Primitive Man

Chapter 78: Bloody trap

In a dark and foreboding cave deep in the heart of the mountains, tension hung in the air like a heavy fog. Six of Moga's henchmen, grim-faced and armed to the teeth with weapons that Baktou and his team left in the mines, crept into the main cave.

They had come to take the women and children to the treacherous mines, heedless of the tears and pleas that filled the caves.

Moga's men entered cautiously, their eyes flickering in the inky darkness. But to their surprise, the main cave was eerily empty. "What's going on? Our men should be guarding the entrance?

Are they slacking?" one of them muttered, casting a suspicious glance at his companions.

Undeterred, they pressed deeper into the cave, their footsteps echoing ominously. As they ventured further, the scent of iron and decay began to assault their senses. A dreadful feeling gnawed at the pit of their stomachs.

And then, their worst fears were realized. The cave walls bore witness to a gruesome sight—bodies of their comrades, lifeless and hanging from crude wooden poles. The women who had once favoured them were now nothing but lifeless husks, their faces contorted in terror.

Horror washed over Moga's men, and they staggered back in shock. "What madness is this? We are too late! Let's go and report this to Moga." one of them gasped, unable to look away from the grisly scene.

But their terror was far from over. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, her lithe form moving with deadly grace. Ayra, with a spear gleaming like a vengeful spirit, blocked their only escape route.

"You thought you could take our people without consequence and harm Baktou," she hissed, her eyes flashing with righteous fury.

In their desperation, Moga's men tried to flee, but it was too late. Ayra's spear found its mark with deadly precision, and they fell to the cold, unforgiving ground, one by one, gasping for their final breaths.

Ayra moved like a whirlwind of vengeance, her spear an extension of her very soul. As Moga's men scrambled to escape, their faces contorted with fear, she advanced on them with a relentless determination.

"It's just one woman! Kill her and we can escape," One of the men from Moga's side shouted.

The first assailant, a burly man with a wicked grin, lunged towards Ayra with a crude bone dagger raised high. With a lightning-fast motion, she sidestepped his attack, her spear sweeping down in a deadly arc.

The blade found its mark, piercing his chest, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath as life fled his body.

"One down," Ayra muttered like a grim reaper waiting to take her victims.

Meanwhile, another of Moga's henchmen charged at Ayra from the side, attempting to catch her off guard. But Ayra's reflexes were like a coiled spring, and she twirled her spear with astonishing agility.

"When we first entered the cave to rescue, most of them misunderstood us as Moga's people, but somehow I managed to calm down them," Rona said, as she felt sad just thinking about how they reacted.

Ayra clenched her fists, her anger burning hotter than ever. "Moga will pay for every drop of blood he's spilt and every tear shed in this wretched cave," she declared, her determination unwavering.

Garnt's gaze hardened, his resolve matching Ayra's. "We'll make sure he never harms anyone again," he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

Ayra clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her anger burning hotter than ever. She turned to Garnt, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "Garnt," she said, her gaze fixed on the women, "I'm glad you're here with us.

Without your guidance, we might have become just like those animals in there." She shuddered at the thought of losing their humanity in the face of such cruelty.

He didn't answer Ayra, instead, he just nodded and asked everyone to get ready to leave, so they could leave this cursed place and go back to their beloved village.

***

Back in the village, Baktou sat alone, absentmindedly touching his wounded eye, a constant reminder of his own vulnerability. He watched as Kiriah sat down next to him, his presence offering a small measure of comfort and sadness at the same time.

Baktou couldn't help but ask, "Where's Garnt? What's he doing?"

Kiriah's eyes softened as he looked at Baktou. "Brother is out there, setting a trap to kill Moga," he replied, his voice filled with determination. "Rona and mother are also supporting him, so you don't have to worry about him."

Baktou's expression remained depressed, and he felt overwhelmed by his own helplessness. Kiriah gently tapped his back and said, "Don't be so sad, Baktou. We're doing everything we can to end this nightmare."

Normally, he would try to compete with Baktou, but even he was sensitive enough to know that it wasn't the time for that.

Suddenly, news about Garnt's return reached their ears, and Gundo, who had been sitting nearby, swiftly left the place to meet him. However, before she could make her way to Garnt, she witnessed Ayra leading a group of women into one of the huts, her face grim and determined.

Baktou watched all of this with a sense of curiosity and frustration. He couldn't help but wonder who these women were and what they had endured.

When he overheard a conversation nearby, he learned that they were the women Moga had enslaved. His anger flared, and he muttered through gritted teeth, "That piece of shit, Moga..."

Gundo took the time to check up on the traumatized woman and then turned to Garnt, her expression heavy with concern. "Most of them are severely traumatized," she explained. "It's going to take a lot of time and care for them to recover from what they've been through, but we can do it."