Chapter 43 The Young Fox’s Wild Assault

The orc staggered back half a step, and in that instant, Cait Sith, the Iron Cat, leapt forward like an arrow. No, not an arrow—more like a cannonball. Its body seemed to have grown several times heavier; though its speed did not visibly increase, its momentum was so formidable that only a cannonball could properly describe it.

A pounce, a swipe of the claws, and a swift bite to the throat! Cait Sith proved true to its earlier boast—Iron Cat was not just about defense.

Its muscles, hard as steel, endowed it with immense strength. Though a bit slow, it was as unstoppable as a charging elephant, exuding a domineering force that brooked no resistance.

“Two left. After all, they’re just slow, clumsy brutes—not that hard to deal with,” Vinigo remarked with a slight snort.

Easier said than done. If Sophie and Cait Sith’s attacks hadn’t been so powerful, or if the Jaguar Kick in Arton Mode didn’t possess armor-piercing properties, any other group—like the earlier guards—would have worn themselves out hacking at these thick-skinned, muscle-bound mutant orcs to no avail.

“Two remain,” Vinigo said with a quiet laugh.

“Archers,” Sophie reminded.

“Hanni?” Vinigo glanced back. Hanni immediately understood, raised her hand, and pointed.

Berserk.

The last orc instantly went mad, swinging its club at the comrade blocking its path. The orc, nearly knocked senseless by the blow from behind, paused in confusion, then turned with a snarl to retaliate against its attacker.

In short, the two orcs fell to fighting each other in a violent brawl.

Hanni’s mind-affecting magic proved extraordinarily effective, and the mutant orcs clearly had no resistance to such spells. With one move, Hanni had secured their victory.

Except...

With a blur, Cait Sith sprang in front of Hanni, rearing up on its hind legs, forepaws shielding its head and chest. In that very instant, an arrow flashed through the air, striking Cait Sith with a sickening thud, piercing straight through!

A sniper shot...

Without a word, Vinigo reached into his pouch and tossed a handful of colorful “beans” into Cait Sith’s mouth, then slapped its jaw to make it swallow. Sophie, anticipating danger, moved aside, greatsword at the ready, eyes fixed on the direction the arrow had come from.

Only Hanni had yet to react. After a brief stunned moment, she cried out, rushing to Cait Sith’s side, hugging it tightly as tears streamed down her face.

“It’s all right,” Vinigo said calmly.

“Enhanced heavy crossbow, enchanted,” Sophie warned. “I’ve heard that sound before, up north. It’s quite distinctive.”

“Looks like both the accuracy and power are terrifying. Fortunately, it loads slowly. Unfortunately, we still don’t know where the shooter is,” Vinigo said with a wry smile.

“West by north, three units,” Sophie replied.

Vinigo did the mental math; three units meant sixty degrees.

“You left, I right,” Vinigo ordered in a low voice, then charged forward.

Arton was fast. Vinigo, running at full speed, quickly outpaced Sophie, whose weapon weighed her down.

Crack!

The bowstring sang, and the arrow materialized before him—an extra-heavy bolt moving at near-sonic speed, carrying devastating force. Even the best armor, if not pierced outright, would be battered aside by such an impact.

Vinigo’s upper body was almost bare, offering no protection. The sniper crossbow’s power was enough to kill him instantly, especially with its enhanced penetration—enough to pierce solid iron.

But the sheer penetrative force worked against it: the bolt punched straight through him without tearing a massive wound or creating a deadly cavity.

Vinigo’s face went pale in an instant. That kind of firepower could have killed him outright. Luckily, a high-speed moving target was hard to hit; the shooter missed a vital spot.

“Character reset—reconstruction, begin!” Vinigo made the only possible choice before losing consciousness.

With a reset, his wounds vanished completely. Though the severe injury consumed a large amount of quicksilver, compared to his life, the precious bottle—worth one hundred seventy gold coins—was a small price to pay.

The enemy was using a heavy sniper crossbow—a weapon of such destructive force could not reload quickly. Clutching his agonizing shoulder, Vinigo cursed the crossbowman under his breath.

As expected, Sophie did not disappoint.

The shooter had misjudged their threat levels. Seeing Vinigo’s greater speed, he could never have guessed Vinigo would survive a direct hit by such an unorthodox method. Meanwhile, Sophie, now sprinting, would reach him in moments.

But the shooter was guarded by two defenders—two fully armed mutant orcs. Unlike the four that had attacked the camp, these were different.

