I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 502 The Honest Snake Man

When the snake people's rescue operation failed, the attack outside the wooden wall subsided abruptly and quickly, like the receding tide.

The deafening hissing, the snake-man's growl, the clash of weapons... all these sounds faded away and disappeared in a very short time.

All that remained were the crackling sounds of burning fires within the camp, the groans of the wounded, and the heavy, uncertain breathing of the players.

This sudden, deathly silence was even more unsettling than the previous frenzied attacks.

"what happened?"

A player leaned against a battered wooden wall, watching the snake shadows quickly retreat into the darkness outside.

Why did they run away?

Instead of being stunned, Buzaibuji turned his head to look at the center of the camp... Just a minute ago, he seemed to have heard gunshots coming from that direction.

illusion?

After a moment of silence, Bushuangbuwan considered a possibility... Could the snake-man he had just captured have been rescued?

Mmm...

Not happy about this possibility, he suddenly became a little nervous, quickly turned around and called out twice, leading a few players to run towards the center of the camp.

"Not happy, not playing" led a few players and rushed anxiously towards the center of the camp.

The closer he got, the more pronounced the faint smell of blood and gunpowder in the air became, and his heart sank deeper and deeper.

Were they really rescued?

Wouldn't all the sacrifices and perseverance tonight have been in vain?

When he flung open the tent flap that served as a makeshift prison, the sight that greeted him stunned both him and the players behind him.

The tent was in a mess, with five snake-man assassin corpses of different shapes lying on the ground, their green and black blood splattered everywhere.

The archaeologist lay dead to one side, a poisoned dagger protruding from his chest.

But that's not the key point. The key point is that the special snake-man and the shrimp catcher aren't here.

Seeing this, I immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

If the bodies of the archaeologist and the shrimp catcher are both here, but the special snake-man is not, then without a doubt, the latter was rescued.

The archaeologist is dead, but the shrimp catcher's body is not here. This means that when the two were attacked, one died, and the other killed all the snake-man assassins and then moved on with the mission objective.

So, after Bushuangbuwan and the other players figured it out, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

As for where the shrimp catchers would go, there's no need to guess. There are only two or three places in the camp where people can hide, and the wounded soldiers' camp is one of them.

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he immediately turned around and led his men, quickly running towards the wounded soldiers' accommodation area at the back of the camp.

The closer you get, the clearer the mingled smells of blood, herbs, and low groans become in the air.

As soon as they approached the area enclosed by several large tents and makeshift sheds, they saw the shrimp catcher leaning against a wooden crate, while a player temporarily acting as a medic roughly used bandages and splints to fix his strangely twisted left arm.

The shrimp catcher was pale and covered in cold sweat, but his eyes were unusually bright, even showing a hint of excitement.

Not far from him, the snake-man god was still tied to a chair, surrounded by several players who looked tense and on high alert, with muskets and swords pointed at him.

But it seemed completely unconcerned, simply sitting quietly, its pale golden pupils occasionally sweeping over the crowds busy treating the wounded, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

"How's it going with the shrimp catchers?"

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he strode forward, first glancing warily at the snake-man god, then looking at the wounded with concern.

"He won't die..."

The shrimp catcher hissed in the cold air and grimaced as he spoke.

"Damn it, five stealthy dark-skinned assassins showed up. The archaeologists got screwed, but I'm even better. I chopped them all up. It's just that the last bastard used some kind of cheat code before he died and almost took me with him..."

He briefly recounted the thrilling assassination and counterattack, especially focusing on the snake-man assassin who had mutated using a strange amulet.

The player who was unhappy about not playing the game was incredibly envious of the other players around him.

"You killed three elite monsters, one of which could transform. How many redemption points do you have now?"

The player asked enviously, "I'm not happy about this." The player paused for a moment, then opened his player interface. Just one glance and a grin spread across his face.

"Sigh, how much?"

One hundred and fifty points!

"Damn! You hit the jackpot! If I had that amount, I could be free of my status as a redemption soldier right now!"

He was incredibly envious and asked, "I'm not happy about not playing, and I'm not playing with you."

How much more do you need to break free of your chains?

"Uh... about 850 points."

"...Wow, bro, what did you do?"

The shrimp catcher didn't say anything; he just shrugged.

Displeased and unwilling to play, he turned his gaze to the snake-man god.

"Didn't this thing take the opportunity to do anything during this process?"

He was somewhat uneasy about this strange prisoner.

"No, it didn't do anything, it was as honest as an NPC on our side."

