Savage Ascension: Starting with God-Tier Plunder Ability-Chapter 108: Mutant Werewolf

The subjugation wrapped up without much trouble. The gap in equipment alone made it a completely one-sided fight. The total number of bandits who fought against the subjugation force was 85, but they had no patience, and the battle had been fought without any real coordination on their end.

The ambush had kept the bandits from rallying together in the first place, so the situation had been favorable for the subjugation force from the start. The only casualties were about ten soldiers with minor injuries: a sprained ankle from the uneven cave floor, a forehead smashed into a stalactite, and other small mistakes like that.

With zero deaths, the mood was genuinely good.

Out of 85 bandits, 60 surrendered and were captured. On top of that, 70 women and children were bound. The women might have been victims, but there was no way to sort that out on the spot. A first round of questioning would have to separate them, and after that, they would be directed to a temple.

130 prisoners total.

A crushing victory. But the soldiers, who had every reason to be celebrating, had a stiff atmosphere about them. Torches burned quietly in the dark, and not a sound was made.

In the hot summer, with a cool breeze coming down from the hill, the murmuring of soldiers occasionally drifted to Rowan in broken fragments.

The body that Rowan had killed and beheaded was still surrounded by a cluster of soldiers right where it had fallen.

The corpse had been drained of blood and packed hard in salt. After salt was worked into every corner of the mouth, it was brought before Commander Gesilian Faerun.

Senior Soldier Bulsheben, a handful of veteran soldiers, and Rowan were inside the military tent. Rowan finished laying out the full account and went quiet, and silence settled over the room. Everyone was waiting on Gesilian's call.

"A werewolf... I've only ever seen them in records, but something's off. Usually their transformation starts with the fur. Fur first, then the muzzle pushes forward."

That was how it went every single time. But this boss, who had gone by two names (Pandevus and Sserdepan) had the muzzle come out first. A clear mutation. And mutations always carried something ominous with them.

Like spotting a brown wolf with strikingly white fur in a green forest: that same sense of something being deeply wrong.

'There's some kind of scheme behind this.'

Something like this had happened in what was supposed to be a simple subjugation operation. And against a bandit outfit that only ever preyed on helpless civilians, at that. The trail naturally led toward the merchant group trading with the bandits.

"This whole thing is starting to smell really wrong."

Commander Gesilian sat with it. It had a dirty taste to it, dirty enough that he wasn't sure he wanted to put his hands in it.

'This is no ordinary situation.'

The only knight present was himself. And even then, as a nobleman, his focus had been on sharpening his abilities as a commander. He couldn't exactly call himself a knight with any real confidence. He was a commander, not a knight who volunteered for the front lines.

The only reason he had taken the vanguard against the bandit group was because they posed no real threat.

"The mutant werewolf wasn't working right. It was like a wild animal had moved into his head. Even in human form, when he got excited, he made animal sounds."

There wasn't much to take away from the werewolf angle. All they knew was that it was incomplete. Next was the unsettling parchment. A horrifying thing that made anyone who looked at it retch. It wasn't horrifying and unsettling just because it made people sick.

It was because of the unbearable sensation it wrapped around you.

"It's no ordinary object, so it's no surprise nobody's seen anything like it, but..."

The neatly folded parchment was tied with cord. Everyone except Rowan had vomited the moment they looked at the symbols. Commander Gesilian, protected by magic, was unaffected. It was some kind of evil object that interfered with the mind.

'Does Rowan have an unusually strong constitution? Unaffected because the mind is so solid. Genuinely impressive.'

Protected by magic, Commander Gesilian had gotten another look at Rowan's strength. He wanted Rowan under his command. It was a notable quality, though not an extremely rare one. Mental fortitude shifts with every person and every situation, so anyone (even a lowly woodcutter) can occasionally stand without despair in front of something evil.

Because of that, he didn't place Rowan in especially high regard, but he did think a step better of Rowan regardless. In a southern kingdom crawling with all manner of things, that kind of rock-solid mental strength was definitely one useful trait to have.

'Time's pressing. What a waste.'

Commander Gesilian let out a sigh and picked up the parchment, placing it in the wooden case. Next was the merchant group: the original target that had been trading with the bandits.

"The bandits they dealt with before named multiple trading locations, but the Back-Door Gang, being the size they were, apparently had the merchant group come directly to this valley. No exact date was pinned down, but they said the group is certain to arrive within three to five days."

The timing was decent, but the situation had gotten messy. It wasn't a simple matter anymore, and any move forward needed careful consideration.

"If we proceed as planned, we may end up facing a much stronger enemy than expected."

Senior Soldier Bulsheben was worried about wearing down the soldiers. The regular army existed for the state and lived to serve those already in power. On the surface, it was said they lived for the citizens, but the reality was different. Because of that, the honors given to fallen soldiers, whether killed in battle or taken by illness, were exceptional, all in the name of maintaining the troops' sense of purpose.

For that reason, throwing soldiers into combat wasn't something a commander could decide alone on a whim. That was fine for something light like a bandit suppression, but this was different now.

