Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 281: Chapter 276: The Catch

"Now, it’s our turn to close the net!"

Sea Wolf’s manic laughter echoed over the public channel, sounding the death knell for the Warriors of the Multi-Armed Race.

The sound of spearguns piercing the water echoed ceaselessly across the battlefield.

Each shot sent another steel spear, coated in a paralyzing agent, hurtling toward the enemy.

After the ordeal of the electric nets and the breaking of their "Black Tide," the surviving Warriors of the Multi-Armed Race could no longer mount an effective defense.

A Knight bashed aside an enemy’s guard with his heavy shield. His comrade at his side, in a display of perfect coordination, thrust a halberd through the gap and lopped off the creature’s tentacle.

Similar scenes played out again and again across the coral reef.

Velin’s army was systematically annihilating the Sea Race.

However, just as the one-sided slaughter reached its crescendo, a bizarre scene unfolded on the battlefield.

Grash watched as his kinsmen were picked off one by one, spearguns pinning them to the coral. Their bodies went limp, necks twisting at odd angles as tendrils of dark blue blood drifted into the water.

The light in his eyes faded, bit by bit, until all that remained was gray ash, like charcoal burned to cinders.

He knew it was all over.

As a General, he had lost.

But as a member of the Multi-Armed Race, there was one last thing he had to do.

He turned to face the handful of wounded Personal Guards still by his side.

"Go home."

Grash’s voice was quiet, nearly inaudible amid the chaos of the battlefield, but his Personal Guards heard him with perfect clarity.

They stopped resisting and looked at their General in confusion.

"Take the kinsmen who are still alive..."

Grash’s tentacle pointed to their brethren twitching on the seafloor, tormented by the paralytic poison.

"...their heads, and go home."

The order seemed bloody and cruel, yet no one questioned it.

One of the Personal Guards immediately swam toward a comrade who had been struck by the electric net, one half of his body charred black.

The warrior was still alive, letting out unconscious groans.

When he saw the Personal Guard raise a bone blade, his eyes showed not fear or pleading, but only relief.

The bone blade fell.

A head was carefully placed into a net pouch woven from the intestines of a Sea Beast.

As long as the heads remained, there was still hope.

This was the Multi-Armed Race’s last resort for continuing their lineage, and their final hope.

More of the Personal Guard abandoned their futile resistance. They rushed to their kinsmen and began to carry out this final task.

Blue blood dripped from the Ola Battleaxe. He halted his charge, watching the bizarre scene unfold, his beard swaying gently in the water.

’What are they doing? Have they gone mad?’

He muttered to himself.

The Knights around him were just as confused, and they slowed their attacks.

Meanwhile, Grash no longer paid any mind to the shifting battle lines.

He knew that as a General, his mission was over.

He turned and faced Ola once more.

The aftereffects of sacrificing his heart were setting in rapidly. His muscles were visibly atrophying, and the once-hard carapace of his body had lost its luster, turning a dull gray.

He raised his bone blade, pointing it at Ola from afar.

"Come then, little man."

Ola said nothing. He swallowed a mouthful of bloody spit and tightened his grip on his battleaxe.

No battle aura, no special techniques.

This was a pure contest of strength between two Warriors.

CLANG!

The bone blade and the battleaxe crashed together, sending a visible shockwave ripping through the water.

Ola could feel his opponent’s strength fading rapidly.

Each parry was weaker than the last, the vibrations traveling up his arms lessening with every blow.

But the octopus’s technique only grew more vicious, every strike aimed at the gaps in his armor.

Suddenly, Grash’s swinging tentacle was half a beat too slow.

This was his chance!

Ola seized the fleeting opportunity. He threw his body to one side, allowing the bone blade to scrape past the gap in his pauldron and dig into his shoulder.

At the same time, his battleaxe swung up in a vicious, whistling arc.

SQUISH.

The sound of the blade sinking into flesh didn’t travel far in the water.

