Devourer's Legacy: I Regressed With The Primordial Crest
Chapter 60: Who the hell is this Old man (1)

Chapter 60: Who the hell is this Old man (1)

It had been three days!

"That fucking coward! What the hell is he doing?" Marcus spat out in frustration, his patience finally reaching its breaking point.

Three days had passed since Renard had extorted money from Elenor, but despite getting what he wanted, the bastard hadn’t left Gia’s Castle territory. Instead, he had been leisurely eating well and sleeping comfortably in a local tavern, showing no signs of moving back toward Grim territory.

This had forced Marcus and the hired mercenaries, who were lying in wait in the valley, to remain hidden in the harsh mountain terrain for the past three days. And still, there was no sign of the target making his move.

Marcus would have really liked to storm into the tavern and slit Renard’s throat personally, if not for the fact that the young lady would have to deal with the political aftermath of such a direct action.

But even considering that restraint, his patience was rapidly running out.

Just at that moment, one of the scouts who had been keeping watch on Renard appeared at their hidden position.

"Sir Marcus, that bastard is finally moving, but..." The annoyance could be felt in his words alone, showing how much he resented Renard for making them work longer than planned.

"But what?" Marcus demanded impatiently.

"He’s not alone. There’s one guard and an old man who seem to be accompanying him now."

Marcus was somewhat taken aback by this news. From the intelligence he had received, Renard had arrived at Gia’s Castle completely alone. There had been no one accompanying him during his visit, but now there were suddenly two additional people.

However, this development didn’t really change anything fundamental about their plans.

"A guard and an old man, you say? Well, too bad for them," he said coldly as murderous intent began radiating from the hidden positions around him.

"I suppose we can afford to bury a few more bodies without any significant problems."

There were exactly twenty-eight mercenaries lying in ambush along with him, positioned strategically throughout the valley. Most of them were at the Master Zone—skilled fighters who could handle multiple opponents. No matter what unexpected complications arose, today they absolutely had to eliminate Renard permanently.

* * *

The carriage finally reached the valley entrance. Marcus and his men had been waiting for this moment.

The plan was simple.

Twenty-eight fighters were spread out through the narrow valley. Some hid in the bushes along the path, covered with leaves and branches. Others sat up in the trees, ready to drop down or shoot arrows. A few more crouched behind rocks and fallen logs.

The idea was to let the carriage go deep into the valley where it would be trapped. Once they reached the narrowest part, Marcus would signal, and everyone would attack at once.

The guys in the trees would jump down while the ones on the ground came out of hiding. With the valley walls on both sides and enemies everywhere, there’d be nowhere to run.

It should have worked perfectly.

But something went wrong right away.

The carriage just stopped. No warning, nothing.

’What? Why did they stop?’

Before Marcus’s men could figure out what was happening, someone jumped off the carriage, got on one of the horses, and cut the ropes.

The hidden fighters didn’t even have time to think when this old guy with a white beard pulled out a crossbow.

Three arrows covered in essence shot out in different directions, fast and accurate.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

"Ugh!"

"Argh!"

"No!"

Three of Marcus’s best men fell from the trees, dead before they hit the ground. Their hiding spots meant nothing to this old man.

Shouts rang out from all over the valley.

"They know we’re here!"

"Attack! Everyone attack!"

The rest of the fighters came out of their hiding spots. Some crawled out from behind rocks, others dropped from trees. There were still over twenty of them left.

"Look at all these rats coming out to play!"

Marcus felt his blood go cold. The way the old man said it, so calm and sure of himself, made Marcus’s skin crawl.

The old bastard tossed his crossbow aside and grabbed two hand axes from his belt.

CRACK!

Marcus watched in horror as the first axe split open a mercenary’s skull like a watermelon. Blood and brains splattered everywhere as the man dropped without making a sound.

The old man didn’t even look at what he’d done.

’What the hell is this guy?’ Marcus thought, his hands starting to shake.

Without stopping, the old killer grabbed a short spear from his saddle and charged straight at a group of Marcus’s men.

CRASH!

"HELP!"

"ARHHH!"

"I’M DYING!"

The spear that was now shining in blue went through three men at once, punching through their armor like it was cloth. One guy’s guts spilled out when the spear pulled back, steaming in the air.

The old man just kept going, cutting down anyone in his way like they were weeds.

"What is this?!" one fighter screamed from behind a rock.

"Nobody said we’d fight a monster like that!" another yelled.

Marcus’s men were falling apart. They’d come here to kill someone, but now they were the ones being slaughtered.

"How’s he doing that?" Marcus whispered, his voice shaking.

"You can’t charge like that here!" another guy gasped, watching their friends die.

The valley was full of rocks, fallen trees, and thick brush. Riding through it should have been impossible, especially while fighting. But this old nightmare moved through everything like it wasn’t even there.

Behind him, Marcus’s men lay scattered like broken toys. Blood pooled between the rocks, and the smell of iron filled the air. Some of the newer guys looked ready to throw up.

It wasn’t a fight anymore. It was a massacre.

"Forget the old man! Kill Renard! That’s what we came for!" Marcus screamed, trying to get control back.

The survivors—less than half now—turned away from the old man and ran toward Renard.

Marcus could see Renard’s guard trying to help, but the young lord just held up his hand to stop him.

’How can he be so calm?’ Marcus thought, his heart pounding and quickly turned back his attention on the old man, but he was gone!

The old man had already turned his horse around and was coming back toward the carriage.

He ignored the scared fighters around him and grabbed a big shield from the side of the carriage.

"Now! While he’s busy!" One of them yelled, pulled out a knife and threw it at Renard.

Swish!

Swish!

Swish!

More knives flew through the air from every direction as Marcus’s remaining men tried to strike their target.

But Renard just sat there, calm as could be, like he was watching a show.

’How can he be so sure of himself?’ Marcus felt sweat running down his face.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The old man jumped in front of Renard. His shield glowed and somehow covered the whole carriage, blocking every single knife. The metal rang as the blades bounced off harmlessly.

Marcus watched his last hope disappear.

Then the old man swung his shield in a wide arc. Marcus heard bones breaking as three of his fighters got hit and flew backward. One man’s chest caved in completely, blood coming out of his mouth as he hit a tree and slid down, leaving a red smear on the bark.

Bodies were everywhere now. Some were still twitching, others ripped open like butchered animals. The air stank of blood and worse things.

Looking at all this death, one thought filled Marcus’s mind as he gripped his weapon with shaking hands:

’Who the hell is this old man?’

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