Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 776: A Bear’s Revenge II

CH776 A Bear’s Revenge II

***

Bear paid the scene no further attention. His focus remained solely on the surviving elder.

Already missing an arm, the elder could barely withstand Bear’s heavy blows. After only a handful of exchanges, his sword was knocked from his grasp.

With a flash of steel, Bear’s blade swept across the elder’s throat.

The man’s body jerked violently.

He tried to speak, but no words came.

Blood poured freely from the thin slash in his neck, while even more flooded into his throat. He collapsed to the ground, desperately clutching at the wound as he choked on his own blood.

His consciousness faded quickly, mercifully sparing him from prolonged agony.

Whatever final words he had hoped to utter, Bear had no interest in hearing them.

The instant his sword completed its arc, Bear lunged forward again, already pursuing his next target.

At the same time, Eagle vanished.

She reappeared before the fleeing elder furthest from Bear.

Rather than killing him outright, she slashed through both of his legs.

The man screamed as he collapsed, permanently robbed of any chance of escape.

Soon, terrified screams echoed throughout the Winkler estate as Bear unleashed an unrelenting killing spree.

One by one, those who had attended the emergency meeting were hunted down.

Eventually… only one remained— the clan head’s son.

The heir apparent to the Winkler family.

Remarkably, even while fleeing for his life, the young man had not forgotten to steal Alain’s treasured pseudo-artifact sword.

He sprinted with every ounce of strength he possessed.

As long as he escaped the estate, he believed he could regroup, rally the remaining forces, and exact revenge upon Alain.

Alas…

Just as he came within a few dozen metres of the estate gates, he froze.

The gatekeeper guards lay scattered across the entrance, their lifeless bodies staining the ground crimson.

And waiting atop a nearby street pole… was the mysterious cloaked woman wearing the eagle mask.

An actual eagle perched calmly upon her shoulder.

A chill ran down the youth’s spine.

Through the eyeholes of the mask, a pair of cold red eyes stared down at him without the slightest trace of emotion.

Even more unsettling were the eagle’s eyes.

Their almost human-like crimson irises regarded him as though they were looking upon prey already condemned.

The youth’s legs gave way beneath him.

He fell onto his backside and instinctively began crawling away.

Then, his back bumped into something.

Or rather… Someone.

The youth slowly looked up to see what—or rather, who—stood behind him.

His soul nearly fled his body.

Towering over him was Alain’s familiar frame, now concealed behind a mask similar to the one worn by the mysterious cloaked woman.

Alain—or rather, Bear—looked down at the trembling youth and immediately noticed the treasured sword clutched tightly in his hands.

Another surge of fury erupted within him.

Like father, like son.

Just as the clan head had used him as a disposable weapon, now his son sought to steal the sword Alain had struggled so hard to obtain.

Without a word, Bear seized the youth by the throat and effortlessly lifted him until they were at eye level.

The young man’s legs kicked wildly as he clawed desperately at Bear’s iron grip, gasping for air.

No matter how frantically he struggled, he could not break free.

His movements gradually weakened.

Then stopped altogether.

Only after the youth had suffocated did Bear twist his wrist sharply.

Crack!

He snapped the neck cleanly for good measure.

Bear casually tossed the corpse aside as though discarding a piece of rubbish.

He then looked towards the woman standing atop the street lamp.

For a fleeting instant, he could have sworn the eagle perched upon her shoulder possessed almost human-like eyes.

Yet when he blinked and looked again, they were merely the sharp eyes of an ordinary bird of prey.

The eagle let out what almost sounded like a bored yawn before spreading its wings and soaring back into the night sky.

The eagle-masked woman performed a graceful front flip from the lamp post, landing soundlessly before Bear.

“Let’s go,” she said simply before turning back towards the estate.

“Where are we going?” Bear asked.

“To clean up…” Eagle replied.

“…and set the narrative.”

Bear frowned beneath his mask but followed without another question.

Within the next hour, Castin Town descended into complete chaos.

Its ruling powers had seemingly been wiped out overnight.

Two messengers mounted fresh horses and rode out of the town at full speed, each leading two spare mounts behind them as they raced towards Fonterra Bastide to report the disaster as quickly as possible.

Around midnight, a platoon of roughly fifty soldiers arrived from Fonterra under the personal command of the domain lord himself.

Upon entering Castin Town, Count Skywalker headed immediately to the estates of the five ruling families.

At each estate, he was greeted by the aftermath of a massacre.

And with every estate he visited the carnage became even more gruesome.

Count Skywalker was thoroughly enraged that such a massacre could occur within his domain mere days after he had assumed the position of domain lord.

He immediately ordered his troops to secure each crime scene, investigate every estate, and search for any trace the perpetrators might have left behind.

Meanwhile, he personally visited the surviving relatives of the victims across the five estates, offering words of comfort and promising to do everything within his power to help them recover from the tragedy.

As a powerful sorcerer in his own right, Count Skywalker’s calm yet commanding presence gradually settled the panic that had gripped Castin Town.

By the following morning, news spread through the settlement.

The count’s soldiers had found a survivor.

The strongest man in Castin Town…

Alain Winkler.

When they discovered him, Alain was gravely wounded. His entire left side was soaked in blood, forcing the soldiers to transport him back to town aboard a carriage.

Despite his condition, Alain stubbornly fought to remain conscious until he could speak with the count.

The moment he heard the report, Count Skywalker hurried to the town gates to receive the returning carriage.

At his command, the soldiers carefully helped Alain down.

A collective gasp swept through the gathered crowd. The injuries covering the Gold-ranked warrior’s left side were horrifying.

Had he not possessed the extraordinary vitality of a Gold-ranked combatant, such wounds would almost certainly have claimed his life.

The count turned towards one of his wives, who had arrived in Castin during the early hours of the morning.

She stepped forward and slowly raised both hands.

Soft mutterings escaped her lips in a language none of the onlookers could understand.

A warm golden radiance descended from the heavens, enveloping Alain’s battered body.

The bleeding gradually ceased and the horrific wounds visibly stabilised.

Even so, the treatment seemed to only preserved his life. He remained far too weak to stay awake.

Summoning the last of his strength, Alain weakly pulled a bloodstained strip of cloth from within his clothing and pressed it into the count’s hand.

Then, forcing each word through gritted teeth, he whispered,

“…Strong… Fortress… Marquis… Brandford…”

The final word barely left his lips before darkness claimed him.

He collapsed unconscious.

A ripple of alarm spread through the gathered townsfolk.

Count Skywalker’s countenance dropped.

Without another word, he immediately ordered the crowd dispersed while commanding his guards to escort Alain under heavy protection to the infirmary.

Within days, rumours born from Alain’s words spread throughout Castin Town before reaching every settlement across the Frontier March.

And with every retelling, unease throughout the domain only continued to grow.

***