Church dogs would leave tracking marks on my wounds. I was afraid if I went straight to a backup site, I'd lead them right to everyone else."
He gestured at the dark, winding mine around them.
"This is an old, abandoned vein I found years ago while prospecting. Almost nobody knows it exists. I figured if I died here, at least I wouldn't give away our new hideouts… it was the least I could do for the pack."
He panted, his trembling fingers pointing toward some rock-hard fungi in the corner and a shallow puddle of murky water.
"I survived on those, and some dried boar meat I'd brought along… I have no idea how many days passed. Down here, time lost all meaning—just endless darkness and pain."
"I thought I'd rot away here, become part of the mine, spend eternity with these cold stones…"
As he spoke, realization dawned. His single eye darted between them, suspicion creeping in.
"So… how did you find me?"
Douglas didn't elaborate. "A little magical device," he replied.
He bent to carefully examine Aldo's wounds.
The holy light burns were horrific.
But Douglas's brow furrowed.
"This holy light… it's pure, but missing something. Lacks a certain… foundation."
He murmured, almost to himself.
"Feels more like an imitation than true, faith-fueled sacred power."
Lupin heard, and his heart skipped.
Imitation?
What could that mean?
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