Chapter 293: The Trap Within The Darkness

"Achoo!"

Jagra rubbed his nose with his sleeve. He could stand the freezing cold anymore. It was already too dark to see, and the cold was beyond annoying. He couldn't stop shivering. But he thinks it is a good thing. He would be able to stay awake, being bothered by the freeze and the frightening darkness around him. He gripped the hidden dagger strapped to the side of his waist as he walked. The sound of his steps was the only loud thing that entered his ears. Everything else was ominously quiet as though deathly energy has enveloped the dark woods.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Jagra turned to his side, finally realizing that he wasn't walking alone. The silver eyes beauty walked to his side, gripping the hilt of his sword vigilantly. Jagra sniffed and exhaled a shuddering breath. "I'm freezing and worried."

Silver eyes blinked. Moulin helplessly looked at him. "I know. But we have to keep moving. We're separated from the others, but it doesn't mean you are alone. I am here with you."

Jagra sighed and nodded. "Yes, it just annoys me that I'm the only person who's shivering here."

Moulin chuckled and comforted him with a few pats on his back. The young aphrodite then lowered his head, noticing the little beast in his bag, poking out its head and sniffing the air.

'Snow senses something,' Moulin thought as he raised his gaze with narrowed eyes. Jagra was quick to notice Moulin's abrupt caution. He quickly stepped closer to his friend, gripping the knives within his cloak, and surveyed the area carefully.

They only have each other and their senses to rely on in getting through the woods. It was already concerning enough that they had to split when they enter the woods, pitch black, enveloped by darkness. Jagra hoped they wouldn't be facing something massive and terrifying tonight, but he guessed that would never be the case.

Snap!

Moulin abruptly widened his eyes as a whooshing sound rapidly headed towards them. He instantly raised his hand to stop Jagra from moving another step forward. And in the next second, a flash of metal whizzed from the side, shooting right before their eyes. Instead of piercing their necks, it hit the tree when it missed its target with a loud stab.

Jagra jerked back cautiously. His eyes began to sweep around the area. However, he could not see anything.

"Jagra, they're here," Moulin whispered. He took out his sword and raised his gaze. Snow was growling, but he stayed in his master's bag, awaiting Moulin's command.

"What's here?" Jagra said with knees bent, ready to hurl his weapons.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

The sound of boots heavily landing on the leaf-covered ground noised around the two maeruthans. The sound of heavy footsteps followed.

Moulin guessed three people.

Clink!

Suddenly, a bright light flashed—the tiny flame of a small lighter. It was small but bright enough to reveal the figures. Moulin and Jagra briefly squinted their eyes, allowing their vision to adjust to the exposure of the light.

"Well, what do we have here?" A gruff voice spoke. The man pulled down his hood and tilted his head, revealing his heavily bearded face. He stepped a little too close to Moulin, allowing the youth to smell the putrid breath of the man.

The man raised his brows, "I thought it was one of those darn foreigners, but this is way better!" He grinned, flashing his uneven teeth.

Suddenly, the other two hurriedly when to grab Moulin and Jagra. However, Moulin swiftly raised his sword and swung it before him, making the three back away a few steps. Jagra glared as he revealed his daggers, spinning them in his hands.

"Tsk! They're one of those uniformed people from the tower!" One of the two said. "I knew more of them were coming!"

"Shut your mouth, you fool, unless you want to bring a horde of those blood-sucking monsters to us." The bearded man said harshly. He didn't seem to be affected by Moulin and Jagra's defensive display. He knew right away that they were skilled.

But then again, there were only just two of 'em.

"Who are you? What did you do to the people of the outpost?" Moulin questioned with cold eyes. "Where are they?"

"Now, hold on, young man." The bearded man said, waving the lighter in his hand. "You're not in the position to ask questions here."

"I already know about the rest of your sneaking bastards. They might as well show themselves." Moulin lifted his chin, gesturing to the trees

The bearded man paused briefly. He glanced at his two men before snorting.

"...Well." He raised both of his hands. "As you wish."

The moment his words sank in the air, numerous thuds sounded around the two maeruthans. All of them fell from the high branches of the treetops, landing successfully as if they have done this a million times already. Some were hooded while others were not, revealing their scarred faces. Moulin counted up to eight of them.

They circled Moulin and Jagra like a pack of wolves analyzing their prey, allowing no chance of escape. Jagra faltered a bit, seeing that they were outnumbered. However, he didn't lower his weapons.

