Chapitre 8: A Hope
Caius' orders were simple yet deliberate: he wanted his men to burst into the warehouse windows in a surprise attack that nobody could anticipate, and then catch Adrian while the latter least expected. Such a strategy would guarantee success, he concluded.
While Caius stood conveniently blocking the entrance to the warehouse, when Adrian began to indulge in conversation, Caius tried to placate him with apparently casual small talk while his sleek, well-armed elite moved within position without a sound, even their breathing seemed to be measured. They advanced with a deliberation that covered any doubt of cowardice; they all carried ladders they had prepared for this manoeuvre to be used.
Every man knew what was expected of him, and what was at stake. Still, there was a certain confidence about them. After all, they were Caius' best. He had handpicked these elite to tackle operations that required stealth and precision.
From one by one ladders, they entered the warehouse, slipping through those windows. Their pace was silent, timed and efficient as shadows deepened into the night. Caius glanced at them in the corner of his eyes, and with every step his plan succeeded, the wider his sneer became.
"Adrian," Caius said, his voice dripping with mockery, "you're still too young and careless. You let your temper govern you, and that's always been your worst failing." To him, this was not simply a raid; it was a lesson he intended to teach Adrian, one he would never forget.
Adrian was not as blind as Caius thought. Behind that mask of serenity, he knew an ambush had been set for him. That grin that beamed on his face was not a result of ignorance; it was a trap-perhaps one devised by himself.
Just as the last of Caius' elite was climbing in through the windows, a guttural scream burst from within the warehouse. Caius froze. The blood drained from his face as the silence that followed was marked by the overflow of chaos into the walls.
Adrian's voice sliced through the fog like a blade. "Oh, Caius," he said, his words punctuated by a deep, sarcastic laugh, "you've really become this predictable in your old age. A sneak attack through the windows? Did you think I wouldn't see that coming? You're slipping."
Caius' jaw tensed as realisation began to dawn. Adrian hadn't been caught off guard—he'd been prepared all along.
Earlier, once he rescued Kuro and his team from the cruel attack by Tyro, Adrian had not wasted even a minute in the reorganisation of his situation. Most of his friends were wounded and exhausted, but still they were far from defeated. They didn't represent ordinary soldiers; they represented seasoned warriors, experts after hundreds of battles. Equipped with the weapons snatched from the bodies of Tyro's squad, Adrian had suitably armed his team and made the warehouse into a suicide camp for an enemy so stupid as to invade.
But Adrian's greatest asset wasn't his tactical thinking or his team's experience. He had something much more powerful: his —hero panel—, a set of unique abilities that had saved his life countless times. Among those was a skill to be uniquely suited for the type of chaos that was about to unfold: —[Rage]—.
—[Rage] (Heroic Trait)—
When you or your allies are injured or strike an enemy, you and your allies gain rage. Incoming damage is reduced, and outgoing damage increases as rage builds.
The injuries Kuro and his team had sustained earlier only strengthened their resolve. With Adrian's encouragement, their fighting spirit soared, and —[Rage]— gave them the strength to hold their ground. The men placed themselves tactically at the windows, lying in wait for Caius' elites to climb through.
Caius had sent his best—the cream of the crop, eight highly trained fighters. But with every soldier came the unrelenting brutality.
Kuro's team attacked with an efficiency and power redoubled by the naked force of —[Rage]—. Blades ripped through armour, axes shrieked through the air full of unholy spite, and crimson flecks marked the red plank floorboards. And as the last soldier splattered onto the floor, windows were marked by Caius' elite, lifeless bodies.
The scowl outside deepened on Caius' face. For he had not anticipated failure, but his well-planned ambush had backfired catastrophically. The sneer that first graced his face twisted into a scowl.
"Not in your life, Adrian!" Caius roared through, brimming full of rage. All pretences at being civil evaporated. "Bring the cannon forward! Blow this door open!
Inside the warehouse Adrian laughed as he retreated further into the labyrinth of crates and barrels. "A cannon? Really, Caius?" he shouted with a mocking edge to his voice. "You're going to use "my" cannon to break into "my" warehouse? At least give me credit for arming you!"
Caius narrowed his eyes. Adrian was right - the cannon he was going to shoot with was not his. That particular cannon was a war loot taken during one of Adrian's previous campaigns, a loot stolen by sneaky hands during a daring raid on a pirate fortress. Though it had done its job at that battle and proved worth what Adrian had paid for it, he left it to rust in the warehouse of Shadowborn Mercenary Corps. He never expected Caius to find it, much less use it.
A booming report exploded through the air as the cannon was fired. The iron ball slammed into the warehouse door with such force that it splintered the solid oak and flung the massive door wide open for their entry.
Adrian flinched as the sound of the shot faded away. He was unharmed but the breach was a grave concern. From where he was, he could see Caius' forces preparing to charge forward.
"Hold them by the shelves!" Adrian yelled at his team. "Don't let them group up! Keep them bottlenecked!"
The warehouse maze of crates and barrels and scattered goods was the perfect terrain for the guerrilla warfare tactics of Adrian. The man seemed to move around as though he was a ghost; his sword glinting with deadly precision as he struck down attacker after attacker with each blow.
With every step Caius' men made toward them, they paid in blood. Adrian's blade had claimed four, five lives, but the relentless onslaughts began to wear him down. His breaths were getting heavier, and though his movement remained sharp, his strength was waning. Two arrows had grazed him, leaving thin streaks of blood along his arms.
More anxiety-filled sounds of struggle came in from his comrades. He could hear Kuro cry out in pain and hear another teammate's desperate scream fly into the air, and the line was cracking.
Adrian gritted his jaw. They couldn't keep holding on like this. They were outnumbered and outmatched. He needed a new plan, and he needed it fast.
He looked up and saw him—Junior Caius. The young half-orc was barking orders at the edge of the battlefield. He seemed to exude overconfidence, as if believing himself to be untouchable.
A plan started going through Adrian's mind. If Junior Caius were to be brought down, the morale of Caius' people would crumple.
It was a long shot, but it might be their only chance to give them a pulse in the fight.
Please subscribe to my patreon membership to read chapters in advance and support me:
https://www.patreon.com/Venerable_Shameles?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Venerable_Shameles
Venerable_Shameles HAND OVER YOUR POWER STONES ~PLS~
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone