Grey leaned against a cold boulder, trying to gather his thoughts. The campfire's heat washed over his face, now noticeably thinner after the past two weeks.
He could hear the quiet whispers of his companions as they talked about when they would finally get a proper meal, but he ignored their endless complaints.
Not long ago, they had tracked down and eliminated the tenth group of cultists. They followed the same proven routine every time. Prepare the ambush in advance, lure the enemy in with bait, strike without warning, interrogate whoever survived, then erase every trace.
No freelancing or improvisation.
Just a simple and ruthless pattern they repeated again and again.
The first few operations had been clumsy. The teenagers were nervous, afraid of making mistakes. Their teamwork left much to be desired, and the enemy put up fierce resistance because no one would simply stand still and wait to die.
The cultists wanted to survive.
Once trapped, they always tried to escape. And when they realized there was no way out, they did everything they could to drag at least one of their attackers down with them.
Three teenagers had been seriously wounded during only the second assault, but they had miraculously survived thanks to Grey and Kai, who had pinned the enemy down with an unending barrage of arrows.
Still, real experience was the best teacher. With every successful mission, their small group became more seasoned and worked together more smoothly.
By the end of the first week, the teenagers had grown used to hunting and killing. They no longer felt nervous or afraid. Slaughtering cultists had become routine, just another job they carried out every day.
Watching his subordinates improve, Grey caught himself thinking they reminded him of a group of newborns.
At first, every little achievement had made him happy. Took your first steps? Well done. Said your first word? You'll definitely grow up to be a genius. But little by little, his expectations had risen and become much harsher.
Now he considered it wasteful to use more than three people to take down a Legionary (2), or more than five for a Centurion (3).
He even considered splitting the team into two separate groups so they could take better advantage of the information gap and their numerical superiority, but in the end he abandoned the idea, judging it far too risky.
"Don't get greedy. Be satisfied with small victories. They're still not ready," he reminded himself as he roasted the rabbit they had just caught over the fire.
They had wiped out two search parties today, but Grey felt uneasy because the last one had not consisted of three people, but five.
And two of them had reached the Centurion level.
Such a "minor" change put Grey on high alert. He felt it was time to bring Operation "Even a Lion Falls Before the Pack" to an end.
Both personalities were in complete agreement on that.
After all, the core principle of guerrilla warfare was absolute caution. You never attacked an enemy that was prepared, and you retreated the moment anything seemed unusual. Otherwise, it was only a matter of time before you were discovered and turned from the hunter into the prey.
Grey was not all-knowing, and he had no idea how the enemy would respond, so he remained vigilant even while everyone around him demanded decisive action.
The teenagers were not veterans and did not understand how dangerous the current situation really was. The lack of casualties and their string of successful ambushes had filled them with confidence. They had grown arrogant and were already talking about when they would wipe out the cultists once and for all and avenge the other victims who had been left behind forever in the Arakis Desert.
Even now, they still had the energy to joke around and talk about the bright future waiting for them.
"Ahahaha, I still can't believe we took out two groups in a single day. Even two real Centurions couldn't break out of our trap. And only a few of us have even started cultivating! I think once Sir Grey helps us 'awaken,' we'll wipe out the entire cult!"
"That's right. At first all we had were kitchen knives and rocks. Now we've got more weapons than we need, and the whole group's strength has increased..."
"We were afraid of those cultists for nothing. If Sir Grey had been with us back in the Arakis Desert when there were a hundred of us, a lot more people would have survived, and the cult wouldn't have dared look down on us."
"Idiot! We didn't have any weapons back then! Besides, we wouldn't have been able to set up an ambush. Things are already great as they are. I like killing them one by one. Maybe they're already feeling desperate, wondering when our team will come for them."
"Ahahaha, well said, brother. Once we're done with the cult, I'll take you out for a drink. I heard that's how soldiers on the front celebrate victory."
"What about a triumph? We managed to collect a bit of money from their corpses. Should we stroll proudly through the streets or throw a grand feast?"
"You want to leave a few weaklings alive, lock them in cages just like they locked us up, and parade them through the streets as a warning to everyone else? Ahahaha, I'd love to see the pathetic looks on their faces while they beg us for mercy."
"Ahahaha, I'd rather eat until I'm full. These rations are way too small. I ate, but my stomach's still growling..."
"Ahahaha, just wait until the operation is over."
Listening to their carefree chatter, Grey wanted to curse three generations of their ancestors for raising such idiots.
Did they really not understand how dangerous their situation was? They were literally walking on the edge of a blade. The enemy still outnumbered them, had better equipment, and possessed greater strength. One wrong decision and their entire team would be wiped out. Yet these fools could think of nothing except how wonderful it would be to celebrate their victory.
But Grey had no intention of scolding them, because he felt the same excitement himself. His blood boiled with every successful kill, and the ambitions he had buried deep inside for so long were beginning to burn out of control.
