CHAPTER 57 - WARLORDS UNDERGROUND (Patreon)

The tension in the air was thick, pressing down on the group like the weight of the buried ruins around them. The three Great Warriors blocking their path didn’t shift, didn’t even flinch. Their essence was already stirred, flowing beneath their skin, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

Marlos, on the other hand, looked amused.

And Zamian was unconcerned.

‘I need to talk with Marlos about his past. This is getting too ridiculous, too fast.’

One of the Great Warriors, the lead of the three, stepped forward. His jaw clenched. “After what you did, after what you caused—”

Marlos let out a slow, deep chuckle. “Ohohoho. You mean you guys were happy under that bastard’s rule?” His smirk widened. “Or are you lot still blaming me for what happened next?”

Paul, standing behind Marlos with the other outsiders who found Zamian, scoffed. “You killed the Ruler before the Sultan stepped in! Oasis nearly collapsed because of what you did! My grandparents almost died!”

Marlos tilted his head. “And yet, here you are, alive to complain about it.”

Peter took a step forward. “We were starving! And when the Sultan took over—”

Marlos cut him off, his smirk widening into a grin. “Oh, you mean Marcus?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Call him by his name.”

Zamian corked an eyebrow. 

‘What a great naming sense his parents have.’

But the effect of Marlos’ mockery was immediate. The three Great Warriors stiffened.

“The Sultan,” the lead warrior spat.

Marlos merely laughed. “Ohohoho! Listen to yourselves. Sultan this, Sultan that—‘Oh, may the Sultan guide us, praise the Sultan, bow before the almighty Sultan!’” He mimicked in a dramatic, whining tone before rolling his shoulders. “You lot worship him like he’s a god. But I remember when he was just my annoying fearful little brat.”

The lead warrior’s expression darkened. “Watch your tongue.”

Marlos tilted his head. “Or what?”

The three Great Warriors tensed.

Behind them, Paul, Peter, Joshua, and even the still-injured Edmund stood still, their essence shifting, their postures uneasy. None of them had forgotten what happened to Edmund earlier. Marlos hadn’t even touched him before shattering his legs.

Zamian, carrying Tulip, adjusted his hold slightly. He glanced at Kurt, whose fingers were twitching near the strap of his satchel, and then at Bohlo, who was pulling their outsider friend a little, with Nature’s essence flowing inside his body.

‘Don’t worry, Bohlo. They aren’t stupid enough to fight now.’

Before Zamian could say anything to reassure his friend and Tulip, the Warrior Chosen exhaled through his nose, and took a step forward.

“I’m going with you to the Oasis.”

The lead warrior’s eyes narrowed. “Then you’ll wait until Warlords arrive to escort us.”

Marlos said coldly. “No.”

With another spike of essence, the bald man tightened the grip around the wooden halberd’s shaft.

The Great Warriors in front of them barely had time to react.

With a single movement, Marlos’ halberd cut through the air, green essence flooding the space like a tidal wave.

Zamian shifted his stance, adjusting Tulip against his chest as the wave of Nature’s energy exploded through the corridor, flooding the air with the scent of leaves and fresh earth, the walls cracking under the invisible blow.

The fight was over in an instant.

The three Great Warriors never even got to counter.

With that single attack, one of them went crashing into the cracked stone wall, his body limp before he hit the ground. The second warrior didn’t even blink, a sharp crack rang through the passage, as he hit the floor with a strangled gasp.

The last warrior moved to lift his arm when the green wave sent him hurtling backward, skidding across the ground, motionless.

The three were out cold.

Green essence still flickered in the air, swirling around Marlos like a storm.

He let his halberd rest once more against his shoulder before glancing back.

Paul, Peter, Joshua, and Edmund didn’t move.

Marlos arched an eyebrow. “So, do you four want to try something funny, or are we walking?”

Paul swallowed hard. “...We’re walking.”

Marlos smirked. “Ohohoho. Good choice.”

He turned, picking up the light source from the wall and holding it aloft. Its small flame flickered, casting eerie shadows against the ruins as the group pressed forward.

Zamian followed, ignoring the sharp pulses of pain tearing through his back and chest. His body wasn’t weak. Carrying Tulip was nothing. But the wounds in his hands, his lower back, his ribs still burned.

He was holding himself together with Light’s essence and the Nameless Physique, but it wasn’t enough. His lungs stung with every breath. His fingers curled slightly, the cracked skin screaming with each shift. He needed time to heal.

‘I need to ask Marlos to stop a little for me to cultivate.’

But before he could speak, Marlos stretched his arms, his voice carrying through the tunnel.

“Ohohoho.” He glanced at Zamian. “Thinking of stopping?”

Zamian nodded, knowing his slowing steps gave the Warrior Chosen the clue.

Marlos chuckled, then shook his head. “No resting. Every second we waste, more Warlords gather. If they pin us down in these tunnels, we’ll be buried alive.”