Seeing that Moulin remained unaffected by the number of them, the bearded man chuckled. "Now, young man. We won't hurt. You just have to come with us. You see, we cannot return empty-handed again. My men have their needs. You understand, right?"

Moulin glanced around him, eyeing the people around them. "Is this all of your men?"

The bearded man cocked an eyebrow, "Do you need more to restrain those pretty limbs of yours? Unfortunately, they are all who came to stay with this old man. Don't worry. You'll have more company to where we'll take you."

Some of the men snickered while the others only turned away.

This time, Moulin and Jagra lowered their weapons. Jagra was even sighing in relief as he dropped his blades. The bearded man knitted his brows, founding their surrender too easy. He was expecting a fight. They didn't look that weak to deal with.

Moulin's silver eyes swept around him before drifting to the leader before him. "Thank you for being quite cooperative." Even if it was incredibly useless.

"What?"

Before he could finish, Moulin once again raised how sword and flicked the lighter off his hand. The light was instantly smoldered by the dirt on the ground, leaving them in total darkness.

Whoosh!

"Agh!"

"Mmf!"

"We're being- Nngff!"

A series of thuds resounded throughout the dark. Bodies dropped on the ground along with numerous footsteps.

It didn't take long for silence to sink.

Clink!

With a groan, the bearded man winced at the light of his own lighter. However, it wasn't him holding it. Instead, it was the silver-eyed young man he had threatened who was crouching before his tied self. Moulin's face looked incredibly beauteous, yet he also looked as if he could end your life with a snap. Tilting his head, Moulin spoke. "Comfortable?"

Moulin raided the lighter and revealed all his ten men, tied and gagged. Bruises and blood covered their faces, and some were disfigured. Ghana kicked the last man to the ground, thing him securely. The rest of the group stepped away, surrounding Moulin and the leader.

The bearded man's pupils quivered at the sight. Where did all these people come from?

"It looks like you're the one caught in the trap. Well done." Moulin said before he rose from the ground, patting the dust off his knees.

"Moulin." Emlen hurried to his brother with an anxious face. Even until he reached his brother, the anxiety and dread in his expression never faded. He didn't want his brother to become bait at all. It was his little brother who suggested the idea.

"Are you alright?" Emlen asked.

Moulin nodded. "I'm fine, brother."

He drew the lighter away as he let Emlen examine him.

Suddenly, Moulin stopped as a particular lord walked towards him. His golden eyes were deep. "Well done."

Moulin raised an eyebrow before he raised his heels and kissed the side of Hadrian's lips. "Thanks for trusting me." He whispered before he pulled away.

Emlen: "..."

"Not bad." Ghana whistled as Jagra, still shivering, approached her.

"I'm still freezing." He complained.

Afterwards, Hadrian commanded them to clean the thieves from all the weapons they carried on their bodies. The men stripped them of their blades and pouches until they sat defenseless on the forest floor. Their mouths were stuffed with a piece of cloth tied around their heads. As all the hooded were exposed, Moulin and the others found out some were women and teenagers. They looked frustrated and scared.

"You're not going to leave us to be eaten alive, are you?" The bearded man said once his gag was removed from his mouth.

Ghana shrugged as she kneeled at eye-level to the man before her. "That depends if you've killed one of our own." She then stood up and took a few steps back, allowing the High Lord and Moulin's brother to approach the man.

The bearded man lifted his head. His eyes are glancing at his men whose identities are exposed.

"Where do you come from?" Emlen asked. His grey eyes are sharpened by the faint orange light in Moulin's hand.

"..."

"Speak, or I'll cut your tongue." Emlen raised his hand as Ghana handed him a dagger.

The bearded man stared at the people surrounding his men. His expression was severe.

'It seems he does care about his men.' Moulin thought.

When the leader didn't reply even a single word, Hadrian stepped forward. His towering form and aura intimidated the tied-up bearded man. As he stared at those deep eyes of burning gold, he felt as if invisible hands were curling around his neck and squeezing the air out of him. He suppressed a shudder.

"Do you need the motivation to cooperate?" Hadrian spoke coldly. His eyes looked like knives, carving deep into the man's head.

Swallowing, the bearded man finally felt the threat. His eyes quickly darted to his men, and cold sweat fell from his brow.

"...clan," He muttered.

"Speak louder." Emlen pressed.

The bearded man abruptly raised his head. "Gaclan city..."

...

Gaclan... City?