The shrimp catcher scratched the back of his head with his perfectly intact right hand, clearly puzzled.

Frowning, he turned around and carefully examined the snake-man god.

It was firmly tied to the wooden chair with rough ropes, its scales gleaming in the flickering light of the campfire torches.

It now appears unusually calm, even... composed, its demeanor more like that of a detached observer than a prisoner.

After a moment of hesitation, Bu Shuang thought of the snake-man's cooperation earlier and asked.

"what's your name?"

Yes, this is an oversight that BuShuangBuWan discovered he had made; to this day, he still doesn't know the snake-man's name.

The snake-man tilted its head slightly, a playful gesture that, combined with its overly delicate face, made the hearts of the players present beat a little faster.

"Sleekmar".

“Sleekmar, I ask you, why did your people come to save you, why didn’t you run away?”

"If you're unhappy, don't play," he asked directly.

Although asking the enemy this question is a bit absurd, his gut feeling told him that asking would yield unexpected results.

As expected, Sleekmar was unusually honest, even answering such a question.

"Because I know they can't save me, and at the same time, you won't kill me."

"Ah, why?"

"Because I am a prophet, I have a certain vague perception of future events."

Slekmar paused for a moment, then continued.

"Time is a river, and most people are fish that drift with the current, but I can occasionally leap out of the water and glimpse the tributaries and reefs ahead."

Hey, that's awesome!

When I'm unhappy, I stop playing; when I become interested, I stop.

"Then tell me, what do you see in me, and when will I leave this island and return to Bagnia?"

"I can't see these."

Slekma spoke in her clear, neutral voice.

"Because I can't see your future clearly, I can only see blood and fire, and when you will leave is an even more vague thing. I find it strange that you can leave right now if you want to."

Slekmar's answer disappointed BuShuangBuWan, but that's understandable; how could a prophecy in a game possibly control a player's future?

"I'm a little curious."

If you're not happy, don't play anymore, keep asking.

"What are you curious about?"

Slekmar's pale golden pupils shifted slightly, focusing on the face of the unhappy man, whose expression remained calm.

"I'm curious about you."

If you're unhappy, don't play. Take a step closer and stare intently into its eyes.

"You claim to be a prophet, able to see fragments of the future, yet we captured you so easily. Your people risked their lives to save you, and you sit here like nothing happened, answering my questions, even... a little too cooperative."

He paused, his voice lowered, tinged with inquiry. "This doesn't make sense, unless... the future you see tells you that you must stay with us? Or, do you have some reason why you must stay with us?"

"You can't even lie to us?"

The last sentence is a bold guess that he won't play if he's unhappy. Combined with the snake-man's overly frank attitude, he always felt that there was some kind of rule binding it.

Slekma was silent for a moment, the only sounds in the tent being the crackling of the torches and the faint groans coming from afar.

"Our mother's will surrounds us."

It finally spoke.

"She gave me the ability to peer into the flow of time, but at the same time set limits. I cannot respond to direct questioning with lies, and concealment is only allowed in one situation."

"what's the situation?"

If you're unhappy, don't play; immediately ask follow-up questions.

"When concealing the truth is more advantageous to the inquirer."

Slekma said slowly.

"This is a rule set by my mother. She believes that pure truth is sometimes sharper than a blade, unnecessary truth can cause unnecessary harm, and beneficial concealment is a kind of kindness."

The surrounding players exchanged glances; this setup sounded rather interesting.

"Including us?"

He was annoyed and stopped joking.

"Didn't Naghsas expect you to fall into our hands?"

"I do not know."

Naghsas was quite composed.

"A mother is not omniscient or omnipotent."

"Why did the snake people avoid this camp before?"

Feeling annoyed and unable to play, he remembered another question that had piqued his curiosity.

"That was my order."

"why?"

"There's no point in fighting you. Even if you all die, more of you will come."

Naghus's words made Bushuang stop joking.

Indeed, players can be resurrected after dying. Since they all died here, they will definitely come back with the second batch of players to cause trouble for the snake people.

"Then why are the snake people attacking us now?"

“My people regard me as an important sacred object, and they are trying to take me back.”

"I'm not happy, I won't play anymore," he leaned forward and pressed for an answer.

"Then why did they suddenly stop attacking?"

Just a moment ago, they surged up like a tide, and in the blink of an eye, they all receded. This doesn't make sense; they almost succeeded.

Slekmar's pale golden pupils flickered in the firelight, as if weighing something, and it gently shook its head.

"Because they can't keep fighting."

