"Here!" The Protectorate handler mounted on the snarling warg as the huge beast clawed the hard dirt called out. He jerked the reins hard to control the wolf like beast and kicked its side before the warg calmed down. The leather clad handler hopped off the back of his warg and looked over the spot where his beast had dug the ground with its claws and found a scrap of rag. He held it to the dripping nose of the warg and snapped, "Track!"

The warg growled as it sniffed the piece of rag before it licked out and swallowed it. The handler satisfied that the warg has the trail, climbed back on its back and settled down on a saddle mounted on the warg's back. Once secured comfortably in the saddle, the handler kicked his heels against the flanks of the warg, urging it forward. "Haa!"

The warg shot off, its sensitive nose picking the scent of the mother and son murderer that had escaped from the work camp and was headed into the dust lands. The red flag attached to the back of the handler fluttered wildly in the wind and was the beacon for the two Penal class heavy cruisers following at a leisurely pace behind.

-----

"Boss," Wolf said as he gestured to the rear. "We got company!"

The two crimson airships had been constantly in view at their rear. Tiny dots of mounted infantry could even be seen and headed towards their direction. Tyrier paused and looked back, mentally calculating distances between the two sides. "They must have some magic to track us..."

"At our current speed," Hitsu said in a low voice as he glanced towards the Princess and the Grand Prince. "They will catch up with us within an hour or two..."

"Take ten!" Tyrier called out to everyone before he gestured for Claymore Two leader over for a quick discussion.

Claymore Two's Leader Roast Tanner was an eight year veteran of the old ways of war in his late twenties with a steady look on his rough face. Originally part of the Bluewood Empire's 2nd Imperial Army, having been defeated and captured as a prisoner of war, he joined the UN after the war. Having no other skills, other than the family trade of tanning monster skins and war, he signed up immediately to the UN military when they were recruiting.

His experience as a small unit leader and possessing certain aptitudes that matched the UN military's strict requirements for a special operations operative after he had completed basic, he was fast tracked into the 101st training program.

Now, he stood beside the legendary Tyrier of Claymore One, whom even with much information of their previous missions still classified even among the team leads of the 101st, he knew enough to know Claymore One was The team that completed the hardest missions. Hence, he generally deferred to the majority of the overall command decisions made by Tyrier despite having the same rank.

"We are still an hour away from RP Charlie, where reinforcements will be waiting," Tyrier said. "They might catch up to us before that..."

"How about delaying them somewhat?" Roast suggested. "Lay some claymores here and there... It should slow whoever is tracking us down and teach the others to be more cautious, further slowing their pursuit?"

"No, that would work only against a ground force," Tyrier shook his head. "They have airships and it would only give them confirmation that they are on the right trail..."

"The problem is those airships," Tyrier said. "Unless we can distract them long enough to link up with our people..."

Roast stared at Tyrier for a moment before he nodded, "I will take my boys and lead them on a wild wyvern chase."

"We just need fifteen minutes." Tyrier placed his hand on Roast's shoulder and said, "Get out of there once you delay them long enough and link up back with us!"

Roast nodded and he walked over to his team and quickly briefed them on their new mission. After that, he came before the Princess and crouched down before her. "Your Highness, if I may, I would like some of those strips of cloth you used to carry the Grand Prince."

She looked down at the tattered strips bound around her body and she quickly removed them and handed them over to the soldier. She watched them curiously as the soldier handed out the strips of cloth to the others and watched them bind them over their boots.

Once ready, the soldiers exchanged a few words amongst themselves before they separated from the party. She turned to look at Tyrier who had a grim expression on his face and she decided to keep her questions to herself as she hugged her son. Tyrier watched the departing Claymore Two team for another moment more before he clapped his hands and said, "Alright, let's continue!"

"Your Highness, we need to move fast," Tyrier said. "It would be best if you allow my men to carry your son for you."

Sherene reluctantly gave in and handed her son over to the medic who was supporting her with recovery spells all the way. She anxiously watched the soldier carry her son on his back while another soldier rigged up some sort of carrying harness for the boy. Her son giggled happily as he was bounced up and down. Seeing her son enjoying himself, some of the anxiety in her heart disappeared.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Let's go!" Tyrier said. "We need to get to those ruins before the Beetle Heads catch up to us!"

-----

The warg snarled as it pawed the terrain before it. It raised its head sniffing the air left and right while its handler waited. Finally, the warg turned to the trail that had a stronger scent and rushed forward. The scent grew stronger and the warg's wild hunting instincts took over. It suddenly came to a stop before a petrified tree and tried to paw at the fluttering strip of dirty cloth.

