Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 102: [Panicked]

Chapter 102: [Panicked]

"Ritual sacrifices, forbidden meditations, collecting cursed relics... and the most important part is—it can’t be stopped once it begins."

Kael stared at her, stunned.

"So you just told them the devil was behind some summoning in the forest... and tied the disappearances to that?"

She nodded.

"Since the summoning process can’t be stopped midway, they believe they can just surround the devil and kill him before it completes."

Kael gave a slow nod and fell silent.

Now, at last, he understood why bearers of the Godbreaker Mark were hunted so relentlessly by all who served the gods.

To carry that mark was to have summoned—or nearly summoned—a forgotten god, one of the divine enemies sealed away for a reason.

He glanced at Yue, who sat motionless, her expression unreadable as she gazed out the window.

Kael exhaled quietly, a weight settling in his chest.

How little do I really know about her?

Well... I’ll find out more in time.

He glanced at both of them, still ignoring each other.

With a sigh, he took out the Rank 3 scrolls he had retrieved from the castle and began studying them.

He could feel it—he was close to a breakthrough.

If he could just master one, the others would come easily, thanks to his SSS-ranked talent.

The rest of the day passed in a calm hush, the carriage swaying gently as they finally crossed into the edges of Duskwitter Forest.

It was vast—more like a shadowed country of its own than a forest.

By nightfall, the trees were walls of darkness around them, and the convoy came to a halt.

They were camping here for the night.

Kael stepped down from the carriage and looked around.

Disciples of the War God Temple and the followers of the Night Goddess Church were already at work—felling minor beasts, raising tents, and preparing their wards.

Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly.

When the kingdom needs them, they complain of depleted mana and sacred constraints.

But now, with a Godbreaker involved, they’ve conveniently produced a small army of Rank 3 mages...

How noble.

Soon, small bonfires bloomed across the camp, lighting up the shadows.

Groups formed around them—some chatting, others cooking or sharpening weapons, the tension buried just beneath the surface.

Kael sat quietly beside Selene and Elara, the flickering fire casting long shadows across their faces.

Opposite them, Eiden, Ronan, and Selina shared the same roasted beast meat, their expressions lit in turns by flame and thought.

The air was still, heavy with unease, when Selina finally broke the silence.

"But... what if the devil attacks tonight?"

Her voice trembled slightly, as if the very mention invited darkness.

Eiden didn’t hesitate. "I want him to attack," he said coolly.

Everyone turned to him.

"If he makes a move, my tracking artifacts—set up around the camp and inside my carriage—will detect his presence.

Once that happens, we’ll pin him down and kill him."

Selina’s eyes widened.

"But there will be deaths, won’t there?"

Eiden gave a small shrug, biting into his meat before replying without emotion,

"They’re not dying. They’re sacrificing—for a noble cause."

Silence fell like a blade.

Kael was quietly amused—Eiden had come prepared this time, and it showed.

Well, the devil’s on holiday tonight, baby.

Let someone else do the dirty work for once.

His eyes settled on Elara’s carriage—the one he’d come in. It stood quiet under the moonlight, untouched, like a secret waiting to be told.

Soon, there were footsteps—soft at first, barely more than a shuffle.

Then louder.

Crunching over twigs.

Slow. Measured. Too many to count.

Kael smiled secretly, not looking up.

It’s starting.

The others tensed.

Hands moved to weapons.

Spells hovered, half-formed, on their lips.

A hush fell.

Then—from the treeline—emerged a beast.

Just one.

A wolf-like creature, barely Rank 2.

In the camp, the disciples of the God Temple and the Night Goddess’s church burst into laughter.

"Heh, that’s it?" one scoffed, stepping forward with a grin.

"Barely worth the breath to cast a spell," muttered another, already turning away.

The first disciple raised his blade lazily. "Poor mutt wandered into the wrong camp."

With a single swing, the beast fell.

Dead before it hit the ground.

No hesitation. No glory. Just routine.

Selina frowned. "Didn’t we just clear this whole area?"

Eiden said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on the trees.

They were just starting to relax again when the second sound came.

Footsteps—this time louder, faster.

Many.

Then they appeared.

Dozens.

A hundred, maybe more.

All wolf-like beasts.

All Rank 2.

Their eyes glowing faintly. Their howls rolled through the night like a mockery of a war song.

Howl. Howl. Howl.

But still, the disciples didn’t panic.

Why would they?

They were Rank 3 magicians—trained, tested, trusted.

The beasts were only Rank 2. Barely a threat. Barely worth their time.

Some stood up with a yawn, others with a smirk.

Then came the slaughter.

Spells crackled. Blades danced. The beasts never stood a chance.

Kael stood at the edge of the camp, unmoving. Watching.

After a few minutes, it was over.

The disciples returned, blood-splashed and smug.

"That all they’ve got?" one said, laughing.

"I didn’t even use my full chant," another grinned.

Mocking, relaxed.

The arrogance was back in full swing.

But Eiden stayed still, eyes scanning the trees.

"I don’t like this," he said quietly. "I’m getting a bad feeling."

Ronan scoffed.

"What? Those were just Rank 2 mutts. You worry too much."

Selina didn’t speak right away. Her brow furrowed, her gaze sharp.

"No... Something’s wrong. Something’s terrib—"

She didn’t finish.

Because the footsteps came again.

Heavier this time.

Louder. Closer.

The mocking disciples turned toward the sound, still smirking—at first.

Then they saw them.

More beasts emerged from the forest.

Not just wolves this time. Not just Rank 2.

There were new forms now—bulkier, faster, with glowing eyes.

Some of them unmistakably Rank 3.

Still more than before.

Much more.

The camp’s laughter vanished like smoke.

A silence fell—sharp and sudden.

One disciple whispered, "That... that one wasn’t Rank 2..."

Someone shouted, "What are you hesitating for? They’re still—"

He choked on the words.

More beasts burst from the trees. Then more. And more.

Different shapes. Wrong shapes.

Rank 1. Rank 2. Rank 3.

Snarling. Screeching. Crawling. Flying.

The ground trembled.

Too many.

Now—finally—they panicked.

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