The barbarian archer sat on a tree branch, waiting for the foot soldiers to pass beneath his position so he could signal that everything was clear—when suddenly, everything went black.
Five minutes later, the foot soldiers passed through, receiving the "all clear" signal from the sniper of Chagrin's squad, who knew the barbarian signals thanks to information gathered by the first scout. The second sniper had also taken position at the post of the sleeping archer, courtesy of the second scout.
By the time the patrol passed, the stealth specialists of Chagrin's squad were already in position to eliminate the roaming guards. Within minutes, five barbarians were dead.
According to the scouts, fourteen barbarians occupied the tents between the outer and inner perimeters. The remaining six were stationed near the altar—one central barbarian performing a ritual of some sort, guarded by five elites.
This was where the ambush had to happen. Force chaos. Draw them out. Let the snipers thin them down one by one.
"There are seven of us," Chagrin said quietly, excluding the injured scout. "We attack simultaneously. Take down at least five while they're still dazed. The inner guards will arrive within three minutes. We have enough time. Do you understand?"
The soldiers nodded.
"Let's go."
Until now, Chagrin had been the mind of the squad. Now, he became its executioner.
He drew his service pistol—two rounds remaining—and a dagger. Slipping past the second wall, he hurled a smoke grenade into the nearest tent. A moment later, grunts echoed inside. One barbarian emerged.
Then another.
Chagrin fired. The first bullet tore through the skull of the first barbarian, dropping him instantly.
The second raised his head.
Chagrin fired again.
Nothing.
The gun jammed.
Without hesitation, Chagrin threw the pistol. It struck the barbarian harmlessly—but it was only a feint. The dagger followed a heartbeat later, burying itself in the barbarian's skull.
Elsewhere, two more barbarians fell.
Then pain exploded through Chagrin's ribs.
A barbarian burst from inside the tent and kicked him full force, sending him flying into the wall. He crashed down hard, ribs fracturing as he landed.
Barbarians were not called such because they were chaotic—but because they lived by the law of strength. They respected nothing else.
By the time Chagrin forced himself upright, the two soldiers he had brought with him were nearly dead. Shouts rose from the inner perimeter.
He signalled the snipers.
Five barbarians fell in quick succession.
Still not enough.
Of the seven soldiers who entered the ambush, only four remained standing. Two were dead beside Chagrin. One more lay elsewhere.
Five barbarians remained.
Two were his.
"Let's fight a barbarian, I guess."
Chagrin drew his sword and took a stance. The barbarian who had kicked him charged like a bull, terrifyingly fast.
The fuck is he doing? He knows I'll sidestep.
As if reading his thoughts, the barbarian grabbed him mid-movement and hurled him into the wall like a wrecking ram.
Blackness swallowed Chagrin for a moment.
He knew.
Chagrin fumbled out a needle and jammed it into his thigh.
Adrenaline surged.
"Always does the job."
The barbarian punched. Chagrin jammed his sword into the man's hand, slicing from knuckle to elbow. A scream erupted—
Bang.
The barbarian collapsed.
The sniper had stolen his kill.
"Bastard," Chagrin muttered. "Three marathons if we survive."
He turned.
Two more barbarians had arrived.
"Shit."
Two soldiers intercepted them while Chagrin engaged the third.
The barbarian's club rang against Chagrin's blade. Pain shot up his arm. A punch folded him sideways. Chagrin grabbed the barbarian's wrist, forced himself upright, and drove the sword into the side of the man's neck, slicing downward as they fell.
Dead.
Chagrin barely had time to breathe before he saw one of his soldiers about to fall.
Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he drew two daggers and leapt.
The barbarian looked up.
That was the last thing he saw.
Chagrin cleaned his blades and turned to the final barbarian. The man stared at him—blood-soaked, standing like a spectre. No human should have been able to stand after that much damage.
But Chagrin did.
As the barbarian charged, Chagrin signalled.
The sun crested the horizon.
A bullet struck the barbarian's temple. His head rolled to Chagrin's feet.
The snipers had clear sight of the entire ruins.
Chagrin picked up the head and hurled it toward the altar.
Shouts erupted from the inner perimeter.
Four left.
Three guards.
One priest.
The sunrise should have been beautiful. Instead, it bathed a slaughter.
"Why do you do this?" the priest asked, stepping forward. "Did we attack you? Did we deserve to die like animals?"
"These were my orders," Chagrin said flatly. "I executed them."
"You speak like a pawn," the priestess said calmly. "An expendable one."
"I don't care what I am," Chagrin replied. "As long as I climb."
"Then enjoy your last sunrise," she said softly.
The guards advanced.
"To hell with this," Chagrin growled. "I'll kill you even if I have to gnaw your hearts out."
They charged.
Chagrin ran toward the wall, rebounded off it, flipped behind them, and threw both daggers. One guard fell instantly. Another barely dodged.
Spears levelled at him.
"Why the stance?" Chagrin spat blood and injected his last dose. "Makes it easier for me."
His body screamed in protest.
They waited him out. Smart.
Chagrin nudged his fallen pistol closer with his foot as he circled. Sword in hand, he advanced.
A spear lunged.
He parried.
Another pierced his ribs.
Blood flooded his mouth.
He snapped the embedded spear, fell, grabbed the pistol—and fired.
The guard dropped.
As darkness closed in, Chagrin saw the scout charge the last barbarian.
Late bastard. if I wasn't dying, I would have killed him myself. Also, what happened to the snipers', by this point the Visibility was fairly good they did not need signals to shoot at great distances. So why have they not finished the last barbarian, so that the mission can be finished' Chagrin lost consciousness as he saw the last Barbarian die at the hands of the Scout.
The final guard fell.
Chagrin collapsed.
[You can't die yet.]