The Oracle Paths

Wiping the purple blood from his saber, Jake finally had time to focus on what was going on around him, and to say the least, the sight did not make him happy at all. 60,000 Wengol warriors, including a tier of elites above level 40. Even with twice the arrogance, Jake wouldn't have the temerity to face such an army alone.

Fighting and surviving was not impossible, but what was the point? He certainly couldn't hold off 60,000 Undeads on his own. Ruby's help would make no difference.

Soaring into the sky to get a better view, Jake saw that the 300 elite Wengol soldiers of the Protectorate Brigade had come to the same conclusion as he had, for they had chosen to regroup with the 2,400 remaining sane refugees.

Incidentally, their general Urzul was still alive despite the treacherous attack of the now Undead Great General. Having suffered serious injuries, his movements were not as sharp as a minute earlier, but that power, even if diminished, was not something these new Undeads could exploit.

The politicians and cowards barricaded behind their wagons and carriages were naturally adverse to these aliens who had wantonly slaughtered their loved ones and forced them to flee their homes, but those who had just faced this hell were of a different mind. To increase their chances of survival, they might as well put water in their wine and even make a deal with the devil.

Now that the refugees and Wengols had regrouped to face the 60,000 plus Undeads, the latter were momentarily without a target and began to wander idly about the battlefield. During this brief lull, the survivors even thought they had a chance to make it out.

Jake watched the strange behavior of the living dead with a persistent frown on his face. Their change in attitude made no sense.

Indeed, as he deployed his mental sense to monitor these Undeads live, he detected an unexpected energy fluctuation from their Death Mark. As one, all of these Wengol Undeads stopped stumbling around aimlessly and began to stagger off accompanied by low grunts in the direction of the hopeful refugees.

Seeing the huge mass of undead staggering towards them, the terrified refugees who had refused to fight began to scream and shake, some even defecating on themselves. Urzul made no secret of his disgust for these vermin.

His snort of contempt made the fearful refugees shrivel even more in their carriages, but there were also women, men and children among them who were simply too weak to fight. Forcing them to take up arms would be of no use.

Urzul had long since noticed the obese middle-aged man with a triple chin sitting in the largest carriage in the convoy, right in the center of the formation. Several Rank A Adventurers who had not participated in the battle were loyally defending the vehicle, having ignored all the cries of pain and pleas for help without batting an eye.

Even an ordinary human could hear the carriage creaking as it moved back and forth. So with his overdeveloped hearing General Wengol could hear the obscene words of this filthy individual, as well as the fake moans and woozy giggles of several young women inside. There was no doubt about the debauchery that was being enacted inside.

The guards and refugees nearby could obviously hear all this, but none of them seemed to have the courage to take offense. Some of these citizens even seemed eager to distance themselves, especially those with not too ugly daughters of age.

"What a disgrace! You really deserve to be wiped out." Urzul spat out as he stabbed the base of his trident into the ground.

The Grandmaster Blacksmith who had fought so valiantly in the previous battle turned red with anger, but found nothing to complain about. This insolent alien was totally right.

Only humans would place their weakest and most incompetent specimens in the highest positions of authority. Khinchod, which was a protectorate under the authority of the mother state Karoth, had a much more elitist and pragmatic policy inspired by their infamous guardian state.

Selecting the strongest, smartest and most accomplished people to lead them had caused serious problems at the beginning, and it still did, but at least they no longer had to doubt the legitimacy of their rulers. Whoever held a position of power had earned that position.

Thinking back to Karoth, Urzul couldn't help but wonder if it was they who had given the order to their Governor to invade. Unfortunately, his rank was too low to sort out the real from the fake.

"I'm ashamed to say this, but we could kill him. At this point, it will only hasten his death by a few seconds." The old perfumer suggested with a trace of ruthlessness in his almost blind eyes.

The other influential soldiers and craftsmen who had proven their courage gasped aghast as they heard him utter such nonsense.

