The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 212: Most Lethal???

The forest seemed to hold its breath.

What moments ago had been filled with the low crackle of campfire and the muted clatter of equipment now stood frozen under the pale morning light. The fog had begun to lift, but the air felt heavier, thicker, as if the Sylven Forest itself had leaned closer to listen.

Everyone gathered at the edge of the slope.

The two bodies lay sprawled on the uneven ground, limbs twisted unnaturally, faces locked in expressions of terror so raw it made even hardened men avert their eyes. Their pupils were wide, staring at nothing, veins on their temples bulging as if fear itself had tried to tear its way out from within. There were no claw marks. No bite wounds. No sign of struggle against an animal.

Only bullets.

Spent rounds from their own magazines had been carefully arranged around them, pressed into the soil with deliberate intent. Not scattered. Not random.

Arranged.

Elias stumbled forward, boots crunching against gravel. His breath came sharp and uneven.

"No... no... no..."

He dropped to one knee beside the bodies, hands hovering but never touching, as though even the act of contact might confirm the reality he desperately wanted to deny.

"Who did this?" Elias whispered, his voice cracking. "This is not an animal. This is not the forest. This is human."

Kaelo crouched down, eyes narrowing as he studied the pattern.

"No beast does this," he said quietly. "No spirit either."

Basil stood stiffly behind him, his face pale, jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. He had seen violence before. He had ordered it, survived it, lived with it. But this was different. This was not chaos. This was intention.

Hilda swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she brought it to her mouth. Her eyes darted between the bodies and the surrounding trees, scanning shadows, branches, movement that was not there. Or perhaps was, but unseen.

The Monk remained silent.

He stood perfectly still, hands folded behind his back, gaze steady as he surveyed the scene. His men spread out instinctively, backs to one another, weapons raised but fingers disciplined. They did not panic. They watched.

Artem finally stepped forward.

His boots stopped just short of the circle of bullets. For a long moment he said nothing, his face unreadable, eyes fixed on the ground. Then slowly, almost unwillingly, he exhaled.

"That arrangement," Artem said, his voice low. "That is not random."

Basil turned sharply. "What do you mean?"

Artem lifted his hand and traced the air above the bullets without touching them.

"They are forming a shape."

Elias looked up, anger and fear colliding in his eyes. "What shape?"

Artem hesitated. The hesitation itself sent a ripple of unease through the group.

Miles, who had stood slightly apart from the others, finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost detached, cutting cleanly through the rising tension.

"Say it."

Artem’s throat moved as he swallowed.

"A half moon."

Silence fell like a blade.

Even the forest seemed to react. The distant calls of birds faded. The wind through the leaves slowed to a whisper. Somewhere far away, a branch cracked, sharp and loud in the stillness.

Basil felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Elias pushed himself to his feet, his face dark, eyes burning. He looked around wildly, as if expecting someone to step out from behind the trees and laugh.

"This is impossible," Elias muttered.

Elias wiped his face with his hand, his jaw clenched tight. His eyes moved from the bodies on the ground to the shadows between the trees, as if expecting the forest itself to answer him.

"It’s the same mark," Elias said, his voice low but shaking beneath the surface. "The same mark that killed our two friends back on the mainland."

Artem took a step back, his boots sinking slightly into the damp soil. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first.

"No," he finally said. "This cannot be coincidence. They are behind this."

Before anyone could react, Elias lunged forward and grabbed Miles by the collar. The sudden movement sent a ripple of panic through the group.

"Basil," Elias snapped without looking away from Miles. "You said he was clean. You said he had nothing to do with that incident."

Miles did not resist. He did not even tense. He simply looked at Elias with calm, almost bored eyes.

"You are accusing me now?" Miles said evenly. "Then why don’t you ask your dear friend Artem who is really behind it?"

Kaelo narrowed his eyes and turned toward Artem. "Yes. You said they are behind. Who are you talking about?"

The circle tightened. Fear sharpened curiosity, and curiosity turned into desperation. Every pair of eyes locked onto Artem.

Miles tilted his head slightly. "Come on. You started this. Tell us what you mean?"

Artem swallowed hard. His hands trembled as he lowered them to his sides.

"We are not the only humans who are in this forest," he said.

Elias released Miles slowly, his expression shifting from rage to confusion. "What do you mean?"

Artem looked past them, toward the towering trees. "My father told me. There are tribal people here. The forest is their god. They do not welcome outsiders."

Artem’s eyes sharpened. "The Half Moon Tribe."

