Chapter 82: Response

Several soldiers stood guard tightly in front of the main tent at the center of the camp, while the few serfs who had miraculously escaped were brought inside.

Apart from Sir Philip and his knights maintaining order outside, all the camp’s leaders had gathered here.

Two injured serfs lay on a soft mat, their backs and arms scratched to varying degrees. Because of the corrupting influence of dark magic, their fresh wounds had already begun to fester badly. Fortunately, the camp now had a druid. Pittman, the old healer, was treating them with his concocted potions and the druid’s purifying spells. The two unlucky serfs had at least been saved from death.

The other two serfs, uninjured but trembling all over, stood before Gawain. Fear still gripped their hearts; even though they had returned safely to camp, their bodies shook uncontrollably. But having survived the disaster months ago, they still had enough courage to speak clearly.

“After… after entering the mountain, we took a westward fork… monsters—those blood-red demons—there were several of them. We ran straight into them!” one serf stammered. “We ran for our lives, but Tork was caught. He was gone in no time…”

Sir Byron, standing beside Gawain, frowned at the chaotic report. “Several? How many is several? Where exactly was this westward fork? Those monsters are fast—how did you manage to escape?”

The two serfs were startled by the knight’s stern questioning and became even more flustered. Gawain quickly intervened. “Don’t press them like that. When they get nervous, they can’t explain anything clearly. You two, relax and tell me how you got away.”

They exchanged a glance. One swallowed nervously. “At first, the monsters didn’t seem to notice us. They were just… wandering along the mountain path. They only chased us after we started running. The path was narrow, and some monsters got stuck on the rocks, so we managed to escape…”

“How many monsters did you see? Be specific,” Hetty asked.

“Three… no, four,” the other serf counted on his fingers. “At first, we only saw three, but then a fourth caught up.”

“So you only saw part of them,” Hetty said, glancing at Gawain with concern. “There are probably many more.”

“Wandering…” Gawain pinched his chin, frowning deeply. He recalled the “giant planet activity parameters” collected via satellite surveillance over the past two days. There had been no alerts about increased giant planet activity or surges of magical energy recently. So how did these monsters appear? Where did they come from?

At that moment, Pittman, who had been treating the wounded, finally finished his spell. He stood and exhaled deeply. “These two are going to be fine… with the potion I made and the druid’s purification, now it’s just a matter of rest. As long as they don’t get infected again, they’ll recover in a few days.”

Though this old man usually wandered the camp freeloading, selling useless potions, and pretending to divine the future, his druidic skills were real. Gawain was genuinely grateful for his presence now and nodded sincerely. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re paid for this—saying thanks just costs money,” Pittman waved his hand. “But I have to warn you: I can heal these two, but I can’t fix the panic of the other eight hundred outside. These four ran back screaming and crying. The injured ones made even more noise. The whole camp probably knows by now…”

Gawain looked at the seemingly unreliable old man with a deep, grateful gaze. He hadn’t needed the reminder, but it was timely.

“Hetty, arrange this: all exploration and gathering outside the camp stops today. Engineering inside the camp continues as usual. Food distribution remains normal. Maintaining order is the top priority. Sir Byron, take men and strengthen patrols—shine your armor and weapons. Also, tell Sir Philip to arm the newly recruited militia.”

After giving orders, Gawain turned to Amber. “You…”

Before he could finish, Amber blurted out, “If I say no, will you use that big sword of yours to pin me to the wall?”

“I will. And it won’t come off.”

Amber pouted. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“I haven’t finished,” Gawain stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

Amber’s eyes widened in surprise. Hetty quickly added, “My lord, you should stay in camp—going after those monsters on your own is too…”

“Too what?” Gawain shot Hetty a glance. “Have you forgotten what I did seven hundred years ago because I’ve been holed up here drawing blueprints?”

Everyone in the tent froze, suddenly remembering the fighting prowess of this ancient lord.

Lately, Gawain had been buried in design plans and strange alchemical formulas, and they had almost forgotten his true profession—hunting monsters along the kingdom’s borders!

