The night still persisted.
The caravan looked dreadful. What had once been an elegant caravan of black and gold hues—adorned with fine woodwork—had transformed into a chaotic jumble of blood and shredded flesh, moving aimlessly.
The slaves' weapons were bathed in red, as were the garments of the mercenaries. A terrible stench of blood and bodily fluids pervaded the entire caravan.
None of the mercenaries looked like champions. Every one bore signs of exhaustion. Even Fungi—who hadn't lifted a single finger throughout the whole skirmish—ended up with an abdominal wound. Despite the pain, he was forced to continue reciting his spell.
He had tried to defend himself, but he couldn't withstand an additional spell. The situation had become unsustainable, and although he defended himself with punches, his efforts proved inefficient.
During the journey, they had faced various groups: wolves, locusts, even crows. But the worst were the silver monkeys. They harassed the caravan throughout the trip, appearing now and then just to bother them.They no longer limited themselves to brute force and teeth. Now they hurled stones as projectiles. The mercenaries didn't suffer major damage, but the slaves were another matter. The barrier that once slowed the beasts' advance toward the roof was severely compromised.
Within minutes, accumulating in great numbers, the mercenaries—who only hours earlier had seemed capable of holding a steady campaign—could barely continue fighting.
Dead or wounded slaves, wagons damaged or dented—it was a disaster.
Han-Lee, who had seemed like a killing machine, now lay panting heavily. His speed and pace were dramatically reduced.
Huo-Huo was the only one showing no signs of fatigue, though his lineage allowed him to endure more than the others. However, even he bore more wounds than most.
The control sorcerers had red-stained hands from the strain of their own magic. Even the earth sorcerer's hands were studded with embedded stones.
All looked at Fungi with grim expressions. Everyone was giving their all, but he had barely contributed. Many grumbled during the journey about how slow the spell was, urging him to hasten its completion; yet he, unmoved by their complaints, continued reciting with the same strength he had begun with.
Only Huo-Huo did not rush him. He felt that Fungi's duty would prove worthwhile—he foresaw it. But not everyone shared his patience.
"Damned it, Master Fungi! If you knew your stupid spell would take this long, you should have prepared it the day before!" one of the control sorcerers shouted in fury.
Fungi stood firm, his gaze fixed on the forest, unaffected by their words.
One of the control sorcerers glared at him and spoke without waiting for a reply:"Useless healer, I'm sure you aren't truly one of our sect's healers, because you're too incompetent to be one. A real healer wouldn't leave us in this miserable state—and you even have the gall to charge for each use of your service!"
Han-Lee grabbed him by the shoulder and said calmly,"See, Huo-Huo, maybe it wasn't your best idea after all. I would have loved not to have been proven right about trusting unknown performers, but here we are, stuck."
Many mercenaries joined in the complaining, yet Huo-Huo remained impassive, fixing his gaze on Fungi.
"Master Fungi, answer me with your hand: raise one finger for 'no' and two for 'yes'. Are you close to finishing the rite?" he demanded.
Fungi raised two fingers on one hand and then one on the other.
Huo-Huo understood his meaning. Fungi wasn't far from completion, but the spell's base had been designed to reinforce over thirty souls simultaneously. The loss of a few would not alter its structure; even if fewer souls than intended were reinforced, that didn't mean he could speed up the process.
Huo-Huo asked again, "Do you think you can finish it before the next assault?"
Fungi raised two fingers with one hand.
With that, Huo-Huo looked at the others with a firm voice:"First, you bastards—why complain if we set off without healing, relying only on this primitive and lethal method? If you all want to mend your wounds, start bandaging yourselves now.""Second, don't waste your breath; we simply don't have enough. Those vile monkeys will continue to wear us down until they kill us, and we still have a long way to go."
No one spoke; they only exchanged silent grimaces. Fungi remained expressionless but began to feel uneasy. He could sense souls moving in his direction.
Huo-Huo was right. A terrible premonition loomed. The monkeys, by weakening their defenses and then retreating, hadn't done so by accident. As dire as their situation was, it was about to get even worse.
