The air in the Horsin mangroves was thick enough to chew. It smelled of rotting vegetation and stagnant water.

  Alaric and the 1st Battalion of the Thorne Knight Order moved like ghosts through the twisted trees. They were the vanguard, pushing miles ahead of the main force of 30,000 troops. Their objective was to sever the arteries of the Buckland invasion, the supply depots lining the main road before the main army even arrived.

  "I swear, if the Bucklanders don't kill me, these mosquitoes will," Grand Captain Bristane grumbled, slapping a buzzing insect on his neck. His boots made a wet sucking sound with every step. "Why does the South have to be so wet?"

  Vice-Commander Selzer, walking beside him, wiped sweat from his brow. "Quiet, Bristane. Though I admit... I miss the dry air of the training grounds."

  Alaric, leading the formation, suddenly raised a fist.

  The entire column of one hundred elite knights froze instantly, blending into the shadows of the canopy.

  "I feel them," Alaric whispered. His mana pulse had returned a clear image. "Two hundred meters ahead. A forward base camp, roughly two hundred and fifty men."

  "Alert level?" Selzer asked, hand drifting to his sword.

  "Zero," Alaric said cold. "They are playing cards, sleeping, and drinking."

  Alaric signaled the tactical spread. "Surround them. Full circle. On my mark."

  The knights moved with practiced efficiency. Within ten minutes, the Buckland supply camp, a collection of tents and wagons in a clearing was completely encircled by the hidden Thorne Knights.

  The enemy soldiers were indeed unsuspecting. They laughed around cookfires, their weapons leaning against trees, completely unaware that the reaper had arrived.

  Alaric stood behind a thick mangrove root, looking down at the heavy metal tube in his hands. The knights around him held similar weapons, the "Shotguns."

  This mechanism was something used in his previous world.

  Each knight took a metal bullet, about an inch long, and loaded it into the breech. They snapped the chamber shut, engaging the seal. Inside the chamber, behind the bullet, was a dual-trigger magic circle. When the switch was pulled, a flame spell and a water magic spell activated simultaneously in a confined space.

  The result was instantaneous pressure change. The water turned to superheated steam in a fraction of a second, expanding its volume by 400 times. Trapped in the sealed chamber, that pressure had only one way to go. Pushing the metal bullet through the tube pathway of the gun. The bullet flew off…..

  Supersonic velocity.

  Alaric checked his own weapons, the dual pistols. They were even more advanced. He didn't carry ammo. Inside the barrel, an Earth Magic circle generated a perfectly shaped granite bullet using his mana. As the trigger was pulled, three spells simultaneously activated. Two for launching the bullet like “Shotgun” and a third spell wrapped the bullet in a wind magic called Vacuum Field, removing all air resistance.

  No friction or drag. Just the pure kinetic energy approaches hypersonic speeds.

  "Three," Alaric whispered.

  The knights raised their weapons.

  "Two."

  The unsuspecting Buckland soldiers continued to laugh.

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  "One."

  Alaric shot the first shot, the sound acted as a signal to the rest of the knights.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

  The jungle erupted in a singular, deafening roar. A hundred jets of vapor hissed from the tree line.

  In the camp, chaos reigned instantly. One hundred Buckland soldiers, nearly half the force, dropped dead in the same second.

  "Ambush!" someone screamed, but it was too late.

  "Clear them out!" Alaric ordered, stepping from the cover.

  He walked. A Buckland sergeant, wide-eyed with terror, charged him with a spear.

  Alaric raised his right gun. Snap.

  The granite bullet, moving so fast it was invisible, vaporized the man's torso before the sound of the shot even registered.

  The Thorne Knights stormed the camp, switching to swords to finish the survivors. It was a massacre. The Buckland troops, terrified by the "Weapons," broke rank and tried to flee, only to be cut down.

  "Secure the perimeter!" Selzer shouted, slicing a soldier down. "Check for officers!"

  Within minutes, the camp was silent, save for the groans of the dying.

  "Prisoners?" Bristane asked, looking at the handful of surrendered men kneeling in the mud.

  "We are a mobile unit," Alaric said, his voice devoid of warmth. "We have limited rations and we need speed. We cannot drag prisoners through a swamp."

  Bristane stiffened. "So we just leave them?"

  "No," Alaric said. "We interrogate one and kill the rest."

  He walked over to a trembling officer, grabbing him by the collar.

  "The next base," Alaric demanded. "Where is it?"

  For the next two days, the 1st Battalion became a phantom plague.

  They moved up the supply road, dismantling one forward operating base after another. The strategy was always the same. Overwhelming firepower from the shadows, followed by a ruthless purge.

  But Selzer and Bristane began to notice a change in their vice-Captain.

  In every camp, after the slaughter, Alaric would drag the highest-ranking survivor into a tent. The screams that followed were harrowing. He wasn't asking for supply routes anymore.

  "Where is he?" Alaric roared, slamming a bloodied Buckland lieutenant against a crate in the third camp they cleared. "Where is General Marius Vallen?"

  "I... I don't know!" the man sobbed. "Please!"

  Bang.

  Alaric walked out, reloading his mana via a potion. His eyes were burning with a terrifying light.

  "Alaric," Selzer said cautiously, approaching him. "Why are you hunting Vallen specifically? Our orders are to disrupt the supply chain."

  "He is the target," was all Alaric said, marching past him. "We should move out. Next camp."

  They reached a fortified outpost near the edge of the plains, dangerously close to where the main Buckland Army was rumored to be massing.

  The battle here was fiercer, but the steam weapons were simply too devastating. The Thorne Knights breached the walls and slaughtered the garrison.

  Alaric found a senior logistical officer trying to burn documents. He pinned the man to the floor, placing the cold barrel of his pistol against the man's temple.

  "Marius Vallen," Alaric hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Tell me where he is, and I will make it quick. Lie to me, and I will let the swamp leeches finish you."

  The officer, looking into the eyes of a demon.

  "The... The Southern Flank!" the officer stammered. "I heard the officers talking! General Vallen has been assigned to lead the Southern Flank!"

  Alaric pressed the gun harder. "Troop count?"

  "Fifty thousand!" the man cried. "He has fifty thousand men holding the southern line! That's all I know! I swear!"

  Alaric pulled back. A dark, twisted satisfaction settled over his face.

  "Fifty thousand," Alaric whispered to himself. "And he is leading them."

  He stood up, holstering his weapon. He finally had it. The location of the man who ordered the burning of Shuru. The man who killed his parents.

  "Alaric?" Selzer asked, watching Alaric’s expression with concern.

  "We have him," Alaric said, his voice dripping with venom. "We proceed to join the main force."

  The Knights began to torch the camp.

  But in the chaos of the fire, none of them looked toward the northern tree line.

  A single Buckland soldier, bloodied and mud-covered, had managed to crawl through a drainage ditch during the assault. He pulled himself out, staring back at the burning camp and the black-armored knights wielding death.

  Terror gripping his heart, the survivor turned and sprinted into the darkness, running toward the main Buckland forces.

  He had to warn the General’s. The Devil was coming.