Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 253: Chapter 248: Ambush

Velin’s voice echoed in the narrow tunnel.

He mentally guided them on the three-dimensional map constructed in their minds, pointing to a weak node in the basalt layer.

"This will be their tomb."

Ola’s breathing was heavy. He shouldered his battle axe, staring at the node and imagining the seawater that would gush out after they broke through the rock wall.

"How are we supposed to fight? In the water, my Knights will be nothing but a pile of tin cans."

"We’re not fighting in the water." Velin withdrew his finger.

"We’re turning the battlefield into dry land."

He turned to Sarah and issued a new directive.

"Above the predetermined ambush point, excavate a vertical space that’s wide enough. I want a dry cavern, able to accommodate fifty combatants. At the same time, create several drainage channels at the bottom of the cavern that connect to deeper strata."

"As you command, Father."

The swarm’s excavation direction changed immediately.

Barrett watched the changes on the map and understood Velin’s intention.

They were going to create a "pocket."

The enemy would break through the wall of the tunnel below, not into another underwater world, but into a dry killing field.

The seawater would be quickly drained away by the pre-made channels.

A trap that would give them the advantage.

「On the surface, in the Lord’s Mansion.」

The lights in Tristan’s temporary office were burning bright.

Dozens of clerks were organizing stacks of resident files, and the air was thick with the smell of parchment and ink.

"Next," Tristan’s voice was steady.

An old man with graying hair and a wrinkled face was brought in.

He walked with his legs slightly splayed, a sign of having spent years living on a rocking deck.

"Were you a sailor?" Tristan asked.

"Yes, my lord." The old man seemed uneasy. "When I was young, I worked ten years on the Dawn Messenger, sailing the North Sea route."

"Have you seen any of the Sea Race with eight tentacles that walk like humans?"

A muscle in the old man’s face twitched, and fear flashed in his cloudy eyes.

He grabbed the cup of water from the table and downed it in one gulp.

"The Multi-Armed Race..." he muttered the name, his voice muffled. "The reapers of the deep. That’s what we all called them."

Tristan leaned forward, signaling the clerk to write quickly.

"What are their characteristics? What weapons do they use?"

"Weapons?" The old man gave a self-deprecating laugh. "My lord, no one’s ever seen their weapons. Anyone who has is now a lost soul at the bottom of the sea."

He shakily raised a finger.

"They don’t need weapons. Their song alone can make the strongest keel scream in agony. Even the best lookouts on a ship can’t spot them. By the time you hear the song, the ship is already starting to break apart."

"A song?"

"Yes, a low hum that comes from the depths of the sea. When you hear that sound, iron nails work themselves loose from the planks, and masts snap on their own."

The clerk’s pen stopped. He looked up at Tristan.

This sounded less like a combat report and more like a horror story from a tavern.

Tristan didn’t interrupt, signaling for the old man to continue.

The old man described a storm he encountered on a voyage many years ago, and the faint humming he’d heard within it.

Of their fleet of three ships, only his had managed to escape by a stroke of luck. Not even the wreckage of the other two was ever found.

Tristan had the clerk give the old man a few Silver Moons and saw him out.

"My lord, these notes..." the clerk began, looking troubled. "They’re filled with sailor’s exaggerations and fear. They’re probably worthless."

"No, it has value." Tristan looked at the notes. "’A low hum,’ ’shattering a ship’s frame.’ This corroborates our observations of them using high-frequency vibrations from their tentacles to pulverize rock."

But this wasn’t what he was looking for.

He took the report and walked into Velin’s study.

"There’s too little information."

After reading the report, Velin tapped his fingers on the desk.

This information was practically useless. It was impossible to formulate tactics based on it.

He thought for a moment.

"Tristan, go to the stables and have the trainer get Nefarian ready."

Nefarian, Velin’s Pegasus with gray-black wings.

"Send the fastest possible message to Miss Caroline of the Golden Sail Commerce Association. Tell her I need all intelligence on the ’Multi-Armed Race’ or any similar deep-sea intelligent species. Any records, captain’s logs, or even sketches of salvaged artifacts—I want it all."

Velin stood up.

He knew very well that when it came to the secrets of the ocean, no one knew more than the Golden Sail Commerce Association, which dealt with the sea year-round.

Velin didn’t stay idle while waiting for the intelligence.

He took Ola and Barrett to a newly excavated underground warehouse.

In the center of the warehouse were dozens of sealed earthenware jars.

Velin opened one of them, releasing a scent that was a mixture of blood and plants.

Inside the jar was a dark red, viscous gel, enveloping black seeds the size of fingernails.

"This is an improved version of the ’Molten-Fire Blood-sucking Vine.’" Velin picked up a gel-coated seed and showed it to them.

"I call it ’Gel’."

"These casings are concocted from the tissue fluids of various magical creatures, making them both highly nutritious and adhesive."

Velin explained to his officers.

"Once they adhere to the surface of a living organism, the casing rapidly provides the initial energy for the seed’s growth. Then, I can remotely activate them through my [Spring Messenger]."

"The speed of their growth will be faster than anything you’ve ever seen before."

To demonstrate, Velin had a shield guard raise his heavy shield, made from Gray Swamp Crocodile hide, and stand twenty meters away.

A Scout stepped forward, his crossbow modified to fire these special gel projectiles.

He pulled the trigger.

A red gel projectile flew in an arc, landing squarely in the center of the steel shield. The viscous gel immediately spread out, sticking firmly to it.

A faint glimmer flashed in Velin’s wine-red eyes.

The next moment, the gel on the shield burst violently.

Innumerable crimson vines erupted from the gel. They were as thin as strands of hair but possessed a metallic texture.

The vines grew frantically, intertwining and wrapping around the heavy shield until, within seconds, they had cocooned it in a bloody-red mass.

Tightening.

Contracting.

"CREEEAAAK... GRIIIND..."

The cringe-inducing sound of twisting metal filled the air.

The heavy shield, forged from fine steel and strong enough to block a warhammer, visibly warped and buckled.

The shield guard staggered, pulled off-balance by the immense force, and nearly fell.

He let go in terror, allowing the twisted shield to fall to the ground.

The vines continued to tighten, ultimately crushing the shield into a lump of scrap metal.

Ola swallowed hard.

Barrett, however, walked directly over to the Scout and picked up the modified crossbow from his hands.

"The garrison is to switch to these ’Gel Arrows’ immediately."

Velin continued to give orders.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the base, the clinking of glassware could be heard from the alchemy workshop.

Valerius and his apprentices were working day and night, analyzing the energy circulation pattern of the "Symbiotic Pressure Carapace."

They were already making preliminary progress on a targeted Alchemy Potion.

All preparations were complete.

Velin led his ambush team into the newly excavated dry cavern, located directly above the enemy’s tunnel.

The interior of the cavern was rough, its walls covered with claw marks from the excavation by the Worker Ants.

The floor sloped downward, connecting at its lowest point to several seemingly bottomless drainage vents.

The air was oppressive. The only sound was water dripping from rock fissures to the floor below.

Barrett’s six Scouts found their optimal firing positions and melted into the shadows.

Ola and his heavy shield guards formed a steel defensive line at the entrance to the cavern.

Through their Hive Terminals, everyone could see the approaching red dot of light in their minds.

The source of the enemy’s vibrations.

It was steadily and rapidly ascending toward them.

Velin stood in the center of the cavern, closed his eyes, and felt the vibrations from the rock layer beneath his feet grow stronger and stronger.

’They’re here.’

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