Mistaken Match: Marrying the Enigmatic CEO
Chapter 2379; An Old Man Fighting
The group fell into an unsettling silence, the air thick with tension.
Blake’s joke hung in the space between them, unanswered.
Emmanuel finally broke the stillness, his hand clapping Blake’s shoulder firmly. His voice was calm yet carried a weight of resolve. “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged reinforcements. If I’m not back in Tocvale within a week, the Fierce Claw Army, 300,000 strong, will storm Ashdon Nation to save us, no matter the cost.”
The others nodded, understanding the gravity of his words.
Chanaea would risk it all, even if it meant gambling the future of the nation.
Protecting their elite warriors, their sacred force, was worth any sacrifice.
The group pressed forward, trekking along the island’s rugged mountain path, each step bringing them closer to Solaris Island.
Magnus, ever the strategist, didn’t miss a beat. He was already sketching detailed maps, his sharp eyes scanning the land around them. With each observation, he seemed to piece together the terrain as if it were a puzzle only, he could solve.
Emmanuel couldn’t help but admire the precision.
Magnus’ mind was a rare thing, a combination of sharp logic, sharp observation, and an encyclopedic knowledge of geography.
He was a master of his craft, unmatched by any other.
Far away, in Chanaea’s Hero’s Village…
The old godfather, supported by Susie, climbed the steep mountain path toward the ancient cemetery. The wind howled through the trees, but the air felt heavy with foreboding.
When they reached the grave, the sight stopped the Ancestor cold. A large pit had replaced Allessand’s resting place, the coffin nowhere to be found. His face darkened.
“That b*stard has started moving. I must leave Chanaea,” he muttered, his voice low but heavy with intent.
Susie’s eyes winded. The old godfather had not left the village in years, not since the time he had watched Emmanuel’s martial arts competition. What could have brought him to leave now?
“Old godfather, where are you going?”
The old man’s eyes were distant, clouded with the weight of decision long brewing. “Prepare a boat for me. I’m going south, out to sea. I must leave the country.”
Susie’s heart skipped a beat.
He was over a hundred-year-old, yet the old godfather still intended to leave the country?
She could only nod, the gravity of his request settling in her chest. She hurried off to find the help he needed, the scene of urgency growing with every step.
Once she was gone, the old godfather stood alone, his eyes fixed on the sky. A long life had brought him here, to this moment. If he didn’t use the Heart of the Sun to establish a miraculous base, his time would run out, just like all those before him.
Without it even his life would come to an end.
It seemed the other side test subjects from his past, aside from the Quillens’ girl, were to be brought to the experimental base. There were still pieces to be set in motion.
As the old godfather had suspected, something was happening in the Lenior family.
Laura had just returned from Zovince. The moment she entered Claudette’s room, she called out, her voice echoing against the walls. But no answer came. She called again louder this time.
“Sweetheart!” No response.
“Sweetheart!”
Still nothing.
“Sweetheart! The window caught her eye, open, shattered from the outside. Her calm composed exterior cracked like glass. Panic surged through her chest, and the quiet of the room grew unbearable oppressive. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
The room felt unnerving still. A note sat innocently on the table; it’s presence almost mocking.
“Let me borrow Claudette for a bit, Aunt Laura. She’s really needed. I’ll return her if she’s still in one piece afterward.”
Laura’s fingers trembled as she read the words. Her face twisted with fury. She crumpled the note into a tight ball, her knuckles white from the force. The sharp sound of paper crushing echoed in the silence.
Before she could do anything else, a servant burst through the door, breathless. “Madam, there’s a woman outside. She says she’s from Hero’s Village and knows where to find Ms. Claudette.”
Laura’s eyes widened, a sharp chill running through her. “What?” Her voice cracked with disbelief.
Claudette had only just disappeared, how could someone already know where she was?
Who was this woman? Was she some kind of divine being able to track them so quickly?
On the rugged terrain of Graypine Island, Emmanuel led his elite force of 10,000 deep into the island’s heart.
“Stop!”
Magnus despite being a mere one-star Chief of Staff, had earned Emmanuel’s trust on this special mission. The strategist’s role was his, and he wielded it with precision.
“What’s going on?”
Emmanuel’s brow furrowed.
The troops had landed by boat, carrying only light weapons and rations. They had nothing else, no heavy artillery, no backup.
Everything else would be by foot. Their pace quickening when the need arose.
