Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 358

Chapter 358: Rescue(2) Chapter 358: Rescue(2) “You won’t touch him, you drunk bastard!”her voice a fierce, trembling roar as she hurled herself against his father.

She fought with everything she had, clawing, scratching, and shoving.

But he was bigger, stronger, and meaner.

It didn’t take long before he overpowered her, grabbing her wrists in one massive hand and throwing her aside as if she weighed nothing.

“He’s my son.

I’ll do as I damn well please!” he spat Lucius stood frozen in the corner, watching with wide eyes as his mother hit the ground hard, clutching her side and crying out in pain.

Why are they fighting this time?

he wondered, his small hands trembling.

He didn’t have the courage to step forward yet, his feet rooted to the dirt floor of their home.

He watched his mother, her face streaked with tears, clutching the hand of his younger brother who looked just as frightened.

Lucius took a tentative step toward her.

“Stop it, Lucius!” his father barked, his voice sharp as the crack of a whip.

In two strides, he was there, seizing Lucius’s arm in an iron grip.

“She’s crying!” Lucius cried, his voice wavering.

“She’ll stop soon enough.

Now quit your whining and come with me!” his father snapped, dragging him toward the door.

His grip tightened until it felt like Lucius’s arm would snap.

Lucius glanced back, desperate and scared.

His mother had struggled to sit up, her hand outstretched toward him as if begging his father to let him go.

Her lips moved silently, calling his name.

His little brother, too young to understand, clung to her other arm, staring at Lucius with wide, confused eyes.

Lucius tried to dig his heels in, but his father’s strength yanked him forward.

He watched helplessly as his mother’s fingers curled in a futile grasp, her outstretched hand not meant for her younger son but for him-her desperate plea to keep her child from harm.

Outside, the cool night air did little to calm the storm in Lucius’s chest.

His father shoved him forward, growling.

“You don’t talk back to me, boy.

You’re coming for a walk, and that’s final.” The two walked in silence for what felt like hours, though it was only minutes.

Lucius’s bare feet shuffled against the dirt road, his father’s heavy strides crunching beside him.

The boy’s heart pounded in his chest, each step filling him with a growing dread he couldn’t name.

Ahead loomed a shabby building, its wooden walls warped and cracked with age.

The windows were either boarded up or smeared with grime, and the faint, sour stench of rot hung in the air.

As they stepped closer, Lucius instinctively pulled back, but his father’s iron grip on his arm tightened.

“Come on, boy.

Don’t make me drag you,” his father growled, his voice dripping with impatience.

Lucius’s breaths quickened.

His small frame shook as a wave of fear unlike anything he’d ever felt coursed through him.

Something about this place was wrong, deeply wrong.

“No… I don’t want to… Please, Father…” he stammered, his words coming in frantic gasps.

His father stopped abruptly, turning to look down at him with a grin that twisted his face into something monstrous.

“You know that this is going to happen!You can’t stop it , it already happened!” Lucius yanked his arm back with all his strength, but his father didn’t let go.

Panic took over, and he began clawing at the hand gripping him.

“Let me go!” he screamed, tears spilling down his cheeks.

His father laughed, a deep, guttural sound that echoed unnaturally.

The edges of the world seemed to blur and ripple, and Lucius’s voice faltered as he realized his screams weren’t escaping.

His throat convulsed, but no sound came out.

He clawed at his own face, his nails tearing into the skin around his mouth as he tried to pry his lips apart.

But they weren’t there.

His mouth had vanished, replaced by smooth, featureless flesh.

Blood dripped down his chin as his nails scraped deeper, his breathing now a frantic wheeze through his nose.

“Don’t you want to go back to your mother?” his father taunted, leaning closer.

His face distorted, becoming warped and grotesque.

The lines of his features blurred, his grin stretching impossibly wide as his deep voice rumbled.

“You just need to say it, Lucius.

Say it!Come on!” Lucius tried to scream, his hands clawing desperately, but the air wouldn’t come.

