Building An Empire Starting From The Labor Camp In Exile-Chapter 313: Screamed

"Okey. What do you want?" Slya asked.

Bjarke shook his head. "I won’t say anything until I see your leader."

Slya scowled. "I’m getting tired of trading words with you. I am the leader. If you want anything, then go ahead, and if you don’t, then you are free to leave here. We are busy people."

The smile wiped away from Bjarke’s face when he realized that she wasn’t joking. He straightened. "You really are the leader? The men let you lead them?"

"You can see women in my squad as well," Slya said.

Bjarke waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "You from outside the desert are always strange. Since you are the leader, then I will say this. Surrender right now, and I can promise you your life.

"It won’t be easy, but you are all Errant Knights, and we will find some use for you. Unfortunately, your captain has to die because the process of removing memories from her head would be too taxing. But you lots will still get to live. What say you?"

Slya frowned and gave it some thought. "And if we disagree? If we want to fight instead?"

Bjarke gave her a look as if she was insane. "I am three times stronger than you in forces. You won’t survive, and we are Storm Devils. You won’t last fifteen minutes."

"Really? Then what I really want to do is fight. I am glad, Bjarke, that you came so much closer to my camp. A ship broke down, and they were repairing it right there in the open, no shield, no hiding.

"Whatever they might have planned."

Bjarke’s face widened. He cursed himself for letting his arrogance blind him once he heard that there was no Master Knight among them. "Go back! Go back! Shields in place!"

Slya drew her sword. The stones set in the hilt flared to life, but instead of the silver-white energy that came out earlier, what enveloped her sword was black essence.

The ground shuddered, the sands flowed like water, and then as Bjarke’s force was running away, the ground opened up beneath them as something massive opened its mouth.

In an instant, about four dozen fell into the mouth of the terrible monster that opened its maw. Bjarke was falling too until someone caught him with a wind current as they whipped up the Storm Devils’ formation.

But those that had fallen never got the chance to crawl back because the mouth closed the next instant.

Bjarke stared down at the ground in horror. "Is this a new monster? Or did they bring it with them?"

It was a big whale, its body made of black and red material. The red throbbed like the fire in a forge. Its mouth opened again, showing rows of fangs, and then suddenly a tongue shot out, piercing the air like an arrow.

The tongue latched straight onto the face of a warrior and then dragged him in so fast the man’s scream was lost in the howling storm.

Bjarke could only watch, his angry eyes turned to Slya and her men below. He growled in anger. "Kill them all!"

The storm howled, wind tore the ground, and sand turned scorching as it bore down. Bjarke himself, deep within the storm, didn’t do anything. He only watched as the storm went for the intruders.

A sparking shield came between them, and the storm collided with it, shaking the shield and cracking it, making it look like it was going to snap.

But Slya wasn’t moved. She stood with her sword still dripping with black smoke, the edges throbbing red. Just as the storm was about to smash into them again, she raised her sword.

The whale that had returned to the ground earlier rose up again. Its body shuddered, and then it collapsed into chunks of black balls that suddenly shot forward into the storm.

But Slya had underestimated the storm. Her attack was lost in the storm. The balls became part of its spinning weapons that came down on her shield again.

"The ship can’t hold up. Should we ready our attacks?"

Slya nodded. "Yes."

Beside her, low humming sounds began to spread, and blinding light flashed as the bind weapons roared to life. But she didn’t immediately give the orders to attack.

Instead, she lifted her sword once more. Using it as a staff or wand, she made some grand gesture that was in no way random. The formation in her mind flexed and shuddered.

And then her technique got amplified.

The black balls that were flying in the storm suddenly began to reshape, forming black tendrils that reached out to each other, connecting together.

In the span of an eye, the balls suddenly expanded into a big dragging sheet, an umbrella of sorts. It was so sudden that some of the Storm Devils didn’t catch it in time, and they smashed into the sheet of forged darkness.

There was a series of wet crunches, and the storm faltered.

The sandstorm wasn’t just a mass of spinning brown sands. Now it was interrupted by red and black.

Bjarke roared when he saw this. He directly wanted to fly down and engage, but he wasn’t stupid enough. "Stop fighting as a Storm Devil. Come down now! Now!"

But it was already too late. The air went white as dozens of attacks lit up the space around them. The howling wind was torn to pieces, and with it most of the Storm Devils.

Bjarke wasn’t part of it, but he was severely wounded. His side was soaked with blood. He shook his head. The space around him that was distorted seemed to turn even more chaotic.

"Wind Walkers! Get us out of here!"

The Wind Walkers are actually the ones available for the storm while everyone else forms into positions inside it.

The storm began to howl again as it came to life, but they didn’t get the chance. Another round of silver light filled the air, ripping into the storm with ease and smashing down shields as if they weren’t there.

Bjarke’s world suddenly turned upside down. His hand clenched, and without hesitation, he opened his mouth and screamed.