The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans-Chapter 230: When the Hunter Becomes the Hunted

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In the middle of the Outlands, tents were pitched unevenly across the clearing, some leaning, others barely secured, their ropes hastily knotted and driven into damp earth that hadn't been properly cleared. Fires burned low and uneven, smoke curling lazily into the dawn air, giving the entire place a hazy, unsettled feel. Supplies were scattered instead of stacked. Weapons leaned against trees rather than being racked. There was no order, no structure, none of the ruthless efficiency the Crimson Hunt was known for.

And there were not many of them.

Barely fifty soldiers.

A pitiful number for a man who had declared himself Leader.

Inside the largest tent at the center of the camp, Adrian Vale paced.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

His boots kicked up dust from the ground cloth as his movements grew sharper, more erratic. His fingers twitched at his sides. His jaw stayed clenched so tightly it ached. Every few steps, he stopped, turned abruptly, and changed direction like a caged animal testing invisible walls.

Paranoid.

That was the word for it.

Liandrin's voice still echoed in his head, unwanted and persistent.

Conan was moving.

Adrian scoffed aloud, dragging a hand through his hair.

"No," he muttered. "Impossible."

He had left Mia with Conan.

Mia, whose spells could hold a mountain in chains if she wished. Her containment magic was strong. Adrian had seen it with his own eyes.

Conan could not escape that.

He would not escape that.

Liandrin had been lying. Old, stubborn, manipulative to the very end.

And yet....

Adrian stopped pacing.

His chest tightened.

What if she wasn't?

He shook his head violently, as if he could physically dislodge the thought.

"No," he said again, louder this time. "Mia had him contained."

The tent flap rustled.

One of his soldiers stepped inside, bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver strapped across his back. His posture was stiff, his expression carefully neutral, but there was something off about his eyes. A hesitation he hadn't bothered hiding well enough.

Adrian turned sharply.

He had sent the soldier earlier to the nearest Garrison to get supplies amd cars for them.

"Well?" he snapped. "Where are the supplies?"

The soldier swallowed. "My Lord… the garrison refused."

The words didn't register at first.

Adrian blinked. "Refused?"

"Yes, my Lord."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Adrian laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound.

"They what?"

"They refused to give us supplies," the soldier repeated, more cautiously now. "They said… they said they have no intention pf obeying anyone who is not the real leader of Crimson hunt"

Adrian's fury detonated.

"How dare they?" he roared. "I am the Leader of the Crimson Hunt! They cannot refuse me unless they wish to die!"

His voice rose, echoing violently inside the tent, raw with rage.

"Do they think this is a joke? Do they think they can test me like this?"

He spun, pointing a finger toward the tent opening.

"Go," he snarled. "Tell everyone to prepare. We march on that garrison immediately and we are going to slay them all."

The soldier bowed, subtly, too subtly, and turned to leave.

Adrian didn't notice.

He was already lost in his anger.

"When Conan was Leader," Adrian muttered, pacing again, "no one dared question an order. Not openly. Not even secretly. They all feared him."

His hands clenched.

"And now they dare refuse me?"

His steps slowed.

"I'll change that," he said softly. "They'll regret ever doubting me."

Something suddenly shifted.

Adrian stopped moving entirely.

The air felt.… wrong.

Too quiet.

He tilted his head, listening.

No voices.

No boots.

No clanking armor.

No murmured conversations, no crackle of fires being tended.

Silence.

Adrian's heart began to pound.

Slowly, he stepped out of the tent.

Morning mist clung thickly to the clearing, pale and cold, wrapping the trees in ghostly veils. The fires were still burning, but unattended. Weapons lay where they had been dropped.

And there was no one.

"Hello?" Adrian called.

His voice sounded thin in the open air.

"Anyone there?"

Nothing answered.

Then....

Movement.

Dozens of figures emerged from the mist.

They stepped out silently, forming a wide circle around him. Weapons raised. Bows drawn. Blades gleaming faintly through the fog.

Crimson Hunt soldiers.

And among them, his own.

Adrian's breath hitched.

A man stepped forward from the crowd, serrated sword resting easily in his grip. His face was scarred, his eyes sharp and unimpressed.

The Garrison Leader.

"So this is you," the man said, voice husky. "Adrian Vale. The one parading himself as the new Leader."

Adrian lifted his chin, refusing to show fear.

"I am not parading myself as your Leader," he snapped. "I am your Leader. And you will stop this insolence before I punish you for it."

The man laughed.

A genuine, humorless laugh.

"Too bad your charade ends here," he said. "The real Leader is back. And he wants you."

Adrian's blood turned to ice.

"Shackle him," the man commanded.

Adrian opened his mouth.

"Stop...."

Hands seized him from behind.

Something jammed violently between his teeth, gagging him, muffling his voice before a single command could leave his throat. He struggled, panic flaring as he was forced down to his knees and his hands tied behind his back.

The Garrison Leader crouched in front of him.

"I've heard about your little trick," he said conversationally. "Commanding people with your voice. That's the only thing special about you."

He brought out a dagger, its sharp edge catching the light.

"So tell me," he went on calmly. "What happens if I cut out your tongue?"

Adrian's eyes widened.

Fear finally cracked through his composure.

"The Leader wants you," the man continued, rising. "But he didn't say you had to be able to speak."

Adrian's pulse roared in his ears.

This was it.

Gagged. Tied. Surrounded. Helpless.

His power, gone.

This might just be the end of him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

Then....

The roar of an engine split the silence.

A car burst through the trees at full speed, tearing into the clearing like a missile. Soldiers scattered in shock as it plowed through the ring, bodies thrown aside before it slammed into a massive tree with a deafening crash.

Everyone froze.

Weapons lowered slightly as heads turned.

The Garrison Leader frowned. "Check it."

Several soldiers approached the wrecked car cautiously.

"It's empty!" someone shouted.

That was when it happened.

Hands grabbed Adrian.

Strong. Fast.

The world blurred.

The ground vanished beneath him as he was yanked up and hurled forward, the scenery streaking past in a dizzying rush of speed. Wind tore at his clothes, his breath knocked clean out of him as they crossed impossible distance in seconds.

Then, suddenly, they stopped.

Adrian stumbled, barely keeping his footing as he was released near the edge of a narrow stream. Water rushed past, loud and real and grounding.

He spun around. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

And froze.

Standing before him was Kieran Valerius Hunter.

The last person he ever expected to save him.

"Kieran?!!!"