Chapter 31: Useful Fodder

The battle concluded swiftly with the demise of the last of the Elder Gods, struck down by the formidable party. Instead of pausing to excavate the powerful cores from the vanquished abominations—a prize by any standard—the group pressed on with urgency, their steps quick and determined through the war-torn landscape.

Each member of the party carried a heavy silence, their faces set in grim lines. Known as the Elites of the Ntuli people, they were seasoned warriors whose reputation had been forged through countless battles. Their prowess was undisputed, having cleared their path of adversaries with surgical precision and without sustaining a single casualty. This victory, however, felt different; the weight of their continuous struggles began to press down on them.

The Elder Gods were formidable foes, each possessing the destructive power to obliterate a small town. Facing one was akin to confronting a battalion; facing a group was a catastrophe at a national level. These beings were not merely powerful—they were cataclysms incarnate, and the ambush they faced had come in relentless, crushing waves.

"This is bad. Our members' resolves will wane at this rate," Barak observed aloud, his voice cutting through the charged silence. He surveyed his companions, his expression somber and unreadable, a stark contrast to the worry etched across the faces of his comrades. His concern was not just for their physical stamina but for their mental fortitude as well. The continuous onslaught, the magnitude of their adversaries, and the unrelenting pace they maintained were taking a toll. If they did not find a moment to regroup and recover soon, Barak feared the resolve that had carried them thus far might begin to falter under the strain.

From the outset, the journey had been marred by incessant ambushes by the prowling Elder Gods. What started as a mere annoyance soon escalated into a persistent nuisance. With each surprise attack, the intervals between encounters dwindled, fueling the frustration and irritation among the party members.

Isha, like others in the group, found herself exerting more energy than necessary to quickly dispatch these foes. With every new skirmish, a reckless abandon took hold of the party; caution was tossed aside as they focused solely on the elimination of threats. This manifested in various ways: some members entered a frenzied state, indiscriminately attacking anything that moved on more than two legs after their frustration reached a boiling point. Others resorted to using large-scale attacks that were not only excessive but also drained significant amounts of their stamina. Meanwhile, many would simply charge headlong at the first sight of an enemy, prioritizing immediate confrontation over strategic engagement.

This constant cycle of battle wore heavily on their resolves and, crucially, depleted their stamina. The constant engagement without reprieve was taking its toll, not just physically but also mentally.

Huey, who had only spent a limited amount of time among the Ntuli Tribe, made an observation that perhaps it wasn't just the individuals he had encountered but a characteristic of the civilization itself. The Natives of the apocalypse, as he came to understand, were markedly aggressive. This aggressiveness wasn't just a trait—it was ingrained in their civilization. It seemed that the more they were provoked, the more their emotional responses, particularly anger and hatred, dominated their actions. This tendency was a double-edged sword, driving them to fight tirelessly but also leading them into increasingly risky and uncalculated battles.

The emotional nature of the party's response to their enemies highlighted a vulnerability. As the group became more and more agitated with each ambush, their strategic discipline unraveled, revealing a fundamental challenge that they would need to overcome to survive and succeed in their perilous quest.

Barak's typically rugged demeanor was subdued as he posed his observations from the back of the group, a strategic position that allowed him to monitor the morale and condition of his fellow members effectively. "We have come across more groups of Elder Gods than any ordinary Den would have, and we are yet to still arrive at our target location. The constant ambushes are also strange; other than being a nuisance, if I knew any better, isn't there a pattern here?" His voice, calm and analytical, was a stark contrast to his usual barbaric tone, indicating the depth of his concern.

At the front of the group, leading with quiet confidence, was the young warrior they had all seen in the briefing room. This expedition was under his command, and his leadership would be pivotal in navigating the challenges ahead.

Barak continued, voicing a thought that had been circulating among the ranks. "There are talks about a supposed 'Boss' controlling and coordinating all these rogue Elder Gods. You don't suppose that's also the reason for our continuous run-ins with the groups of Elder Gods so far, do you?" He directed his question to the person next to him, seeking to gauge others' perspectives and perhaps uncover any shared suspicions or insights they might have. 

As Barak shared his insights beside him, Huey's response was less than enthusiastic. "I suppose—Don't talk to me, you big oaf!! Also, why are you here?!" he snapped, frustration coloring his tone as he glared at the large, seemingly unwelcome presence of Barak. Despite Huey's protests, Barak, focused and undeterred, continued his line of reasoning.