Its voice remained calm, yet it carried a barely perceptible hint of weariness, as if stating a fact related to the fate of its people, a fact that could no longer be changed.

"They can't keep fighting?"

Frowning, I won't play if I'm unhappy.

"What do you mean? Aren't there many of you snake people?"

"It used to be."

Slekmar slightly raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the tent, looking towards the dark jungle in the distance.

"But war is a greedy millstone; no matter how much flesh and blood is poured into it, it will eventually be exhausted."

It paused for a moment, as if organizing its thoughts, or rather, choosing which truths to reveal.

"We paid a heavy price to take the town of Casarina: those sturdy stone walls, those iron pipes that spewed flames and lead bullets..."

Its tone was completely flat, as if it were talking about something that had nothing to do with itself.

"Many excellent warriors fell, and their blood soaked the soil of the town."

"But this is not the beginning."

Slekma continued.

"Before you arrived, our battle with the Maconians had already lasted much longer and consumed far more resources. The successive battles had already severely weakened our people. Tonight's fierce attack on your camp..."

That was practically the last decent force we could muster; perhaps only the old, weak, and young remained of our tribe's warriors.

Its gaze swept over Bu Shuang Bu Wan and the players behind him who were listening in a daze.

"When the casualties exceed the limit of what can be tolerated, continuing the attack is pointless and will only increase destruction. According to my final order, what they need to do now is to retreat and leave this place."

The tent was silent, save for Slekma's neutral yet clear voice, which revealed the cruel and helpless truth behind the sudden and abrupt attack.

The snake-men are not endless, their attacks are not without cost, and they too will bleed to death and eventually decay.

The players looked at each other in silence. The initial excitement of repelling the attack was gradually replaced by a complex feeling.

Damn it, if the snake people escape, are we in a winning or losing situation now?
Just as Slekmar had said, the rest of the night passed peacefully outside the camp, with no major attacks except for a few sporadic, mournful cries of snake people coming from who-knows-where.

The faint light of dawn struggled to pierce through the pervasive fog, illuminating the horrific scene inside and outside the camp.

The wooden wall was damaged and charred in many places, and a large number of snake people and a small number of players' corpses were piled up at the foot of the wall. The congealed blood stained the soil with dark brown and eerie green.

Exhausted players leaned against the walls, panting, or slumped on the ground tending to their wounds. The air was thick with the stench of blood, the smell of gunpowder, and a sense of bewilderment at having survived a catastrophe.

"So, we've managed to hold out?"

One player looked at the gradually brightening sky and murmured to himself.

"We managed to hold out..."

Another player spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

"But the snake-man escaped, what are we going to fight next?"

……

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, at the docks of the town of Casarina.

The morning mist, like a gray veil, enveloped the several Macon Union transport ships anchored in the harbor. Rough wooden piers extended into the shallow water, and the waves gently lapped against the hulls and piles, producing a monotonous gurgling sound.

The second batch of mercenary task force players are gradually walking onto the dock from the gangplank set up by the ship's side.

Their equipment was significantly better than that of the first batch of players. Everyone wore armor, carried brand-new muskets on their shoulders, and also had spears and axes.

Many people looked around curiously, breathing in the salty air with a faint smell of burning, their faces showing the excitement of a newcomer and the anticipation of the mission rewards.

However, this excitement was quickly frozen by the sight before him.

The dock area was in a mess.

Several warehouses near the town were burned down to their charred skeletons, still emitting wisps of smoke.

Broken boxes and torn sacks were scattered along the wooden plank road, the exposed grains already blackened and rotten from being soaked in blood and seawater.

Several bloated corpses were pushed to the edge of the pier by the tide, gently bumping against each other with a dull thud.

Besides the fishy smell of the sea, the air was filled with an even stronger, lingering stench of blood, burnt flesh, and the sweet, cloying stench of rotting corpses.

"Holy crap... what the hell is this place?"

A player carrying a halberd on his shoulder pinched his nose and kicked aside an empty gunpowder barrel blocking his way with disgust.

"Wasn't this supposed to be Maconian territory? Why does it look like the place was just ransacked by other players?"

He frowned and grumbled as he carefully avoided a tattered, foul-smelling corpse on the ground.

The Macon Union officer who led them off the ship had a livid face. The players next to him could tell at a glance that he didn't know what was going on either, so they didn't bother to ask.

"How is this going!?"

"It's obvious that the snake people have conquered this place."

"What to do?"

"Let's make do... First, take a stroll around the area and check the length of the corpses' decomposition. The battle only ended last night, so the snake people haven't gone far."

(End of this chapter)