Lord of Caldera - Chapter 157

Chapter 157: Chapter 157

‘Bjorn isn’t one to run away so easily,’ he mused. Brian knew Bjorn as a man who would rather die fighting. Yet, he had left without hesitation. Cautious, he ordered his troops, “Spread out and secure the perimeter! It could be a trick.”

If they were pretending to retreat only to ambush them later, Brian wanted to be ready. He maintained a full alert for a day, then two, but the enemies never returned.

“They must’ve really been scared,” he finally concluded with a smirk. It was no surprise; exiled to the countryside for so long, even the bravest would lose their nerve eventually.

“Reduce the perimeter watch and set up camp. Begin exploring the dungeon!” Brian urged, spurring his troops into action. With no fight to distract them, they could focus entirely on the dungeon.

With his larger force, he thought it would be easy to replicate Bjorn’s achievements. However, a month later…

-Please, for the love of mercy, call off the troops. This dungeon is a hellhole…

Brian, his eyes ringed with dark shadows, was penning a desperate letter to his lord.

“Phew…” Brian sighed, brushing a weary hand across his darkened eye bags. Just a month had passed, yet he felt as though he had aged five years.

An unintentional groan escaped his lips. “How can this dungeon be so harsh?”

Not all dungeons were of the same difficulty. Some were severely eroded and easily conquered, while others could take more than half a year. But Brian hadn’t expected this dungeon to be the latter, especially since Bjorn’s forces had already disarmed close to 20% of the traps.

“Oh, this dungeon must be easier than I thought,” he’d once mused, considering himself lucky. Now, he gritted his teeth, cursing his past self. “Easy, my foot.”

Brian had never led a dungeon raid before, but he was certain: this dungeon was one of the most horrific places he had ever encountered.

Thunder rumbled outside. Then, a faint scream echoed from the camp. A month ago, he would have rushed out, alarmed, to investigate the source of the scream. Now, he simply held his throbbing head in his hands.

“S-Sir Commander!”

“What now?” Brian asked wearily, looking at the lieutenant who had run into his tent. With a grim face, the lieutenant reported, “We accidentally triggered a trap, resulting in heavy casualties.”

“How many?” Brian asked, his voice flat.

“Thirty men, sir.”

“Damn it…”

He barely heard the rest—the details about the trap being lightning-based or how many were severely injured. His mind only repeated the number of soldiers lost to these relentless traps.

“At this rate, they’ll all die.”

The traps were filled with malice, designed solely to kill intruders. Surviving after triggering one was almost impossible. So far, they had activated twenty-one traps, and the number of dead soldiers was already horrific.

“Pull the soldiers back. We’re done for today,” Brian ordered.

“Yes, sir!”

Morale was already low, and with the casualties from that day, no one would want to continue. Better to let them rest and regain their composure. After the senior soldier left, Brian took out a letter from his chest pocket, the one he had received that day.

The contents were short and simple: “Stop talking nonsense and proceed with the raid.”

It was a response to the letter he had sent, pleading for a retreat. Brian let out another sigh, one of many he had lost count of.

“I expected this reply.”

He knew that his lord, Lugues, would not give up. This dungeon contained treasures powerful enough to reshape the political landscape. However, this was not an obstacle that could be overcome with mere determination.

“A month in, we’ve barely progressed even 10%, and we’ve already lost more than a quarter of the troops.”

To continue this raid was madness. It felt as if they might be wiped out without even facing an actual battle. Brian picked up his pen. He planned to request withdrawal from his lord once more.

“If he denies it again, I’ll take matters into my own hands and return.”

Even if it cost him his position, it was better than sacrificing soldiers endlessly in this hopeless dungeon.

That night, as he racked his brain for a way to persuade his lord, Brian heard loud noises outside.

Bang! Crash!

“Aaah!” “Everyone, get out of the way!”

He frowned, irritated by the noise. He had strictly ordered that no one enter the dungeon at night.

“Who’s the fool causing trouble now?”

Angered, Brian rose to his feet, assuming that some greedy soldier had slipped in for a piece of treasure. He stepped outside, determined to reprimand the culprit.

“Wipe them all out!” “Charge!” “Aaaah!”

Brian’s eyes widened at the sight of unfamiliar soldiers wreaking havoc on his camp.

“What is going on?”

At that moment, a large shadow fell beside him.

“It’s been a while, Sir Brian.”

“…Bjorn?!”

Brian practically shouted his name, shocked. Bjorn Beldaine—the disinherited former heir of the lord’s house, who had been exiled. To think they would meet here. Clenching his jaw, Brian quickly drew his sword.

“You scoundrel!”

As a seasoned knight, Brian’s attack was swift and precise. But Bjorn was also skilled in combat. Their weapons clashed multiple times, sparks flying in the air. After a few exchanges, the two stepped back simultaneously.

“The little brat who used to roll on the training ground has come quite a way!” Brian taunted.

“And you’ve grown rusty! Have you neglected your training while reveling in power?” Bjorn retorted.

“Talk all you want! Even with my ‘rusty’ skills, I’ll have no trouble taking your head!”

Clang!

Their weapons met once more, and they locked into a stalemate, each pressing against the other. A grin spread across Brian’s lips.

“You fool! Do you think you’ve won just because your ambush succeeded?”

Surprise tactics certainly had their advantages; they could allow a smaller force to rout a larger one. But circumstances varied. There were times when even a successful ambush wouldn’t lead to victory.