It was a good thing Gawain hadn’t told anyone about his “level drop” in recent years. Now, just his presence inspired a strange confidence in those around him.

“If there are really only three or four mutants wandering the mountain, I’ll take them out easily. If there’s a whole horde, Amber and I can still get out alive and return in time to set up defenses—or lead you all to retreat,” Gawain said with the expression of someone saying, “Don’t panic, this is just a technical adjustment. Trust me, the old lord will carry you through.” He glanced at the two serfs standing before him. “As for you two… I need you to lead the way.”

The serfs nearly collapsed, sobbing. “Please, my lord, no! We don’t want to die! Those monsters eat people!”

Having lived through the Cecil disaster firsthand, their fear was far greater than those who only heard rumors.

Especially since they had just barely escaped death today.

But Gawain had to make them face those monsters again—if necessary, the entire territory would have to confront them.

“Stand up. You will lead the way. This is a direct order from your lord,” Gawain said firmly. “And don’t worry about your safety. I will fulfill my noble duty and protect you until you return safely.”

The two serfs exchanged a glance. They knew exactly what “noble duty” meant—the kind of thing nobles preached daily but rarely meant. When life and death came, the lives of lowly serfs were worth nothing compared to their lords.

Still… disobeying a lord’s order was a dead end.

Seeing their hesitation, Gawain said calmly, “I am Gawain Cecil, the legendary who killed hundreds of thousands of magic tide monsters seven hundred years ago. Do you really think there are tens of thousands of monsters in those mountains waiting to kill you? If monsters really come, being with me is the safest place.”

Gawain’s thinking was simple: no one here could beat him anyway, so why not boast?

Uneducated serfs were easy to believe such boasts, especially since the legend of Gawain Cecil was well known throughout the kingdom. Hearing the living legend speak so calmly reassured them. Even if monsters appeared, their lord would protect them—it was just a matter of course.

Since it was just a matter of course, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Finally, they nodded in agreement.

Hetty called in two soldiers to escort the four serfs—including the two just treated—to rest and eat. Then she turned to Gawain. “My lord, you don’t really need to explain so much. For them, obeying orders is basic.”

“But it’s better to have them obey willingly than by force,” Gawain waved his hand and looked at Rebecca. “How’s the progress on the ‘art’?”

To him, this was the most urgent matter.

Rebecca hesitated, then reported honestly, “The crystal granules are still being produced, and output is increasing. We’ve accumulated a large stockpile. We’ve made some explosive arrays and rune triggers, but there’s no progress on delayed detonation yet—no finished products.”

Hetty knew what Gawain was thinking and frowned. “If those monsters really are heading this way, we probably won’t have time to use the ‘art’.”

“No… delayed detonation is just one method, not the only one,” Gawain mused briefly, then shook his head. “Rebecca, find some craftsmen and hunters who know how to make traps. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

Rebecca nodded without hesitation. “Understood!”

Only then did Sir Byron speak up. “Are you planning to have the camp fight those monsters?”

“That’s just a backup plan. How we respond depends on what Amber and I find out about the monsters,” Gawain said thoughtfully. “By the way, Byron, write a notice… say that mutants have been found in the mountains and their movements are being tracked. Since Duke Gawain Cecil has extensive experience dealing with mutants, there’s no need to worry. Everyone should continue working calmly. Whether to stay or evacuate, wait for further orders. Also, find two literate soldiers to read the notice aloud.”

Byron nodded to carry out the order. Hetty’s eyes widened in shock. “My lord, you really want to tell the common folk… that mutants exist?”

“They already know,” Gawain glanced at Hetty. “When those four serfs came running back screaming, everyone knew—just not the full truth.”

Hetty hesitated. “What if we tell them everything…”

“Then they’ll stop guessing wildly and imagining worse scenarios,” Gawain said. “The clearer and more certain we are, the sooner panic and rumors will end. Hiding the truth only makes things worse.”

Hetty nodded reluctantly. “You’re right.”

“Amber, get ready,” Gawain took a deep breath. “We’re going out to see for ourselves where those monsters came from.”

(How many chapters should I update today…)

(End of chapter)