"Indeed. But I also find it hard to believe. Elder Gods, those creatures aren't known to be strategic or that intelligent. Perhaps the groups until now were really more like scouts to a bigger body just as we thought—" Barak mused aloud, his thoughts uninterrupted by Huey's verbal jabs.

"Oiii! What the hell? Sherlock? I've seen that movie before! Now don't pretend to ignore me just as much as you pretend to think you actually have brain cells to reason!!" Huey ranted, his voice rising in indignation.

Amidst the tirade, a sudden realization struck Barak. "You're right! That in itself poses its own problems as well," he said, his voice gaining an edge of urgency as the implications of his own words became clearer to him. In the background, Huey's exasperated shouts of "Listen to me!!" barely registered as Barak pieced together the broader strategic picture.

"To even have numerous groups of Elder Gods serve as scouts... the situation might be more dire than we originally thought it to be. The Boss of the Den could turn out to be an even bigger monster than anything we have expected." Barak's expression grew cold and stern, his sharp azure eyes reflecting a menacing resolve as he gazed forward, considering the gravity of their predicament.

At this point, Huey just gave up.

"...None of that matters to me. I already warned you that this too many people would only serve as dead weight and fodder to that creature. I alone am more than enough." Huey retorted coldly. His voice echoed through the underground walls enough for the whole group to hear and glare ominously.

Huey's declaration hung heavily in the air, his icy tone reverberating off the underground walls, ensuring every member of the group felt the weight of his words. His expression, cold and unwavering, matched the sharpness of his aura that seemed to cut through the surrounding darkness.

"I don't give a damn what you all think of me. No, if anything, the longer I continue to live without your opinions or permission swells my ego! I hadn't said anything before, and this warning might be coming in a little late at this point, but i have three things to add to all you dead weights and gravel, " Huey's cold expression was completely motionless and dark. 

 His words, cold and dismissive, echoed ominously through the ancient tunnels, resonating with a menacing undertone. His expression remained utterly impassive, his eyes devoid of empathy as he raised three fingers, the shadows around them seeming to stir in eerie accord with his dark intent.

"Don't get in my way, I'll kill you. If you hold me back, I'll kill you," he continued, his voice steady and unyielding. He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group with a dismissive scrutiny, "and die like fodder. Even fodder is useful because it's fodder to people like myself."

The wounded egos of the warriors rose in revolution and seething bloodlust.

They had heard it.

Huey's words were the final blow.

Their barely restrained bloodlust seethed, and to hell with the expedition and the Elder Gods. All that mattered was the firsaken bastard who dared to show his face and insult their honor.

"How dare you..." 

Huey's expression remained stoically cold with dark eyes that reflected the void. This wasn't his usual mask, this was Huey Blades reaction to blatant animosity against him.

"Enough." A single word dispelled the enmity and hatred brewing in the atmosphere.

Barak's pressure exploded forth like a burst dam submerging the entire underground structure and those surrounded by it. The members of the party, all of them held their breaths voluntarily, instinctively opting not to breathe.

Barak's commanding presence immediately altered the dynamics within the tense group. His authoritative tone and the sheer force of his aura demanded attention and respect, something that was second nature to a leader of his stature. As his words echoed through the cavern, a palpable shift occurred among the warriors.

The underlying threat in Barak's voice was clear; it was a call for order and discipline amidst the brewing chaos. His stature as a seasoned warrior and a respected figure within their ranks lent weight to his command, challenging the discord sown by Huey's earlier provocations.

"Warrior of the walls, lower your sword," Barak repeated, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Huey. The tension was palpable, each member of the party felt the weight of his authority, and the atmosphere thickened with a mix of anticipation and subdued aggression.

The focus now turned to Huey, whose blade had, perhaps subconsciously, drifted from the ground in a gesture that spoke volumes of his readiness to defend his stance, regardless of the consequences. His cold, dark eyes, which moments ago reflected a deep void, now acknowledged the gravity of Barak's intervention.

Another glance revealed Huey, his figure enshrouded in a ghostly red aura. His long black hair floated eerily, and his eyes burned like pools of blood. The aura around him was sharp, slicing through the air as if it were a fine blade.

"Warrior..." Barak began, but before he could continue, Huey contained his animosity, drawing it back within himself.

Silence fell over the tunnels. Then, with sharpened eyes and a commanding voice, Huey alerted the party.

"Ambush!"