The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 43, 44
## Chapter 43
Talia looked, completely stunned, at the dark mass revealing itself under the dying light of the sun.
The creature’s enormous body, covered in scales, coiled upon itself like a volcano about to erupt, and then lunged upward. At its highest point, a massive reptile head could be glimpsed, with glowing red eyes staring down at them from above.
Talia’s legs failed her and she fell to the ground.
When the monster spread its wings—black membranes that flashed in the twilight—the entire world seemed to be swallowed by darkness.
Varkas unsheathed his sword with a sharp clink and shouted with an authoritative voice:
“Prepare the subjugation gear… now!”
The instant his command echoed, the knights emerged from among the panicked soldiers scattering in all directions.
They surrounded the creature, driving steel stakes into the ground and fastening thick chains to them. Then, dozens of steel harpoons were launched like arrows toward the monster’s massive body.
Talia covered her ears with her hands as the beast reared up, letting out a thunderous roar that shook the air.
The earth trembled every time its enormous frame thrashed against the chains, and several stakes were torn from the ground, flying through the air.
“Everyone, fall back!”
Someone’s voice boomed—and at that moment, the creature broke free from its bonds, sweeping one of its colossal wings with devastating force.
Talia screamed.
Several tents were shredded and sent flying, and half a dozen servants who hadn’t reacted in time were thrown into the air like pieces of paper.
One of the bodies landed near her, twisted at an unnatural angle.
It felt like a nightmare come true.
“Bring more gear!”
Varkas’s gruff shout caused her fading consciousness to snap back into focus.
Talia forced her trembling legs to support her and stood up, watching in horror as Varkas charged like lightning toward the enraged creature.
The beast’s body easily measured more than thirty crevets in height—more than nine meters—and he was running straight toward its open jaws.
“Varkas!”
His name escaped her lips as a scream just as the monster’s wing came down hard toward him like a whip.
Talia watched with frozen terror as the massive black wing enveloped him… and her world went completely dark.
But in the next instant, the pale blade in Varkas’s hand slashed through the thick leather membrane as if it were paper.
With a swift movement, he severed the wing and the fibrous muscle connecting it to the body.
The monster let out a deafening roar and staggered violently, losing its balance.
Without hesitation, Varkas pulled a chained sickle from his belt and threw the hook-shaped blade straight into the beast’s mouth, right between the rows of sharp, jagged teeth.
Then, with a fluid and powerful motion, he leapt to the side and secured the chain to a stake driven into the ground, pulling with immense strength.
The creature, its lower jaw caught by the chained sickle, was dragged downward like a fish hooked on a line and collapsed helplessly.
Talia gasped; that such brute strength could come from a man with a build as slender and elegant as a dancer’s seemed impossible.
Still holding the taut chain with both hands, Varkas shouted to his subordinates:
“Finish it!”
A storm of harpoons rained down upon the beast’s body.
The scaly monster writhed in agony, its massive form convulsing, but it was defenseless against the relentless onslaught.
In a few moments, it looked like a grotesque black hedgehog—and finally, it let out a long, raspy hiss before collapsing completely.
Only then did Talia release the breath she had been holding.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?”
A royal guard ran toward her, breathless and pale with worry. He must have been searching for her when the attack began; he still had his sword drawn.
After quickly sheathing the blade, he reached out his hand to help her up, but Talia brushed his hand away abruptly. She staggered toward Varkas, who was gathering the chains around the fallen monster.
Varkas coiled the slack chain around one arm, looking at her briefly: a cold, assessing gaze, as if checking the condition of some object he had been tasked with handling.
For once, there was no anger in his eyes, and that alone made Talia’s voice tremble as she asked:
“Are… are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?”
Looking closer, she saw dark smudges on the back of his neck: dried, reddish-black blood.
Reaching out, she gently brushed the spot with her fingers. Fortunately, it was not his blood. Relief escaped her in a silent sigh.
Then, suddenly, she felt his sharp gaze upon her.
Talia froze and looked up; Varkas was staring at her with an indecipherable expression.
Her heart skipped a beat. Sweat broke out along her hairline.
Perhaps he thought it was absurd: that the woman who used to slap him and throw things at him every day was now pretending to care.
Dazed, she murmured through her teeth:
“I-I mean… I’ve known you for almost ten years. If something happened to you right in front of me, I’d probably have nightmares. And I really don’t want to have nightmares because of you.”