"Have you lost your mind, old fart?" An almost equally elderly Master Alchemist with skin on his bones belittled him mercilessly. "Sir Gole may be a pushover, but he is the nephew of the head of the Imperial Guard. His reputation as a raving lunatic is no secret. If he dies, there's no point in joining Kelenden alive. We'll be hunted down, tortured, crucified, and then burned at the stake by his crazy uncle under the guise that he needs company in the afterlife."

"You have every right to be a coward, but don't lump me in with you." The old man reeking of flowers and fruit retorted in a murderous tone. "I'm too old to run away, but if you each carry an innocent or two on your back, you have a good chance of losing those Undeads and reaching Kelenden."

The pastry woman with oversized forearms absentmindedly smoothed the folds of her apron and let out a deep sigh,

"Actually, that's not a bad idea..."

The Master Alchemist was stumped by their fearless determination, but he didn't have to formulate a rebuttal. Just then, as Jake and Ruby flew cautiously toward them to join them, they caught some movement in their line of sight.

The door of one of the supposedly empty coaches, where even Jake's Oracle Scan had not detected anyone, suddenly opened with a painfully long and unpleasant creak. One figure stepped out, then a second, then a third, until nearly 100 hooded individuals emerged from the small vehicle.

Male or female, what they all had in common were their piercing crimson eyes and the sharp canines protruding from their upper lip. Only a portion of their faces were visible, but all looked young, pale of skin and extremely handsome.

Jake, the Wengols, and the other refugees wore a stunned expression as they watched all of these people file out of such a small vehicle. Even if they were packed like sardines, it shouldn't have been possible.

The Vampire at the head of the group lowered his hood, releasing a mop of slightly curly black hair that fell over his shoulders. The individual had a dark, intense look, as if he were wearing mascara, but the high-pitched cackle that escaped his mouth and his suave pink shirt instantly discredited the charismatic, masculine image he had built up by arriving so mysteriously.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath of air, his nostrils dilating to better absorb the smells and an ecstatic expression distorted his face as the scent of all that blood reached his brain.

"Aaaah, so good." The Vampire spread his arms wide as he opened his eyes again, a trace of haggard disappointment in his eyes. He had been this close to having an orgasm.

His gaze clear and alert again, he stared haughtily at the crowd of survivors, his face lighting up as he stopped on several particularly lovely young men and women.

"Thozaman kept his promise, it would seem." A female Vampire looking just like him commented apathetically. Turning to the Vampires behind her, she ordered curtly. "Begin the mission."

In front of a stunned crowd, the hundred or so hooded individuals dispersed in a flash, their speed so extreme that they seemed as fleeting as shadows. Their movement raised neither wind, nor blade of grass, nor generated the least rustle. Jake did notice, however, that a group of three people at the rear of the group were not moving.

In the blink of an eye, each of these Vampires appeared in front of their target, a young woman or man of uncommon beauty, and with a flick of their hand on the back of their neck, knocked them out. Preventing them from collapsing, they broke their fall by throwing them on their shoulders, then as they had come, they went back to reform their initial ranks. Each of them had one or two unconscious people on their shoulders.

Satisfied, the first Vampire praised them merrily,

"Good job, that'll be plenty of food for next winter. Store them in the vehicle and return to the fold."

"What-what are you doing, you motherfucker?!" The old perfumer yelled in fury. His granddaughter was among those kidnapped.

Other famous refugees had also had their children or grandchildren kidnapped by these Vampires and their will to fight was stronger than ever. They had almost forgotten about the Undeads behind them.

While these Vampires were doing their shopping among the humans, the Undeads had taken the opportunity to surround them unknowingly while no one was paying them any mind.

Being called a motherfucker by an elderly man with one foot in the grave, the Vampire in the pink shirt was immediately incensed. Giving no apology, no answer, his hand slowly reached out and a split second later a warm, dripping heart appeared in his empty hand.

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