Nathan, a young soldier, followed close to Emmanuel. This was his first battle with the Commander, and he was intent on learning.
“Why are we stopping?” Nathan asked, his voice tinged with impatience. “Aren’t we supposed to get to Solaris Island first, destroy the Eagle Nation base, and leave before their reinforcements arrive? Wasting time like this isn’t helping.”
“There’s an ambush ahead.”
Magnus’ voice cut through the air, cool and measured as ever, his finger pointing toward the horizon.
Blake squinted, scanning the distance. “Ambush? I don’t see anyone.”
He wasn’t alone in his confusion. Yorick looked too, no sign of an enemy.
“There’s a stone fortress about a mile ahead of us.” Magnus said, his voice unwavering.
“It’s old, worn, but it’s clearly been there for a long time. How could it be abandoned?”
Emmanuel’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t right. The situation screamed of a trap. Magnus, every calm, pressed on.
“Look at the layout. The buildings spread out on entire side, but only one narrow path runs through. If you were the enemy, how would you fight here?”
Sage and Eve exchanged a look, clearly annoyed. They had years more battlefield experience than Magnus.
Was he testing them?
Emmanuel, however, wasn’t bothered. His response was quick and sure. “Knowing that 300,000 reinforcements are on the way, I’d defend the pass, hold the narrow entrance. Once our backup arrives, we could break out and tap the enemy with a double envelopment. Minimal losses. Maximum effectiveness.”
“Commander,” Magnus said, a note of respect in his voice. “That’s the safest strategy. It’s brilliant.”
But then he shook his head, a shadow crossing his face. “But our enemies wont’ do that.”
Emmanuel raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? And what do you think they’ll do?”
Had Magnus figured out the true nature of their opponents?
“You trust me? Then follow my plan.”
Magnus’ voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against Emmanuel’s ear as he leaned in, his words sharp with intent.
The Saints, as always elusive, their presence barely noticeable. Yet their power was undeniable, and they heard every word of Magnus’ strategy.
Blake, standing near, caught the conversation in full. His brow furrowed, his curiosity piqued.
Nathan, unable to contain himself, broke the silence. “Why don’t you just tell everyone the plan?”
Magnus simply smiled, his lips curling with quiet amusement. His silence spoke volumes after his brief explanation.
Emmanuel, ever the calm strategist, processed the information. His expression shifted, the realization hitting him like a wave. This was a familiar adversary, one he hadn’t expected to face so soon. The surprise was palpable.
After a beat, Emmanuel nodded decisively. “Alright, Magnus. You’ve got one chance. I’ll follow your plan. Sage, you’re in charge…”
“Understood!” Sage’s voice was sharp, unwavering.
Though there were reservations, Sage recognized the value of Magnus’ risky idea. It had merit.
“Eve,” Emmanuel continued, his voice commanding, “one you handle this deployment, pull back. Head to the coast of Chanaea. Logistics will be your focus from now on.”
Eve’s expression betrayed her disappointment, but she nodded in agreement. She understood her role, even if it wasn’t the one she desired.
With his orders given, Emmanuel led the charge, his movements swift, his men following with disciplined precision.
But the ambush that they had braced for never came.
The gate loomed ahead, and they entered. The air was eerily still, almost too quiet. They passed through without incident, until the ground shook beneath their feet.
The explosion erupted from whin the walls, a deafening roar that shattered the stillness.
“Quick! Fall back!”
Emmanuel’s voice cut through the chaos, laced with urgency.
His men hesitated, confusion and fear in their eyes. The trap had been set, yet the enemy had let them through. The gates had closed behind them, cutting off their retreat.
Did they not fear Emmanuel’s forces might push further into Solaris Islan, using the moment to their advantage?
A voice, cold and mocking, echoed from above.
“Too late to retreat now.”
Gautier stood atop the wall; a looming figure bathed in the flickering light of the explosion. Behind him, several shadowy figures stood like statues, their presence radiating lethal intent.
These were no mere soldiers. They were something else entirely.
“Emmanuel,” Gautier’s voice rang out, smooth with smug amusement. “We meet again.”
Draped in the ancient robes of Chanaea, Gautier held a feathered fan with a flourish, a living embodiment of strategy, like the reincarnation of legendry tactician.
Emmanuel’s gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. Though his mind raced, his body gave no hint of surprise. He had seen this man before. He knew what was to come.