“…I assure you, Your Highness, that I will not appear in your dreams. That should be a relief.”
It was his usual insolent tone; however, for some reason, she felt strangely comforted by it.
Her shoulders relaxed, and her tense muscles ached from the built-up pressure.
Varkas looked at her in silence, as if about to say something—but before he could, another scream echoed from somewhere in the distance.
Talia turned her head sharply and gasped.
The sky was filled with black silhouettes: countless monsters covered the heavens.
A nearby guard murmured, his face drained of color:
“Wyverns…? At this time of year… why are there so many?”
Varkas snapped coldly, regaining his composure:
“You can ask yourselves that later. Prepare the subjugation gear… now! Your Highness, this way!”
He grabbed Talia by the wrist and strode forward through the chaotic camp.
She struggled to keep pace, her feet pounding the dirt, as the air grew thick with the stench of blood and fire.
A madhouse.
The chaos she had so desperately desired had finally arrived.
And yet—she felt no excitement, no satisfaction.
Only the cold grip of fear running through her veins.
“Sir Shearkan! We have established a defensive barrier over there!”
Someone shouted amidst the tumult as the wyverns tore through tents and wagons like toys.
Varkas turned immediately toward the voice.
“Do not leave this area… no matter what.”
He led the semi-conscious Talia to the center of the camp, where dozens of wagons had been lined up to form a defensive wall.
“There are magic barriers installed on the wagons. You will be safe here.”
“What about you?” she demanded.
Ignoring her, Varkas turned to leave.
Talia grabbed his arm in a panic.
“Are you crazy?! Where are you going?!”
“The barrier magic won’t last long. We have to eliminate the monsters before it fades.”
He firmly brushed her hand away and ran back toward the battlefield.
Talia watched him walk away, numb—then ran forward, screaming with all her might:
“No! Don’t go! Varkas! Varkas!”
—
## Chapter 44
Pushing her way through panicked soldiers fumbling for their weapons, Talia glimpsed several crushed corpses scattered among the fallen tents.
Her stomach twisted painfully with fear. But the thought that Varkas could end up like that made it impossible for her to stop moving.
Before she knew it, she was already rushing through the chaotic camp, riddled with debris and destroyed equipment, desperately trying to catch up with the man who had gone so far ahead.
Then—boom!
A heavy sound echoed through the air.
When Talia turned toward the source of the noise, her face went deathly pale.
Not far from there, a wyvern had landed and was devouring a soldier whole.
Blood gushed between its upper and lower jaws, drenching its dark snout until it gleamed wet and red.
The scene was so unreal that, at first, Talia couldn’t even feel fear. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she stumbled backward.
Then, through the crowd of soldiers advancing with spears, she spotted Varkas.
“Varkas! Varkas!”
Like a child calling for her parents in the middle of a market, she ran toward him at full speed.
Varkas, who had been shouting orders to his knights, turned sharply upon hearing her voice.
The moment their eyes met, his eyes widened slightly, only to narrow again. He seemed furious that she had disobeyed his order and run out there.
His gaze turned as sharp as a blade, sending a chill down her spine—but Talia did not stop.
The only thing she could think about was that she had to reach him, that they had to go to a safe place together.
*Don’t fight. Let your men handle it. You’re supposed to stay with me.*
Half-coordinated words stumbled through her ragged breathing.
Even though it was impossible for him to hear her amidst the chaos, Varkas suddenly began to stride toward her, as if he had somehow understood her.
Talia reached her hand out to him.
At that exact instant, a faint cry pierced the air.
“Varkas!”
He turned his head immediately.
Following his gaze, Talia’s eyes widened as she saw Ayla standing alone in the middle of the chaos.
Separated from her guards, she was stumbling helplessly—while a massive black shadow loomed over her.
Varkas did not hesitate. He lunged.
Talia could only watch in shock as he ran away from her. Her mouth fell open, and a pitiful plea escaped her throat, which was closing up with anguish.
*Don’t go.*
*Don’t go to her.*
The words, burning like lava, scorched her throat as they burst outward.
He reached Ayla’s side in an instant, pulling her into his arms and rolling them both along the ground just as the monster’s talons struck the place where she had been standing.
The beast, frustrated at losing its prey, tore up the earth with its black claws and unleashed a deafening roar.
Varkas drew his sword and pushed Ayla behind him, clearly intending to protect her from the enraged creature.