The handler frowned as he reined in the agitated warg and he reached out to the fluttering cloth strip that appeared to be tied to the lower branch of the petrified tree. He pulled the strip of cloth off, not noticing the thin near invisible spider ant silk thread attached to the cloth strip. The handler felt some resistance from the cloth strip and without any further thoughts, gave a hard yank and finally managed to pull the cloth strip out.

He barely had two seconds to even know what mistake he did when the claymore tapped and hidden on a crook of the petrified tree detonated at above head level. 700 steel ball bearings fanned out at a velocity of over a thousand meters per second and instantly, the handler, his warg and two other trackers and their mounts following along were sent to the Halls of Judgement.

-----

Roast looked up from his position when the boom of the claymore echoed over. He cast a knowing glance to the rest of his team who were setting up an ambush spot. He returned to what he was doing, carefully stabbing the pongs of the claymore into the hard earth. He attached a det cord to the claymore before he retreated back to his team, uncoiling the det cord as he rejoin them.

The ambush position he picked was an outcrop of boulders sticking out from the earth like some sort of monstrous growth. It provided ample overhead protection against any light artillery and also concealment from the air. The detonation of the booby trap meant that they had successfully lured the Protectorate trackers to their location. Now all they had to do was to hold out for at least fifteen minutes before beating a retreat.

It did not take long before the two Protectorate airships came hovering close. Both airships came low to the ground and from their concealed position, Claymore Two could see the trademark beetle helmets of the Protectorate Paladins rappelling off the underside of the airships.

"Fifty... Sixty..." One of the Claymore Two operatives counted the number of enemy soldiers being deployed. "At least two company sized troops..."

"Do not engage until they are right on top of us!" Roast ordered as he wanted to lure the enemy close so that they will hesitate to deploy their steam cannons against their own troops. "We do not want to get bombarded by their airship guns!"

The two companies of Paladins spread out into two long lines. They marched across the barren landscape, combing the terrain for any sights of the enemy. Roast cursed softly as he saw how disperse the enemy lines were. It meant that there was a high chance that they would come under bombardment if they prove somehow hard to handle.

"Hold your fire!" He hissed into the team comms. He decided to distract the enemy instead of directly engaging them at this moment. He clanked the detonator in his hand before he squeezed the trigger and within a half second the claymore detonated.

The ball bearings flayed the Paladins, outright killing two Paladins closest to the blast. But as they were too spread out, only another one other Paladin was injured. The injured Paladin collapsed down with a wail of pain. The sudden unexpected explosion froze the Paladins as they raised their magic barriers and looked around, trying to spot the source of the attack.

Yet, no matter how they search they could not find the attackers. The commander leading the Paladins could only point towards the outcrop where Claymore Two was hidden as the only most likely place where the enemy was. The Paladins quickly reform up and this time, they marched straight for the rocky outcrop.

The second claymore detonation was less effective against the approaching Paladins as their personal magical barriers had been deployed. Other than shattering the shields of a few Paladins, the Paladins barely suffered any injuries. They advanced even more cautiously towards the outcrop.

Roast waited until the enemy was within charging distance before he snapped out orders. Seven suppressed rifles popped, all aimed at the enemy commander. Faced with another unknown attack the enemy commander's magical barrier was quickly overwhelmed and his bullet ridden body flopped backwards.

The Protectorate soldiers seeing their commander falling, let out a prayer cry and charged straight at Roast and his men. The fury of suppressed gunfire intensified as one of the Claymore Two soldiers swapped out his rifle for an LMG. Smoke started spewing out from a couple of canisters as Roast had his men deploy a smokescreen to cover their positions from the enemy airships.

Magical barriers flared and fuzzed out with bodies toppling lifelessly back and suddenly it turned into a melee in the smoke. The Claymore Two operatives donned masks and slapped down their vision goggles, switching to infra and the hindering smoke turned to their advantage as the enemy became blind in the choking chemical smoke.

Monomolecular sword bayonets flashed and easily passed through magical barriers that were designed against magic and ranged attacks. The blade, less than a molecule wide on its cutting edge sliced through armour and flesh as if they were magically enhanced. The Protectorate Paladins were suddenly like lambs to slaughter as the Claymore Two operatives ran wild in their ranks.

A deep silence seemed to settle over the site of the skirmish before being shattered by the hiss pop of steam cannons fired from both the Protectorate airships. Heavy projectiles landed all over the rocky outcrop, smashing up corpses, earth and rock. The two Protectorate cruisers hovered above in the skies, their forward mounted steam cannons fired volley after volley, bombarding the area until nothing but craters and smoke remained. A moment later, more lines were dropped and another two companies of Paladins were deployed down again.

Roast and his men having decimated the enemy had fled under the cover of smoke and laid flat in their earlier hasty prepped shell scape a short distance away. Using only a sheet of smart camo to conceal their positions, the operatives of Claymore Two huddled down in their shallow graves as they weathered the bombardment occurring just a few dozen meters away.