Genius Mage in a Cultivation World - Chapter 230: News from the camp

Layn waited for only five minutes before ordering a complete stop of his group. With the monsters rushing after the Slavians, even five minutes of forced jog was enough for his group to distance themselves from the eyes of anyone who could observe them.

After all, they never truly entered the beast’s territory. They only neared its border and used Layn’s bait to lure them towards them!

“How many did we lose?” the archmage asked, feeling a gulp raising up in his throat.

“Sir, the count says there are four casualties. Two mercenaries, one Generian and one of your initial followers,” Antion reported as soon as he managed to reach Layn’s side.

‘What the hell is this feeling?’ the archmage thought, lowering his eyes on his hands. ‘A grief? Even after everything I went through?’ he thought, surprised by his own feelings.

This wasn’t the first war that Layn participated in. As one of the greatest if not the greatest mage of his time, he took part in several conflicts, more than a dozen of battles, and many more skirmishes that he could count.

He watched his brothers in arms die right on his arms, get killed in ambushes, took their last stand against an overwhelming force, too far away for Layn to come to their rescue.

He was more than acquittanced with the sight and notion of death.

Yet, for the first time since he was a cadet at the military, serving his obligatory three years in the army, he actually felt grief due to the losses.

‘What did change?’ Layn asked himself as the entire group slowly ground down to a complete halt. ‘Did I change?’ he thought, raising his eyes from his hands to the sky. ‘Or is it because there are far fewer people in my community, allowing me to know each of them personally?’

“What were their names?” Layn asked, raising his eyes at his trusted subordinate.

“Peter, Ielo, Jeah, and Vic,” Antion dutifully replied before averting his eyes.

“How many injured?” Layn asked, unwilling to let go of this topic before learning the full scope of their damage.

“Eleven, but nothing serious. Those who received grave injuries simply threw themselves in the battle, opting to die with a weapon in their hand rather than succumb to their wounds,” Antion replied, lowering his head. “Or so I heard from others,” he added a moment later.

“I see,” Layn muttered, closing his eyes and taking a few breaths to calm himself down.

‘We had ninety-eight people when we departed,’ he thought. ‘Only four of them died. Realistically speaking, this is far better than I thought it would be,’ he thought, slowly prying his eyes open.

‘Now it’s not the time to grief,’ he decided, raising his head high and throwing his hand in the air.

“Today, we pushed both of our great enemies to fight against each other!” Layn shouted.

“The four braves who laid down their lives for the cause allowed us to save three hundred of those that we left behind at the camp!” Markus joined, shouting to rally the people up.

Not a single one of them was foreign to the concept of death and demise. They all saw their friends, mentors, enemies, and total strangers die while on the mission or simply due to failures in cultivation or natural causes.

This wasn’t the world that Layn grew up in when only those who picked to go to the battlefield would learn about this shitty part of human life. This was the world where death was as natural as drinking, fucking, and shitting.

It was just another part of the same.

“Today, we won the advantage that we oh so desperately needed!” Layn shouted, finally pushing the rest of the crowd into loud cheers.

Out of everyone in the group, Layn could swear that he himself had the lowest morale. Yet the joyous shouts of everyone mixing in an almost unpleasant noise managed to lift his spirits up.

“And with that said, let us return back home to celebrate!” Layn shouted, waving his hand only to point it right back at where they would go now.

“LAYN!” a shout suddenly managed to make it out through the cheers, alerting the archmage’s attention. “LAYN! URGENT MESSAGE! LET ME THROUGH!”

‘What happened?’ the archmage felt confusion take over his mind. ‘What kind of urgent message? What could’ve happened?’ he thought, pushing his people aside as he headed towards the source of the voice.

Whether it was a trap or not, it was better if Layn were the one to receive it.

“Layn!” the man shouted when he finally noticed the archmage’s face.

‘I can… recognize him,’ Layn thought, staring at the messenger’s face before taking a look at the man’s entire body.

His legs were all covered in blood and scab, proving that he cared not for all the small injuries as he ran towards them.

‘He must’ve been in a real hurry,’ Layn thought, accelerating his steps.

“Urgent news!” the man shouted as he fell right into Layn’s arms. Yet, instead of speaking what he had on mind, the man had to take quite a long while to stabilize his breath, showing just how far he pushed himself.

“Take your time, brother,” Layn muttered, allowing the man to rest in his arms. ‘If he went that far…’ he thought, raising his eyes in the direction where the messenger came from.

And it was the same direction that he pointed at just a moment earlier.

The direction where their camp was located.

“An invasion is coming,” the man finally managed to utter his message. “Right now, they are only one day away from the camp,” he continued to give his reports between short breaks to stabilize his breath. “We can’t hold them; there is too many.”

‘Who is attacking now?’ Layn thought, his eyes opening wide. For a moment, his mind scurried for an answer, unable to figure out the solution.

They were already dealing with Slavians, monsters, and now what?

‘Did some kind of God descend to this world to make things even harder on me?’ Layn thought, feeling how desperation was quickly taking over his soul.

“It’s most likely that Star Emperor’s army,” Markus approached the two of them from the side with a grim look on his face. “We killed that bastard back in the warcamp, so they now came to get revenge,” he said, tightening his hands into fists.

“Star Emperor?” Layn asked, unwilling to believe what he had just heard. “Wait, you killed him?” he asked, shaking his head as if to cast aside all the doubts in his head for a moment.

After all, it was Markus putting forth that claim. And this wasn’t someone who Layn would ever dare to doubt.

“I saw Yelna cut him down with my own eyes,” Markus said, nodding his head. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with,” he added, looking over in the camp’s direction with anxiety written all over his head.

“We are going back,” Layn made his decision on the spot, his face darkening with fury.

So far, he opted to take the relatively diplomatic approach to all the problems.

Slavians refused to cooperate? He would pit them against monsters.

Monsters wanted to invade his domain? He would sap their strength.

But now, another group dared to attack the only place and the only group of people that he cared about in this world.

For this third time, Layn wasn’t going to let them off easily.

“Boss,” the messenger hung himself on Layn’s shoulders, still panting heavily to recover his breath. “When I said there are too many… I meant that there are too many even for you!”