The Abused is The Abuser in Another World

Chapter 32: Paths of Desperation

The once serene swamp of Scalewatch was now eerily silent, its murky waters still stained with the remnants of the battle that had just passed. Razor led his people through the dense swamplands, his fierce gaze scanning their surroundings, ensuring no pursuers followed. Behind him, the lizardfolk warriors moved quietly, helping the wounded as they trudged further from the ruins of their home. Their settlement was gone, burned to ash by Captain Roderick's forces, and the sting of their defeat lingered in Razor's heart.

Razor gritted his teeth as he moved, frustration gnawing at him. His people, though fierce and resilient, were tired and injured, and the swamps, though they offered shelter, could only protect them for so long. The Scalewatch warriors had fought valiantly, but the humans were relentless, and now they had to make a choice: fight again or find refuge elsewhere.

One of his warriors, limping beside him, broke the heavy silence. "Where do we go from here, Razor? We cannot keep running."

Razor remained silent, his eyes sweeping over his people. They couldn't stay here—if the humans returned, they would be slaughtered. But they had few places to go. For lizardfolk, the swamp was their sanctuary, their only true home, and now it was no longer safe.

"We move deeper into the swamps," Razor said finally, though his voice held little conviction. "We'll find shelter where the humans won't dare follow."

Before anyone could respond, Elder Greenheart's calm, steady voice cut through the gloom. "And how long do you think we can hide before they find us again?"

Razor turned sharply to face the elder, his eyes flashing with irritation. "What would you have me do, Greenheart? Lead our people into another slaughter? The swamps have protected us before, they will again."

Greenheart, his scaled face lined with age and wisdom, shook his head slowly. "The swamps may shelter us for a time, but we cannot outrun this threat forever. These humans will return, stronger than before. We must seek allies if we are to survive."

Razor snorted, his tail flicking in irritation as he turned away. "And who would you have us turn to? The humans are the ones hunting us down. Who else could offer us protection?"

Greenheart's eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. "The Drakharoth Enclave. Their warriors are strong, and they've been preparing for a greater battle. They may offer us protection if we seek them out."

At the mention of the Enclave, Razor's expression darkened further. "The Enclave?" he growled, his voice filled with disdain. "You would have us bow to outsiders? We know nothing of their leaders. For all we know, they'll use us as pawns in their own war."

Greenheart met Razor's glare with unwavering calm. "Perhaps. But staying here will only guarantee our death. We are in no position to fight another battle alone, Razor. The Enclave may be our only chance."

Razor's jaw clenched, the tension in his body clear as he fought against his instinctive distrust. "And what if they turn on us, Greenheart? What then? Do we simply trade one enemy for another?"

Greenheart's gaze softened. "The Enclave offered an alliance once before. They face the same threat we do now. Our strength may lie in unity. The humans have more numbers than both of us, and we cannot afford to fight this war alone."

Razor stood silent, torn between his duty to protect his people and his mistrust of those outside the swamps. His grip on his spear tightened as he glanced back at his wounded warriors and the elders of his tribe. They had fought bravely, but even he knew they couldn't withstand another assault.