Craig gave the towering, burly minotaur, who stood a full head taller than him, a deep, deliberate look, then nodded.
“I’ll only send two thousand warriors of the Lionmane Tribe to escort our spoils. The rest will continue to follow the prince and participate in this war.”
Hearing this, Karlist let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Very well. Open the gates. Let the warriors of the Lionmane Tribe pass.”
Flags waved atop the spired gate tower, and dozens of strong beastmen below began pushing the gate. The thick black gate, a full blade in thickness, slowly creaked open.
Craig’s expression remained unchanged. He pounded his chest in greeting once more toward Karlist, then stood by the stone-paved street, silently watching as cart after cart pulled by beastmen warriors passed through the gates.
Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly.
But after a dozen carts had passed, Karlist suddenly raised a hand and halted one.
“Stop. You, check it.”
That simple command caused Craig’s expression to tighten as he turned his head toward Karlist, whose face remained unchanged. A bad premonition rose in his heart.
Sure enough, the convoy of more than four hundred carts began to face random inspections, one every ten or so.
Although Craig’s face betrayed nothing, his anxiety grew with each passing moment.
Because the last hundred or so carts all carried goblins. Especially the fifty that held barrels, each cart loaded with at least ten oak barrels, and inside each barrel were three goblins.
If this pattern of inspection continued, it was only a matter of time before the goblins inside the barrels were discovered.
Once that happened, their ruse would be exposed, and a battle would be unavoidable.
Thinking of the consequences, Craig’s eyes grew colder and sharper.
Time ticked by, and with each passing cart, the air seemed to grow heavier.
Craig clenched his fists tightly, the corner of his eye locked on Karlist, who appeared defenseless but never once let go of the three-blade-tall great-axe gripped in his hand.
He could sense it, this burly minotaur was just like him: Level 16.
If the goblins were discovered, he would have to strike first. If he could kill the minotaur in a single blow, there might be a chance to force their way through the gate. If he failed, the Lionmane Tribe would be doomed.
There were at least five thousand soldiers stationed at the gate. If he couldn’t escape in time, the reinforcements would slaughter the entire Lionmane Tribe.
One cart after another passed inspection. When the convoy was halfway through and the checks still didn’t stop, Craig’s heart began to pound, thump thump, thump thump.
Every additional cart that made it through felt like a hammer striking his heart.
Craig quietly observed his surroundings.
Atop the towering thirty-five-blade-high city walls, more than a thousand beastmen stood aiming powerful crossbows at them, fingers seemingly ready to pull the trigger at any moment. Latest content publıshed on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚~𝙣𝙚𝙩
Countless other beastmen troops patrolled the surrounding streets under strict lockdown. Any hint of an enemy would bring down a storm of deadly force.
The semicircular gate was roughly ten blades wide and five blades tall. Both massive doors stood wide open, allowing the convoy to come and go freely.
If they could seize the gate immediately, there might be a sliver of hope.
Six thousand beastmen was no small force, but this city also housed a Behemoth.
If they failed to escape in time, Craig could fully envision the devastation they would face.
And just as he feared, when the convoy of food carts had passed, the first cart carrying oak barrels reached him and Karlist.
Craig remembered clearly, this was one of the carts carrying goblins. His heart leapt into his throat.
Just as that cart was about to pass, and Craig quietly let out a breath of relief, Karlist suddenly extended a hand.
“Stop. That one, stacked with barrels!”
He pointed directly at the first cart loaded with oak barrels, and instantly, the air seemed to freeze.
Craig’s claws slid out like razors, silently unsheathing. His cold eyes shimmered with a bone-chilling killing intent. His massive wolf head didn’t look at Karlist, but instead stared dead ahead at the stopped cart.
His voice came out hoarse.
“Lord Karlist, the Lionmane Tribe doesn’t have time to waste with you. Don’t delay me, I have tribesmen still on the front lines.”
Craig’s heart thundered in his chest, thump thump, thump thump, his body compressing like a coiled spring.
Surging power gathered within him, his muscles tightening like forged steel.
It seemed that in the next second, this terrifying Level 16 warrior in the midst of activating Berserk Mode would unleash a deadly, earth-shaking strike.
Karlist turned to look at the volatile aura surging off the wolfman beside him, then hesitated briefly before shaking his head.
“No, I have no intention of becoming enemies with the Lionmane Tribe. But... that cart must be inspected.”
With that single sentence, the killing intent that had been rising in Craig’s heart hit its peak.
By now, two minotaur warriors had approached the cart stacked with barrels. One had already climbed on top.
Without hesitation, the minotaur atop the cart swung his long blade at one of the barrel lids.
A fissure appeared on the lid, but it didn’t break open.
Even so, the sound struck Craig’s heart like a thunderclap.
Killing intent erupted in full force. He suddenly turned toward Karlist, the claws on his hand gleaming with a deadly chill like sharpened blades.
Just as Craig was about to strike.
A blazing fireball suddenly exploded onto a cart within the convoy.
Crack! The oak barrels filled with wheat ale burst open, and the alcohol ignited into roaring flames.
Craig, who had already taken a step forward, suddenly froze in place, turning his head just in time to see a figure soaring overhead with wings flapping in the night sky.
“Damn beastmen! You filthy, stupid creatures, how dare you loot my manor and my church!!!
You all deserve to die!!”
That voice, was that... Emi??