The Golem Mage

Chapter 1002: Sentimental Speech.

It worked like this: any mage unlucky enough to get caught by the runes had only one option, kill the summoned beast if they wanted to survive, but for that group of Tier 6 mages, facing those ghouls was practically a dead end.

The creatures fought like starving fiends, aggressive, relentless, and always moving as if they could never be satisfied, and there was another problem: beasts raised in the Beast Forest were naturally stronger than those of the main world.

So even if the ghouls displayed Tier 6 aura, their actual battle prowess was far beyond what most Tier 6 mages could handle.

_ _ _

Outside the formation, a group of mages who had entered earlier rushed back to report to the City Lord, they claimed they’d seen the Tier 6 squad pursue Zack, the very mage they’d been hunting so obsessively.

But an hour passed... and the City Lord still hadn’t seen any of those Tier 6 mages return. and none of the lower-ranked forces came back either, his blood ran cold as only one conclusion remained.

The Tier 6 squad, along with the lower ranks, that some Tier 4 and Tier 5 mages leading them had been wiped out, that was the only reasonable conclusion he came to as even communication with them had gone completely dead.

“Prepare yourselves,” the City Lord said, voice hardening.

“Tomorrow, we will enter the array ourselves. It’s already in a weakened state, and most of the traps should’ve been triggered by now, the mages have pushed close to the inner region.”

He sneered, confidence swelling.

“And we don’t need to worry too much, as the Gordons can’t keep hiding now that we’re close to their doorstep.”

“If my prediction is right, they’ll come out to greet us tomorrow.” he continued speaking as his smile widened, mana surging through his words like a command.

“I can’t help feeling happy... because I know the Gordons Clan’s destruction is close.”

The declaration sent a wave of excitement through the mages who’d been grinding against the array day after day, their morale lifting instantly.

And that was because many of them were already exhausted from being sent into the array again and again, they’d started to suspect the higher-ups were simply using them to clear a path toward the inner regions of the Gordons’ territory.

So the moment they heard the higher-ups would lead the next push themselves, relief washed over them, they knew war meant deaths, many deaths.

But no one liked dying the way many had in these few days. To them, it was meaningless: a wasted end that left fear behind, because it forced you to think about everything you’d be abandoning.

Day after day, the steady count of casualties had kept everyone’s emotions on edge, gnawing at their nerves, but now, with the higher-ups taking the front, it felt like the real battle, the blood-curdling clash they’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

_ _ _

While the City Lord was crafting plans of his own, the Gordons Patriarch was doing the same, the two captured Tier 6 mages had spilled just enough information about the attacking army’s power structure to confirm what the clan feared.

“There’s no more time for us, tomorrow, we hold the inner-region gates. If everything I’ve heard today is true, they’ll breach into our clan tomorrow, and we must be ready to welcome them with our weapons drawn.” the Patriarch said.

The Third Elder frowned, then looked toward his brother.

“Big bro... can you really take them on? Fighting all three at once, in a cramped space where you can’t retreat, and where you also have to worry about the clansmen around you...It almost feels like all of this was designed to restrain you.” He exhaled sharply.

The room fell into a heavy silence, and more than one person sighed.

“I’ll take one of the Tier 8s,” the Fourth Elder said grimly.

“He’ll have to hold off the other two. If he can keep them busy long enough, I’ll finish my fight and reinforce him.” His gaze hardened.

“And let’s pray it’s only three Tier 8 mages, like the prisoners claimed, because If there are more... then we’re in far deeper trouble.”

Around him, heads nodded slowly, as no one dared to pretend otherwise.

“No problem, before tomorrow, I want to thank every one of you for your unwavering support, no matter what happens, I want you all to know this, you’ve served me better as my elders than I ever served you as your Patriarch, and I’m eternally grateful.

“My brothers, my godsons, my family... you helped the clan reach this stage. Even Father didn’t believe we could recover this far.” George Gordons spoke as his voice thickened with emotion as he raised his wine goblet.

The gesture pulled at everyone’s hearts. No one wanted to say it out loud, but they all understood: if tomorrow went wrong, if even one of their plans failed, they could end up losing many of the people gathered here.

And that wouldn’t just mean deaths; it would set the clan’s power back by years, possibly pushing the Gordons toward collapse even if they weren’t completely wiped out, still, none of them wanted to dwell on it.

For now, they chose to savor the moment.

“You’re talking like a senseless old man, no one speaks like that before a war. We’ll all be fine.” the Grand Elder scolded from nearby.

George scratched the back of his head and chuckled awkwardly.

“Yeah... sorry about that.”