Chapter 161' A Mother's Musing!

Chapter 161: A Mother's Musing!

Suddenly, one of the Level 4 Rhemon agents locked eyes on Ms. Caldwell. He froze mid-strike, his baton raised but forgotten as recognition dawned. Without a word, he began to push through the crowd of his fellow agents, shoving aside anyone in his path with a singular focus. His eyes burned with an intensity that drew the attention of the others.

The sound of batons striking the inexperienced Green Rhemonic warriors fell silent as the attackers paused, curious about his sudden shift in behavior. They parted, creating a narrow path as he strode toward Ms. Caldwell, who stood beside Mr. Thompson. The Green Rhemonic warriors, battered and faltering, instinctively closed ranks around the pair, their weakened bodies forming a fragile human shield.

The agent stopped a short distance from Ms. Caldwell, his gaze narrowing. "You're Ms. Caldwell, aren't you?" he said, his voice dripping with menace. "Tessa's adopted mother."

Before Ms. Caldwell could respond, Mr. Thompson stepped in front of her, his posture tense, though he knew his presence offered little actual protection. The surrounding warriors tightened their grips on their weapons, bracing for the inevitable.

Ms. Caldwell squinted, trying to make out the agent's face in the dimming evening light. She didn't confirm or deny his assertion. Instead, she replied evenly, "And who might you be? What relevance does that question have to the current situation?"

The agent let out a low, humorless laugh. "Ah, I see. You don't recognize me, but I've heard plenty about you." He turned slightly, addressing the other agents who were now watching intently. "This, gentlemen, is the woman who raised the monster."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the agents, quickly escalating into an uproar. The once-dispassionate soldiers now brimmed with seething rage as they shouted accusations, their voices thick with venom.

"She killed my brother!" one spat, stepping forward. "Left him unwhole—cut him down and removed his privates. Your bastard daughter did that!"

Another agent jabbed a finger toward Ms. Caldwell, his face twisted in fury. "Look at my eye! She gouged it out, that savage witch. And you raised her? I'll make you pay."

"My father!" another roared, his voice cracking with emotion. "She butchered him. If I don't kill you, his ghost will haunt me for eternity."

One of the younger agents, his face pale but twisted with hate, snarled, "She almost got me too. Narrow escape. But now, here you are, her mother. I'll make sure you don't leave this battlefield alive. I'll make you suffer."

The mob's cries grew louder, their hatred boiling over. Initially, their orders had been clear: capture the targets, alive if possible. But now, their mission had shifted. The revelation of Ms. Caldwell's connection to Tessa fueled their bloodlust, transforming their purpose from capture to revenge. Each man clamored for the chance to strike the fatal blow, to exact personal vengeance for past wounds.

Ms. Caldwell stood her ground, though her face betrayed her growing fear. In front of her, Mr. Thompson clenched his fists, his voice breaking through the chaos. "Enough! You want her? You'll have to go through me first."

The Green Rhemonic warriors braced themselves, knowing their strength was fading but determined to protect Ms. Caldwell and Mr. Thompson to the last. The tension thickened, the air heavy with impending violence as the agents circled like vultures, ready to pounce.

The agents surged forward, a furious tide of bodies barreling through the camp. They moved with the brute force of a stampede, smashing through the Green Rhemonic warriors like a herd of buffalo driven by bloodlust. The once-hopeful defensive line crumbled as the inexperienced warriors fell under the relentless assault.

Mr. Thompson stood firm before Ms. Caldwell, his grip tight on the hilt of a sword that felt far too heavy in his hands. The weapon trembled slightly as he raised it, its weight a stark reminder of his inadequacy in the face of such skilled attackers. For a fleeting moment, he marveled at how effortlessly Ecdy and Nymff had wielded their blades. Their grace and precision had made battle seem like an art. In his hands, the sword was little more than a clumsy shield.

Beside him was Ms. Caldwell who had a thoughtful expression with her face occasionally taking the shape of worry which would be etched in her features from time to time.

"Is this it?" Ms. Caldwell thought, her heart pounding as the agents closed in. She could see the rage etched into their faces, their eyes blazing with vengeance. This was no longer a mission of capture; it was a vendetta.

She thought back to how the evening had started. What had begun as a tranquil stroll under the amber hues of the setting sun had transformed into a nightmare—a one-sided assault orchestrated by Rhemon.

Rhemon, a being of malevolent fury, was hell-bent on punishing those who dared to disrupt his resurrection—those who had thwarted Ikehara's unholy mission to bring the devil back to life. At the forefront of this defiance stood the Green Rhemonics, led by the formidable trio: Tessa, Adrian, and Nyala. Together, they had become the ultimate thorn in Rhemon's side, an unyielding force determined to prevent the rise of unspeakable darkness.

Ms Caldwell cast a weary glance at the carnage unfolding around her. The Green Rhemonic warriors, brave but inexperienced, were falling one by one. Their bodies littered the ground, their valiant efforts now reduced to futile sacrifices. The weight of despair pressed heavily on her chest.

With a resigned sigh, Ms. Caldwell lowered her gaze. The odds were insurmountable. She couldn't help but wonder if Tessa would arrive in time. A pang of regret swelled within her as she thought of her daughter. Their moments together had always been fleeting—Tessa, constantly on the move, saving lives and completing missions.

"She's always been a hero," Ms. Caldwell mused, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "But her love for others has brought this upon us."

She sighed again, the sound a soft lament against the backdrop of chaos. This wasn't how she had envisioned their story ending. She had hoped for more time—more quiet evenings, more shared laughter. Now, as the agents drew closer, she could only brace herself for the inevitable.