The mutant werewolf and the ominous parchment alone were already more than enough reason to pull the troops back. That was the normal call.

The veteran soldiers felt the same way. Going beyond the plan was the same as gambling.

'That can't happen.'

Rowan was naturally against it. The anticipation of seeing a black door had already been building up. For everyone else, it was a fight against a dangerous enemy with nothing to gain, but for Rowan, a big reward was waiting. And Commander Gesilian, deep down, probably wanted to keep the operation going.

'Judging by how he treats me, I'm clearly at knight level.'

It was late to be coming to that conclusion, but Rowan was finally able to measure the strength properly and see it straight. That became confidence. Going at the mutant werewolf without any secret techniques, without hesitation: that too came from having the right measure of one's own strength.

"May I say something?"

When Rowan stepped forward, the others in the room made faces. Rowan had no business being here in the first place, but had played a big enough role in this operation to have earned a seat. The right move at the start would have been to read the room and keep quiet.

'Thinks a few good deeds gives the right to run wild.'

'Is Rowan under Commander Gesilian now? Still doesn't sit right with me.'

The world of men was packed with harshness and cruelty. Many of them believed that if they had taken hits on their way up, everyone else had to take the same hits. That kind of thinking was what eventually got called initiation, and slowly seeped into ingrained bad habits. Plenty of people still looked the other way even then.

Because nothing feels more embarrassing to a man than showing that he cares about another man. That was true for victims, perpetrators, and bystanders alike. The position didn't matter.

'So what.'

Rowan wasn't planning to stick around long. All that mattered was hitting the short-term goal and moving on. And taking the lead here was exactly that: carrying the load, which, from Commander Gesilian's standpoint, was a perfectly useful horse to ride. Watching him nod, Rowan opened up.

"The people we're up against won't be expecting things to go off-plan any more than we did. Think about today. The mutant werewolf chose to run. That right there tells you exactly what level we're dealing with."

It was a way of saying these weren't enemies the soldiers needed to be afraid of. Bandits at most, and maybe a handful of mutant werewolves.

"They were running some kind of operation using a bandit outfit they could throw away without a second thought. And if you follow the connection, it's probably a massive scheme. Some very interesting, very evil plan. But the price to get that information is going to be just a handful of blood."

"You're saying the enemy's combat strength is low?"

Rowan nodded.

"Yes. The enemy is using a bandit outfit as cover to haul off loot, mostly weapons and arrows. But to pull off that kind of cover, you want real bandits doing the dirty work. Even in this Back-Door Gang, wasn't everyone except the boss just bandits who had no idea what was going on?"

"Then the ones coming are probably bandits, mountain outlaws, or fugitives..."

Commander Gesilian muttered. If that was the case, it was as good an opportunity as any. The information they carried would be valuable, but their actual fighting ability would be poor.

"If we can capture whoever is leading that merchant group, or at minimum get our hands on what they're carrying, the credit won't be ordinary. Isn't that a pretty solid payoff for killing a bunch of outlaw types?"

Rowan said that, dipped the head, and sat down. It was a fairly bold way to state an opinion.

Raw and unpolished. But it landed just right with Commander Gesilian and the veteran soldiers. Not that they let it show.

"When you put it that way, it makes me sound like the coward for suggesting we pull back."

Senior Soldier Bulsheben was the only one who wasn't satisfied. Laughter spread through the tent. Bulsheben smiled and picked up smoothly.

"The bandit outfit had stockpiled a fair amount of military supplies for trading. Plenty of bows, and enough arrows. Combined with what we've already collected, it should come to around 500 rounds."

With that, the decision was made.

"Someone is planning something. Leaving it alone would be a dereliction of duty. It is the army and its soldiers who bleed and take responsibility."

The round table meeting wound down after a bit more discussion and then broke up. Some soldiers headed off for a drink, and Rowan went straight back to the tent.

"You're back."

Espin and Doren were waiting. They had a decent spread of snacks laid out and four bottles of drinks ready to go. Clearly planning a proper celebration.

They talked for a while, and as the drinks slowly hit, voices got louder.

"Once this job's done, the first thing I'm doing is moving."

Doren's family was apparently eight people, and being the third child, the house was bursting at the seams.

"There are quite a few empty places around Torch Fortress, aren't there?"

"Those areas aren't safe."

Espin knocked back a cup and opened up a bit at Rowan's question. Listening to that, Rowan learned that Informant Merein's neighborhood was actually a pretty decent spot, mostly because there were hardly any empty houses around there.

"A proper place will run you at least five silver coins. That money gets passed around and a good chunk of it ends up with the guards too."

"Ah, I see..."

There was plenty Rowan didn't know about how city life worked. The lively conversation didn't last long before they drifted off one by one, falling asleep right where they sat. The furnace let out a small lick of flame and burned off the cool air.

The black dream came as usual. Gulliver Alastor didn't bother greeting Rowan. Only after Rowan gave a small nod did Gulliver nod back.

'A lot of black doors.'

More than expected. That meant the mutant werewolf had quite a few standout traits.

Rowan moved straight toward one of the black doors without hesitation.

A vision crashed down.