And it did.
Within minutes, the monkeys renewed their pursuit with immense fury. They returned, far more lethal than before.They had small monkeys on their backs that, from a distance, hurled stones at the wagons like deadly projectiles, while the main forces assaulted the vehicles.
They began slowly to tear apart the caravan's fortifications, focusing their attack on the slaves, many of whom were massacred. The mercenaries were not directly attacked—at least not initially—but they did feel helpless.
The mercenaries held on, but had no choice but to endure. Inside the caravan, the leader emerged to defend the inner wagons, while the few slaves served as distractions.
He didn't want to use major spells within the caravan, so he limited himself to a minor bleeding-effect magic weapon.
The monkeys were repelled, and when they started suffering losses, they withdrew once more.The attrition and frustration proved too great.
No one could hold out any longer.
"Goddamn it!" the mercenary archer shouted in utter frustration.
Everyone fell silent and looked downcast. They were all equally frustrated. But the archer continued:"Damn! I was never hired to deal with this! Damn those idiots—what a stupid owner who thought it'd be a great idea to face an onslaught of beasts!"
Han-Lee retorted mockingly,"Well, you could always just kill yourself. Jump off the wagon and turn back. If you're lucky, you might become food for the simian queen."
Huo-Huo looked at Han-Lee with a serious expression, but Han-Lee only responded bitterly,"Hey, it's not exactly a lie. Between facing a horde of beasts or lunatics from a sect, this is the better option. It just seems that none of you are used to being in the shit."
One of the end-position fighters spoke up,"You sure show you're one hell of a lunatic, you damn maniac. Not all of us possess an offensively abusive power like yours that forces us to live this miserable calm. It's not as if we want to die charging right into the front."
Han-Lee let out a mocking laugh and replied disdainfully,"And then what? Am I supposed to feel guilty because none of you are strong enough to survive this job? For God's sake, what kind of losers are you? It's pretty clear you're all renegade bastards, because no damn sect or clan would hire losers who can't stop fighting to their own advantage and comfort."
The fighter at the end roared in anger,"—You damn son of a—!"
Huo-Huo shouted with authority,"ENOUGH!"
He struck the roof with his leg, and the caravan wavered."If you want to kill each other, do it after we cross this road. We aren't here for that. We were hired to defend this caravan, and we knew we'd face this. If anyone wants to withdraw, let them do so before crossing this path. Either you die now with your comrades, or you die at the hands of those beasts."
"So, behave yourselves."
The situation had escalated rapidly. Huo-Huo tried to maintain order despite the outbursts. He did not retaliate but continued issuing commands with authority.
Everyone opposed Han-Lee's comments, but he, unaffected, kept fanning the flames. Soon, the others began to fight among themselves, blaming one another for Han-Lee's provocation.
Huo-Huo ended up surrendering, his gaze fixed ahead—someone had to keep an eye on the front.
Only Fungi remained watching the forest, alert for any presence. He kept noticing disturbing movements, though, mute, he could not warn anyone. He grabbed Huo-Huo's shoulder forcefully—he knew something was approaching at high speed.
Before Huo-Huo could speak, a violent impact struck, overturning the wagons with brutal force and sending everyone flying from the roof.
A massive boulder struck the caravan hard. Fungi slammed against the mountainside, sustaining a severe wound to his shoulder. He tried to cry out, but the spell was nearly complete. He forced himself to finish it, no matter what happened—at least then he could act as if he were dead and let the others take over.
Meanwhile, some mercenaries—unlucky ones—were mutilated, and two of the end defenders died instantly.
Han-Lee, who had seemingly sensed the boulder before impact, tried to slice at it—but to no avail. One of his arms was dislocated from the force; his sword was chipped, and his legs fared no better—he could feel one of the bones in his foot dislocate.
Huo-Huo, like Fungi, was further from the impact; although he didn't suffer significant damage, his fate was akin to Fungi's. Yet he did not appear physically affected.
Before anyone could react further, the cries of the silver-furred monkeys began to sound—almost like a chant.
And a great presence had arrived on the road.