The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 70

“A price?” Hassan asked, sighing. “It won’t be cheap, will it?” 

Rehan smiled. “Nah, it won’t.” Rehan laid out the terms. Ten fragments and five Spectres. On all accounts, it was an enormous amount—depending on the grade of them, that was. For the Fragments, at least 5 of them had to be of Apprentice quality, and two had to be of Adept.

Hassan grit his teeth, and so did the others. Hassan said, “That’s not something I can decide on my own. Such an ask is—”

“Impossible?” Owen asked.

Hassan shook his head. “No, not impossible. But our kingdom is run by democracy. We will have to put it through a vote.”

“Democracy?” Owen said. 

“Well, when it comes to rewards, it is. Since we all fight for them, it’s only natural we decide what happens to them. Usually, they go to those who have contributed the most. Fought the most. But depending on what it is, it could go to anyone that can utilise it the most. Of course, we need to vote on that.”

“Sounds far,” Owen said. Although, he didn’t agree with that. They were in the middle of a war. How did they have time to think about how to distribute rewards?

“Let’s head on out,” Owen said. “I don’t want to wait here any longer than you do.” They left the cave, and Owen sent Pyris a nod. She nodded back, then started her return back to the kingdom.

“Where is she going?” Hassan asked, cursious.

“The Lord has use for her,” Owen said, shaking his head. “Her talent is… frightening.”

Scenes of previous fights appeared to flash through Hassan’s eyes as he nodded. “I was actually hoping to have her fight with us.”

Owen grinned. “Wishful thinking. You’re stuck with us.”

“That’s enough,” Hassan said as they started walking across the sands. “Actually, I’m happy we ran into you.”

“Really?” 

Hassan nodded. “Your skill to see the future? I believe that’s more useful than any fighting ability could prove to be. After all, we have powerful warriors of our own. What we need is something to truly turn the tide against those slithery bastards. Do you know about the serpents?”

Owen tried his best to not kick up the sand as he walked. Every step he took was measured and light, or at least, that’s what he was trying to apply. Looking up from his feet, he said, “a little. They have a habit of making an oasis their home. Somewhere nearby, there should be a water source.”

Hassan’s eyes lit up as he stroked his chin. “We haven’t found that. Must be over the mountains.”

“Have you scouted them yet?” 

“No, it’s impossible. There’s a troll-like monster made of rock that guards the passage.”

“And the troll doesn’t stop the serpents?”

“No, it just lets them through.”

“Strange.” 

“Do you know anything?” Hassan asked, looking at him in need of an answer. Owen didn’t have it.

“I don’t,” he replied truthfully. “I told you before. My Skill has limitations. Sometimes it tells me about the future, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Sounds like a shitty ability,” Jonah said from behind.

“You’re not wrong,” he replied. 

Honestly, Owen had a lot of knowledge about what would happen in the future, hidden events, the weakness of almighty monsters. But he was in an area where he couldn’t utilise it at all. He was in an area away from the main character, away from everything he knew about the story. 

He was hoping that this Outpost would trigger some memories of the book. Maybe there were some descriptions he could make use of. At least then he could gain an idea of where was. Well, more of an idea than he already had. Owen believed he was in the east, but he could be wrong. Making moves based on that vague recollection would be dangerous for not just him, but his people. He had to be certain of where he was.

They had travelled for a total of seven days. According to Hassan, there was one day left to make it to the Outpost. A lot had happened during that time. They had killed scarlet crabs, slain sand hounds, and slaughtered an armoured worm, while finding caves to keep away from the monstrous wave at night.

Owen didn’t get to plunder any of it, or store it. He didn’t want to reveal that ability to any of the others. Even if it was just the storage part of the skill. Owen was true to his words; he didn’t trust any of them, and he’d keep it that way. 

Because of that, he didn’t get the chance to plunder anything. The only recompense was a measly Level. Because he shared the experience with everyone else, he didn’t even get to a second Level. That was a grand total of two points…

Hassan on the other hand, with the increased efficacy of Owen and his troops, had Levelled up twice. With his Talent of 5-Stars, which was one above the most common Talent grade, earned ten Stats.

Despite that, Owen couldn’t complain. He knew that right now, with his current Stats, he was considered a 10-Star, or above. Honestly, he wasn’t good at maths, so it was just a guess. 

During their travels, Owen was constantly on a knife's edge. Not because of the monsters hunting them out on the sands, but what was happening back at home. He hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, or directly give orders. The only thing that settled his nerves was the fact that in that whole week, not one person had died. It meant their new wall was working, making defence easier. He just hoped it would stay that way.

It was strange. The further he travelled away from his kingdom, the more… empty he felt. Images and scenes of Bimpnottin, Coo, Cindrelle, Bubbles, and all the others would play in his mind, causing a smile to curl onto his lips. 

It had barely been a month, and he already had a new home. 

On the eighth day, they arrived. Cresting a dune, the entirety of the Outpost made itself known. Owen sucked in a breath of hot air.

Before him, a massive castle loomed like a sentinel over the barren desert. Its stone walls, weathered and cracked, had endured countless sieges, and yet it stood tall, defiant. The imposing portcullis at the centre was down, its thick iron bars forged to withstand anything the desert could throw at it, be it man or beast. Above the gate, battlements stretched along the perimeter, lined with soldiers gripping crude but effective clubs. They stared down the path with wary eyes, scanning the horizon for signs of movement.

To the left, the castle clung to the edge of an enormous mountain range, its jagged peaks cutting into the sky like the teeth of some ancient predator. The cliffs towered so high that they cast long shadows over the Outpost, offering relief from the relentless heat. The mountain itself looked impenetrable, save for a single path that sliced through it—a narrow, winding gorge that seemed like a knife had cleaved the rock in two. It was the only direct route through, and today, that route was under siege.

From the heights of the mountain path came the serpents—humanoid in form but reptilian in every other aspect. They moved with a sickening grace, their scaly bodies sliding and twisting as they advanced, eyes gleaming with cold malice. Arrows rained down from the battlements above, but for every serpent that fell, two more took its place. The creatures’ hissed commands echoed off the cliffs, their language harsh and foreign, their purpose clear: to break through the Outpost's defences.

Around the Outpost, the air shimmered with the heat, but even that was preferable to the approaching battle. Owen could feel it—the tension building, the weight of what was to come. The Outpost, for all its strength, was on the verge of being swallowed whole by the storm.

Hassen grit his teeth. “We need to hurry!”

Owen and the others rushed with him, approaching the metal gates of the castle.

“It’s Hassan, open up!”

Owen heard voices from high above as the gates opened up, the grinding of gears gritty and loud. Hassan brought them immediately to the left side, where the siege was at its fiercest.

“Gorath!” Owen shouted, his command silent.

Gorath grunted. Mana swirled around the air, tousling his long, braided hair. In a violent, crackling surge, tendrils of lightning blasted onto the battlefield, lashing the attacking serpents. Two of them struck by the strongest tendrils fell to the floor, dead. The last one was too stunned to react to an incoming arrow to the throat.

Atop the battlements, Owen’s heart pounded in his chest. The acrid stench of smoke and blood filled the air, clinging to his senses like a suffocating shroud. Around him, the battlefield was alive with chaos—the sharp whistle of arrows slicing through the air, the crackle and hum of spells erupting from both sides. And beneath it all, the deafening cries of the dying echoed like a haunting chorus.

This was war. It wasn’t glorious or noble. It was raw, brutal, and unrelenting. But he wasn’t knew to the feeling. Owen readied himself.