But the monster, apparently uninterested in the prey that had escaped it, turned its massive head, sniffing the air—and locked its eyes on Talia.
She froze, staring straight into those burning red pupils. The beast’s gaze dilated with excitement and, the next moment, its massive body lunged toward her like a serpent gliding over water.
It moved so fast she couldn’t even scream.
The next thing she knew, her body was trapped within the creature’s hook-like claws and lifted into the air.
As the ground receded beneath her feet, Talia’s eyes moved with desperation.
The soldiers below looked tiny, flailing like ants.
Panic flooded her chest and she began to thrash with all her might, kicking and struggling.
But the pressure around her ribs only intensified, as if her chest were being crushed.
At any moment, she thought, those claws would pierce her skin and tear her to pieces.
Looking toward the monster holding her, Talia screamed with what little breath she had left.
“Help! Someone, please… help me…!”
But even to her own ears, the words sounded pitifully weak.
She gasped, trying to take in more air, and opened her mouth again.
Just then, a flash of light blazed within the bluish-tinted darkness, followed by a gust of scorching wind that brushed her face.
Talia screamed as the creature holding her let out a hideous shriek and began to thrash violently.
The crushing pressure around her waist became unbearable, and for an instant, her vision went blank.
Her body went limp; strength deserted her limbs.
Then, suddenly, she found herself falling—her body tossed high into the air, only to plummet toward the ground.
Seconds later, a heavy impact shook her entire body.
Everything went dark.
She couldn’t tell if she was awake or unconscious. Maybe she was dead.
But no—the pain arrived all at once, fierce and undeniable, tearing through her nerves.
Talia gasped for air like an animal about to be slaughtered.
It hurt—so much that she couldn’t even distinguish where the pain was coming from.
“Ugh… hhhk…”
By instinct, she tried to crawl, to free herself from whatever was crushing her.
But the agony became too intense, and she buried her face in the cold dirt.
Then, through the haze, a bitter, smoky smell reached her nose.
She forced herself to raise her head.
Her eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, caught the motionless body of the wyvern lying nearby.
Still trembling, she let out a choked sob of relief.
It was dead.
Its wings, half-burned and shriveled, looked like charred paper, and faint embers glowed along its exposed scales and hind leg.
Talia stared at the grotesque scene before placing her palms on the ground and struggling to sit up.
That was when she saw it—her leg was trapped under a pile of rocks and dirt.
She must have rolled down a slope when she fell.
*I have to get out…*
She twisted her body, desperately trying to free herself from the debris, but the pain was too much.
Her body collapsed again.
Her leg was crushed beneath the fallen stones, and her chest, shoulders, and arms throbbed as if they were broken into pieces.
*Are all my bones broken?*
It wouldn’t be a surprise.
In fact, she had no idea how she was still alive.
Or maybe… she wasn’t. Maybe she was dying.
She looked around with frightened eyes.
The darkness had swallowed everything.
Is this what it feels like to be buried alive?
Every breath of air was harder than the last.
She wished she could lose consciousness, but her lucidity only became clearer, painfully clear.
Unable to bear the agony any longer, she weakly clawed at the dirt with her broken nails, while tears welled up endlessly down her cheeks.
“It hurts… it hurts so much… Varkas…”
She didn’t even know why she was uttering his name.
But the image of him running—turning his back on her to go to Ayla—flashed through her mind.
She could never be someone important to him.
For Varkas, the only ones worth protecting, no matter what, were Ayla and Gareth.
Hot tears burned her face.
“No… he will come for me,” she whispered to herself.
*He has to.*
*He is a man of duty. He wouldn’t just leave me here like this, not even my corpse.*
She clung to that fragile thought, peering into the deep darkness.
Before long, even the faint embers flickering on the monster’s scales died out, leaving her in absolute pitch blackness.
No one came.
No footsteps, no voice.
Her throat, dry and cracked, forced out a hoarse whisper.
“It’s okay… it’s okay… he’ll come soon… soon…”
But her voice broke into sobs.
Talia bit her lip hard and pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. She didn’t want to cry.
To cry would mean admitting it—that no one is coming for me.
Swallowing the painful mixture of despair and grief, she suppressed the sobs in her chest.
And then, over and over, she whispered to herself:
*If I wait just a little longer, Varkas will come.*
*He will save me—just like the time he pulled me out of the mud.*
*He will. He must…*
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