Hilda sucked in a breath. "Half Moon Tribe?"

Kaelo scoffed nervously. "So you are saying these forest people are attacking us?"

Before Artem could answer, a shout cut through the tension.

"Who is there?"

A man on the edge of the group raised his rifle, finger already tightening on the trigger. Everyone spun toward the sound.

A figure flashed between the trees. White cloth. Bare feet. Moving like mist.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets tore through leaves and bark, echoing violently in the forest. The tribal man ran without looking back, weaving through the trees as if the forest itself opened paths for him.

"Kill him," Elias shouted.

More shots rang out, but the figure vanished into the green.

Basil raised his hand sharply. "Stop. He is gone. Don’t waste your bullets."

The silence returned, heavier than before.

Elias rounded on Artem, fury blazing in his eyes. "You hid this from us. They killed my men. When were you planning to tell us? When everyone was dead."

Artem’s voice cracked. "I did not think it mattered anymore. The mining project was cancelled. I thought they were gone."

Monk finally stepped forward. His voice was calm, almost unsettling. "If they live here, how could they kill our people on the mainland?"

Miles let out a soft laugh, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Daylight and humanity’s most lethal weapons," he said. "And still cannot stop a so-called primitive man. What a loss.!!"

Elias stared at him. "You knew this, didn’t you?"

"I knew nothing," Miles replied without hesitation.

Kaelo tilted his head. "Didn’t your grandfather tell you about them?"

Miles laughed again, sharper this time. "Grandfather??. I have not seen him in almost two decades. I got a key from a bank vault he left behind. That is all."

Elias froze. "What?"

"I know nothing about the Half Moon Tribe," Miles continued. "Not until now."

Artem clenched his fists. "My father said they have connections to the mainland. That is how they stopped the mining project. They opened the dam and caused the flood. They captured my father. But he escaped somehow, losing his arm in the process."

Hilda whispered, "Then the people outside?"

"They somehow manage to alert the tribe," Artem said. "The tribe found out about this hunt. That is why they are dead."

Basil exhaled slowly, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. "This is too much information to reveal this late. We came unprepared. Now we have an entire tribe hunting us."

Elias looked around at the group, his anger slowly reshaping into something colder. Calculated.

"We adapt," he said. "Guns stay with you at all times. If you see anything suspicious, alert everyone."

His gaze settled on Miles.

"And most important," Elias continued, "protect Miles Sterling. I will not let my men die for nothing."

The forest answered with silence.

The camp did not last long after that discovery.

Tents were folded with hands that no longer joked. Ropes were pulled tight. Ashes were buried. Every man moved with the sharp awareness of prey that had learned it was being watched. No one spoke much. Even Elias had fallen into silence, his eyes constantly moving, measuring shadows, counting steps.

They moved in formation now.

Not the loose arrogant march from the river, but a tight calculated advance. Front scouts checked the ground. Side guards watched the tree line. Rear guards counted footsteps and listened for anything that did not belong to the forest.

Leaves crunched under boots. Moist soil clung to soles. The forest breathed around them.

Miles walked near the center with Maddox. His face was calm, almost detached, as if this was not a hunt but a familiar road he had walked before. Maddox stayed half a step behind, eyes alert, fingers relaxed but ready.

Artem whispered without looking at anyone.

"Something is wrong. This forest is moving against us."

Basil answered quietly.

"It always was. We just refused to notice."

They walked for another stretch when the ground ahead suddenly shifted.

Not a sound. Not a growl.

Just movement.

A sharp rustling sound came from the left, low and fast, not from the trees but from the ground itself.

One of the men froze mid step.

"What is that?"

Before anyone could answer, the undergrowth exploded.

Something massive surged out from beneath the fallen leaves, its body rippling like a living chain. Yellow legs flashed in dozens, moving in terrifying coordination. The creature reared halfway up, its segmented body glistening dark green and amber under the filtered sunlight.

Hilda screamed.

Several men stumbled back at once, guns swinging wildly.

The zoologist shouted over the chaos.

"Do not panic Do not get close"

Artem stared, breath caught in his throat.

"What the hell is that thing??"

The zoologist swallowed hard, eyes wide even as he forced himself to speak.

"Scolopendra gigantea, The giant centipede"

The creature stretched further, easily longer than a man’s arm, closer to half a meter in length. Thick antennae waved slowly as if tasting the air. Its legs clicked against stone and root, each movement deliberate, confident.

Kaelo muttered under his breath.

"That is not supposed to exist"

To be continued...