Only his iron will and his awareness of his own weakness allowed him to stay clear-headed and resist the arrogance growing inside him.
Grey thought about what to do next.
According to his original plan, they were supposed to operate in every possible direction to throw the cult further off their trail and prevent them from even estimating the location of their hideout.
Unfortunately, as always, the plan was simple in theory but difficult in practice.
It was easy to set up ambushes in Thorn's Tabernacles and Devil's Pass, but the same could not be said for the Arakis Desert. Hiding in the mountains or forests was simple, but concealing an entire group in the open desert was practically impossible, let alone luring the enemy into a trap without raising suspicion.
In the end, the newly formed organization of "Avengers" could only operate in two directions and abandon the third, indirectly exposing themselves.
There was a small hope that the enemy would continue to underestimate them and assume that a group of children could never eliminate their followers with such coordination and consistency, but Grey refused to rely on something as unreliable as luck.
Having made his final decision, he finished chewing the tough rabbit meat, took a long drink of water, and rose to his feet, drawing the attention of his subordinates.
Over the past two weeks, his authority had grown considerably.
The teenagers looked at him with shining eyes, waiting for his orders. Their hearts pounded with anticipation and the hope his very presence inspired in them. Excitement and impatience were plainly written across their faces.
Indeed, nothing strengthened the loyalty of followers more than a string of real victories over the enemy under the command of a wise leader.
"Listen to me carefully," Grey began in a cold, merciless voice. "Operation 'Even a Lion Falls Before the Pack' ends here. We've achieved our goal. Congratulations. Now pack up the camp and return immediately!
Erase every trace and prepare to relocate. We'll move under the cover of night. No talking. No freelancing. I don't want even the owls to notice our team's presence. Is that clear?"
Silence fell over the camp.
For several seconds, the teenagers only exchanged glances, as if they couldn't believe they had heard their leader correctly. None of them dared to object out loud, but Grey could see the silent doubt on their confused faces.
"Has he lost his mind?"
"The plan's been going perfectly. Why not strike again?"
"There are still plenty of Centurions left in the cult. We haven't even eliminated half of them. So how can we stop now?"
Just like that, all the authority he had built up was called into question.
Grey waited. He had no intention of explaining anything and simply watched as the tension in the air continued to rise.
Their reaction was well within his expectations. Now he wanted to see how the teenagers would respond.
Would they rebel? Refuse to obey? Or would they follow his orders without asking unnecessary questions?
His future attitude toward them depended entirely on their response.
If they understood his concerns from this small hint alone, then they were worthy of promotion and would become the future pillars of the organization.
If they trusted him without demanding an explanation, then they were worth investing in, because their faith in him was truly strong.
If they refused to carry out his order, then he would cut all ties with them right here and now. People like that were not worth the resources spent on them.
Grey's face became completely expressionless. He stood as still as a statue, watching his subordinates the way an eagle watched a rabbit.
He was so nervous waiting for their response that his palms had started sweating, and his thoughts were in complete turmoil. After all, he had done so much for these teenagers and had grown deeply attached to them. It would hurt him more than anything if they chose not to trust him now.
The teenagers exchanged confused glances. The fire in their eyes had not gone out. They still wanted to keep fighting, still hungered for victory, and felt a trace of resentment toward the leader who was holding them back. Yet no one dared voice an objection.
Almost instinctively, every gaze turned toward the group's respected figures: Achill, Garen, and Sunny, as if hoping one of them would take the initiative.
Garen was the first to raise his hand and ask the question that was on everyone's mind.
"Why do we have to retreat?" he asked, his voice carrying the same boldness that made Grey value him as a fighter.
Grey lowered his head slightly and answered in an authoritative tone.
"Because I ordered it."
Achill was about to say something, but Sunny quickly covered his mouth with a hand. He shot him such a commanding and fierce look that Achill obediently fell silent and decided not to speak up.
Garen, who had never been known for his quick thinking, was about to press the issue, but Reus and Kai grabbed him by the shirt at the same time and smacked him hard across the head. Garen's head jerked to the side, and his next question died in his throat.
"You're a crude barbarian, not a philosopher! So why the hell are you asking questions?" Kai said bluntly. "Are you trying to make us all look like idiots? Your job is to follow orders, not rack your brain over what's right and what's wrong. So shut up and eat your rations!"
Grey remained silent, but a faint smile slowly curved across his lips.
His subordinates' reaction had been very revealing. Every movement, every expression, every subtle shift in posture told him more than any scout ever could. He was satisfied with what he had seen.
Then, all at once, everyone heard the sharp crack of a dry branch, as if someone had been trying to sneak up on them but failed miserably.
The sound rang through the silence like a clap of thunder. Their blood froze, and their hearts leaped into their throats.
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