Zamian clenched his jaw. 

‘I didn’t think about that. Maybe I and Marlos could survive, but if whoever comes has a power like the vermin Ruen, then the others would die before I moved.’

Worst, even if it wasn’t a surprise attack and they fought here, in this wreckage, in his current state, Zamian knew the odds weren’t good.

‘This isn’t an option.’

Adjusting Tulip in his arms, he forced his body forward.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. The tunnels, a mess of ancient ruins and collapsed structures, stretched endlessly downward. Some pathways led to open spaces, strange rooms filled with nothing but cracked floors and shattered remnants of a past long buried. Others twisted and spiraled, forcing them to weave through the wreckage of what had once been a city.

As Marlos and the outsiders, experienced in traveling underground, avoided breaking anything and creating other passages, Zamian was also careful.

Time passed, and after running for hours, Zamian willed the White Dot to show his stats.

PERSONAL INFORMATION  

Name: Zamian Greenfield   Level: 4 [16%]Tier: Mortal  Main Pathway: KnowledgeTitle: Insightful

STATS 

Body: 360/24000Mind: 9000/26000Soul: 4000/24000

‘Another ten hours. Another hundred body points lost.’

They stood on a cracked, grayish floor, surrounded by towering ruins. Broken structures loomed above, the ceiling swallowed by collapsed buildings.

Zamian glanced down. Tulip breathed evenly, curled against him, fast asleep. She had been silent for hours. He had adjusted his stance, his pace, and everything he could to keep from disturbing her.

Besides, no one was speaking.

The outsiders were too fearful to break the silence. Kurt scanned the shadows with cautious eyes. Bohlo, still adjusting to his breakthrough, had Soho to worry about. Tulip slept, and Zamian… Zamian was too focused on the pain gnawing at his body and the tension creeping through his instincts to speak.

Then, it came.

A spike of essence. There and gone in an instant.

Marlos stretched, rolling his shoulders with a lazy smirk, making everyone stop along with him. “Ohohoho. Visitors are coming.”

Zamian frowned. His senses flared.

‘Where?’

The Warrior Chosen chuckled. “Don’t worry, little ones. It’s just two weaklings and a bored guy.”

Zamian clicked his tongue. He didn’t want to be too reliant on Marlos. He needed to confirm it himself.

Carefully, he lowered Tulip to the ground. His eyes flickered, white light swirling within. 

He conjured Luminous Senses. And pain lanced through his skull.

His vision blurred, his chest tightened, and he was forced to release the technique almost instantly. But even in that brief moment, his instincts locked onto the truth.

By hearing the mental sound spheres and seeing the flow of essence in a single moment with his enhanced eyes, he got a better picture of the situation.

‘There are more.’

Beyond the three ahead, deeper in the ruins, three more moved. They weren’t approaching, but waiting. Their essence blended into the shattered walls, their bodies shifting, as if the ruins were swallowing them.

Zamian exhaled sharply, his voice low. “You’re wrong.”

Marlos raised a brow.

“It’s not just three.” Zamian turned toward the twisting tunnel. “The others… they’re further in, moving through the walls like water.”

Marlos’ eyes darkened. His grip on the halberd tightened.

“If I’m right,” Zamian continued, adjusting his stance, “then we’re about to deal with four Warlords.”

A pause.

Then, Marlos laughed. “Ohohoho. They must respect me much more than I thought.”

Zamian sighed, feeling the weight of the coming fight settle into his bones.

“We can’t fight here, Marlos.” His fingers brushed against Tulip’s hair, as he crouched beside her. “Not with the outsiders in our back. Not with my friends here.”

Marlos took a step forward, his smirk widening. “We won’t be fighting, little one.”

Zamian looked up.

Marlos rested his halberd against his shoulder. “You stay here. Protect your friends.” His single eye gleamed as it flickered toward the outsiders huddled near Zamian. Then, without another glance, he turned forward. “I’ll go talk to those guys. They must be bored to come up here. Ohohoho.”

He laughed, stepping into the darkness.

Zamian clenched his fists. Pain surged through his body, his wounds throbbing in protest. 

Yet, watching Marlos walk ahead, so relaxed, so sure of himself, Zamian chuckled.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.

His gaze shifted to the outsiders.

They were still. Their wide eyes flickered with something dangerous. 

Hope.

“Hey.”

Zamian’s voice cut through the quiet, low but firm. The four outsiders flinched, their attention snapping to him.

His smirk was cold. “Aren’t you guys curious why he left without knocking you all out?”

The light source they had picked up a long back was flickering, casting long shadows across Zamian’s face.

“He didn’t want me following him. Didn’t want me in danger.” Zamian chuckled, rolling his shoulder. “Marlos underestimates me too much.”

Paul clenched his fists. The Warrior Chosen had already vanished beyond the corner.

“But the real question is…”

Zamian’s eyes flared, Light’s essence making them glow white.

“Will you underestimate me too?”