The battleaxe had split Grash’s skull, nearly cleaving his head in two.

Grash’s body went rigid. His eight tentacles hung limp, like a puppet with its strings cut.

His slit-shaped pupils didn’t focus on Ola, who was right before him, but looked past him, into the distance.

A few of his Personal Guard, carrying the pouches now full of heads, were already struggling to swim upward. Their silhouettes soon vanished into the darkness beyond the reach of the giant net.

A satisfied smile spread across Grash’s face.

His body fell backward, crashing heavily onto the coral reef and kicking up a cloud of sand.

"Do not divert forces to stop them from taking the heads."

The order came from Velin, transmitted through the Hive Matrix.

"Stop the rest of them from committing suicide. I want live captives."

On the other side of the battlefield, Korsh was directing his last two Personal Guards.

"Hurry! Take Kata’s! He’s not going to make it!"

He blocked a stray spear with his own body, buying his comrades a few precious seconds.

Just then, he felt an unusual disturbance in the water behind him.

He whipped his head around.

From the shadows, several inconspicuous black specks shot toward him.

They were spears! Fired from cunning angles behind different coral clusters, they cut off all his routes of escape.

Korsh twisted his body violently, managing to avoid fatal hits to his head and heart.

Still, three custom-made spears found their mark.

There was no searing pain as he’d expected, only an intense, spreading numbness.

His tentacles went rigid, and his body began to convulse uncontrollably.

A large net woven from Sea Dragon Tendon fell from above, ensnaring him completely.

Barrett’s Scout squad emerged from the coral shadows. They hauled on the cables, dragging the paralyzed Korsh back as if he were a great fish caught in a trawler’s net.

Korsh struggled in vain within the net, unable to move so much as the tip of a single tentacle.

He watched his comrades disappear into the distance with the heads, then glanced toward the spot where Grash had fallen.

He closed his eyes.

With their General gone, the remaining Warriors of the Multi-Armed Race could no longer mount any resistance.

They dropped their weapons and huddled in corners, awaiting judgment.

The battle was over.

Wreckage and corpses drifted in the water, which was thick with the stench of blood and the distinct, cloyingly sweet smell of Clear Sea Potion.

Meanwhile, Sea Wolf and his sailors were cheerfully cleaning up the battlefield.

He walked over to Grash’s corpse and gave it a kick with his boot.

’Damn... He died like a man, I’ll give him that.’

He muttered to himself, but then his eyes lit up as he spotted something. He turned and shouted toward the Leviathan.

"Holy shit! Sir! You’ve gotta see this! Isn’t this... isn’t this the octopus captain who spotted us back at the trench? Heh, we hit the jackpot!"

The joy of victory was written on every face.

Velin descended from Leviathan One, stepping onto the ravaged battlefield.

He walked over to Korsh, who was still trapped in the net.

Besides Korsh, four other officers of the Multi-Armed Race had been captured alive.

Korsh opened his eyes and looked at the leader of this land-dwelling race.

He looked quite young, but his wine-red amber eyes held little of a victor’s joy.

Velin asked no questions. He simply glanced down at the collected weapons, then back at Korsh.

His gaze finally settled on the direction in which the fleeing warriors had vanished.

A Knight walked over to Korsh and affixed a Hive Terminal to the back of his head.

"I’m curious," Velin projected, his eyes fixed on Korsh. "Why risk death to carry away the heads of your dead? Do they hold some special significance for you?"

Korsh was stunned. He could somehow understand the message being sent directly into his mind!

A moment later, Velin’s words made him shudder.

Velin noticed this detail but didn’t press the matter. Instead, he turned to the Knight behind him and gave an order.

"Take them back to the water prison. Interrogate them separately."

Finally, his gaze fell back upon Korsh.

"You’re an intelligent one. You and I are going to have a chat. Let’s start with your ’Lord Unas.’"

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