Their modifications were not for brute strength and bulk, but for speed. They moved with surprising agility to shield the shooter, two battle axes whistling in a deadly cross, enveloping Sophie in a hurricane of steel.

She did not shout battle cries or taunting threats. Silent and lethal, she was like a lioness stalking her prey—poised and deadly, striking with razor-sharp claws.

Kriegs-style Greatsword Technique—Towering Spire.

Spiraling currents of air surged upward with the deadly blade. Though her competition blade was not the sharpest, under Sophie’s strength and the wild violence of her technique, it was still utterly lethal.

Compared to this, what were the orcs’ axe winds? Contemptible...

Clang! Clang! Under Sophie’s sword, the orcs’ axes were sent flying, and the icy blade tore through their rough hides, ripping flesh, and dragging blood and entrails out in a spray of gore.

The shooter, seeing this, decisively discarded his precious enhanced sniper crossbow, drew a more practical shortbow from his back, and, retreating swiftly, nocked an arrow and fired at Sophie.

His response was correct, but he had underestimated Sophie.

Though her greatsword was heavy, Sophie’s unassuming frame concealed extraordinary strength; she wielded her weapon with the force of a gale. Her footwork, too, was swift and relentless—she closed the distance in an instant.

The shooter’s arrow struck Sophie in the left shoulder, but she did not flinch; her sword came crashing down.

Gate of Hell!

The shooter tried to block with his shortbow, which had been reinforced with a steel blade, but the thin steel snapped under Sophie’s sword as if it were paper. Without losing momentum, the blade cleaved the shooter in two.

The ambush was over almost as soon as it had begun.

Vinigo strolled over unhurriedly, habitually transforming into his Scavenger Cat form as he set about collecting the spoils of war.

The orcs were penniless, their gear too heavy and not worth much. Only the abandoned enhanced sniper crossbow was valuable enough to compensate for the large amount of quicksilver Vinigo had lost.

Beyond that, the finely crafted sniper bolts were worth a good price, and the shooter’s own finger guard—a magical work known as the “Sharpshooter’s Ring”—greatly enhanced attack and skill accuracy. Vinigo accepted it all without hesitation.

Back in camp, the captain of the guard now looked at them with newfound respect. Their willingness to risk injury to end the fight quickly had left the usually complacent guards deeply shaken.

Sophie’s prowess, in particular, left them astounded. As scions of minor nobility, they had always looked down on others—every one of them was at least a baron’s direct descendant—and had never witnessed such ferocity in action.

Even if they were desperate, none among them could match Sophie’s astonishing swordwork, be it her own style or the Kriegs-style Greatsword Technique she’d learned from the ultimate knights.

Cait Sith’s wounds were serious, but with Vinigo’s special jelly, its condition quickly stabilized—now it only needed time to recover. Sophie’s injuries were minor; after treatment, she was nearly healed.

“Your Highness’s courage is beyond my expectations. You didn’t seem worried at all,” Vinigo remarked softly, looking at Prince Nicholas.

“My parents are the famed Roland and Catherine,” Nicholas replied proudly. “As their only son, master of Ironfist Castle and future King of Enlos, how could I be frightened by some minor skirmish?”

“Keep up the good work, Your Highness,” Vinigo said with a smile.

“Mind your manners, sir,” the captain of the guard interjected, scowling.

“It’s fine,” Nicholas said with a mature wave of his hand. “You don’t need to expect those outside the nobility to follow our strict etiquette. The three of you have proven your worth—I’ll rely on you from here on.”

“As you wish,” Vinigo answered with a slight bow.

“By the way, I think I just saw you turn into a cat…” Nicholas hesitated, unable to restrain his curiosity.

“A small talent,” Vinigo replied, touching his face to ensure no stray whiskers remained.

“Can you show me?” Nicholas’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Hanni edged closer as well—no matter how many times she saw it, she never tired of pouncing on the cat and pinching its cheeks.

“All right. After all, my job is to entertain you…” Vinigo sighed, taking out a coin and pressing it to his forehead.

Character construction… Level 1 Scavenger Cat.

“Let’s play hide and seek,” Vinigo suggested. “You two can try to find me—of course, Your Highness, you’re not allowed to have the guards or maids help.”

“Great idea! Let’s do it,” Nicholas exclaimed, quickly ordering the captain of the guard, “None of you are to help!”

“But, Your Highness—”

“The guards still have their duties—just don’t help find me,” Vinigo said, waving a paw. “We’ll stay within the camp… There aren’t any off-limits areas, are there?”

Even as he spoke, Vinigo’s eyes darted about. Why would he play hide and seek for no reason? Naturally…