His chest burned, his vision swam, and his father’s laughter grew louder, echoing in his ears.

The boy fell to his knees, his bloodied fingers trembling as they dropped to his sides.

He awoke with a jolt His eyes snapping open to a suffocating darkness.

A heavy weight pressed down on his stomach, pinning him to the ground, and a coarse, calloused hand clamped over his mouth, silencing his startled gasp.

His chest heaved as he fought to breathe, the panic from his dream bleeding seamlessly into this new nightmare.

His mind raced as the pressure on his body grew unbearable, his breaths quick and shallow beneath the stifling hand.

Gods, save me.

Please, please save me.

The desperate prayer repeated over and over in his head, each word laced with frantic hope.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

Please, gods, I don’t want to die.

 His body jerked instinctively, struggling against the weight holding him down, but it was no use.

The hand on his mouth tightened, and his muffled cries were swallowed by the quiet stillness of the night.

I don’t want to die.

The words became his mantra, his silent plea to the heavens as his vision blurred with unshed tears.

Please, gods, save me.

Fortunately for Lucius, the night of his death was not this one.

The man pinning him down pressed a single finger to his own lips, signaling for silence.

When no dagger materialized to end his life, a flicker of relief seeped into his panic-stricken mind.

Slowly, he nodded, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

The man’s piercing gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer before he eased the hand away from Lucius’s mouth.

Gasping, Lucius sucked in a deep breath, his chest heaving as if he’d been underwater for minutes.

The cool night air filled his lungs, but the tension remained coiled in his body like a taut spring.

Lucius leaned up slightly, his voice a trembling whisper as he asked, “Are you here to rescue us?” The man gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

Relief washed over Lucius like a wave, though it was laced with apprehension.

He glanced over to see another figure crouched over Marcus, waking him in the same silent, firm manner.

Marcus jolted awake, his panicked eyes meeting Lucius’s for a brief moment before understanding would settle in for him too.

Soon the group moved quietly through the rebel camp, their footsteps light and careful.

Around them, the camp was completely silent, with no crackling fires or shifting guards to break the stillness.

Most of the men were asleep, scattered in small groups or wrapped in rugs near the cold remains of the fires.

The camp felt abandoned in its stillness, as though it had been forgotten by its own people.

Lucius followed close behind, keeping his breathing as quiet as he could.

He couldn’t believe how easy it was to walk through the camp.

There were no guards patrolling, no watchmen standing at the edges of the camp-nothing to stop them from leaving.After all they were kept at the centre of the camp with men always watching over them armed, so they could not simply go patrolling around at edges of the camp.

Still as long as they didn’t trip or make a loud noise, it seemed like they could just walk right out.

But something felt off.

Lucius noticed that the men rescuing him were looking around more often than he expected.

Not simply to make sure that nobody was awake, but were instead watching every direction even behind them as they did so.

How many times had he thought he was going to die this week?

Far too many.

Even during the fiercest battles he’d fought in, he’d never felt this close to death so often.  As they moved closer to the edge of the camp, his eyes shifted to his rescuers.

He finally took in their appearance.

The tattered clothes they wore caught his attention-they weren’t just rough or simple; they were ragged, patched in places, and torn in others.

Strangely, their clothing looked almost identical to what many of the other rebels wore, at least those that did not wear armor.

A realization hit him.

Were there other agents apart from us two?For how long were they among the rebels?

 It was clear now that these men must have blended in with the rebels, living among them.

But if that was the case, why hadn’t they helped sooner?

Lucius’s thoughts darkened as he pondered.

There had been countless moments during the march when it would’ve been easier to stage a rescue-times when the camp was even less guarded than tonight, or when the rebels had been too focused on their own survival to pay attention to prisoners.

So why wait until now?

The question gnawed at him, making him uneasy. He knew he should feel grateful for these men as after all they had rescued them from their situation , yet suspicion soon crept in through the crack of his mind What had changed tonight that finally made them act?

He just could not understand.