Servant Of The Necromancer

Remembering the Killing Time(2)

When Sanders saw the oncoming werewolf drop the weapon in his hand, he knew that this was no longer a battle, but would become a one-sided killing. So he did his best to order loudly, "All retreat, try to escape if you can, go back and report the situation here ....." The next words he was already too busy to speak out. The werewolf dropped his weapon for the simple reason that that kind of thing was originally only against armor and shields, and now that this opponent had given up his own defense, there was no weapon that was more flexible and more capable of entangling his opponent and making him poor than his own claws.

The ogre avoided Sanders' interception and smoothly charged into the crowd, beginning a carnival feast of blood and flesh wielding.

The two large wolf tooth hammer does not have any fancy changes, not even a fixed target, only to be able to hit as many bodies as possible. Any defensive gear is no different from a paper mache toy, and cannot have the slightest defense against the power of these two horrible weapons. In the heart of this flesh and guts splattered everywhere, there was hardly a cry of misery. Once in contact with the wielding wolf tooth hammer, the last instant or alive people immediately became a mass of weapons armor bones muscles mixed into a pile of dead things

Ogre wildly swinging weapons, advancing, to the crowded places, trampling, and then rushing to another crowded direction, as a killing machine driven by the demons of hell, and constantly to all the flesh and blood that can come into contact with the body crushed to pieces, crushed.

Sanders' orders were no longer relevant. When the ogre rushed into the crowd, there was only hysterical terror in the hearts of the soldiers. The soldiers surged towards the trailhead, the vast majority were intercepted by the ogres in the middle, slaughtered and turned into a blur of flesh and blood, while the werewolves and lizardmen sniped the ones that could escape with their superior agility. The two orcs guarding the intersection took out two smaller crossbows and fired them at the occasional person who was able to rush close to the intersection, and the arrows were unmistakable, all passing straight through the brain. Some of the soldiers jumped off the cliff in extreme fear, pulling out a long scream and then stopped.

Those who were still on the hill could not even scream.

When people face the fear of death and flee, but know that in the end still into a puddle of flesh and blood, fear and despair will eat all the strength and will to a trickle, the only thing left is a cry like a wail. That is a kind of unheard people can never rely on imagination to feel the sound.

The wail spreads over an ocean, the strange sound of bones breaking and muscles deforming, the tone of weapons tearing through the air and flesh interlocking and undulating, synthesizing a concerto that people will never forget once they hear it. One just now is clearly the same as their own kind, suddenly you can see the white bones turned out, internal organs are still pulsing but has been pulled out of the body, blood and flesh cheap than garbage. Asa suddenly understood the exact meaning of the word 'hell'.

Half of the soldier's body flew over and landed next to Asa and the lizardman who were killing each other. The corpse was pulled into two by a huge force below the abdomen, and the internal organs were scattered all the way to the lower half of the shen, which was more than ten meters away.

Asa remembered this soldier, during the conscription inspection and their own hands, the originally very strong, once entwined with their own arms were crushed like mud and set into the chest with the iron shield in their hands.

The fear mixed with sadness swarmed immediately overshadowed all his fighting spirit. A few lifeless knife attacks, finally the lizardman in forced to jump backwards, Asa seized this fleeting opportunity to turn and dart into the camp.

Sanders also almost at the same time and Asa took the same action. After a few sharp sword attacks, a piece of scalp on his forehead was caught off as the werewolf backed away. He was standing closer to the junction ahead, with the ogres and lizardmen behind him, so he ran towards the junction occupied by only two orcs and the cloaked figure.

There was a loud gust of wind behind him and a wolf's tooth hammer swept over his head and flew down the hill with the power to turn him into a puddle of mud.

Sanders glanced back as the only surviving soldier wrapped his arms around the ogre's head, causing him to throw the hammer slightly higher.

"Captain, run ...." The soldier shouted wildly with all the strength he had left. There was something grim about the blood-stained face, a face distorted by numerous wounds, half of which had once been dented by a hammer-like weapon that had shattered it. This was a seasoned veteran who probably fell to the ground and played dead, only to wrap his arms around the ogre's head when he wasn't looking.

In this glimpse he also saw the werewolf pick up an axe on the ground and throw it. The axe spun rapidly in the air and pulled a straight line after his back.

He could no longer dodge from side to side. He was now running at full speed, and once he moved from side to side he could only roll on the ground, and the werewolves behind him would immediately catch up and re-tangle him.

There was an ogre's growl, then a half-hearted scream and a very strange sound. As if a lot of dead branches into a wet towel twisted hard, the sound of dense fractures and liquid oozing mixed.

Sanders did not have the time to look back, he used all his strength on the right leg to jump forward, while the longsword to the back of a negative, protect the spine, gather magic ready for a healing spell.

A muffled sound. Sanders slid out of the air some distance to the ground, stumbled a few steps, spurted a mouthful of blood, and then rushed back to the intersection.

The axe was thrown just over the edge of the close heart guard, breaking three ribs and injuring a lung. The healing spells prepared in advance immediately stop the bleeding and analgesia, and will not affect the movement in a short time.

Only about ten meters away from the junction, the two Orcs' mouth fangs and slightly panicked look on their faces are clearly visible. The cloaked figure in the middle remained without the slightest reaction.

As long as you rush down the hill and jump into the Dorno River, there is a chance of escape. Sanders gathered all the remaining magic power in the hands that held the sword.

The cliff was right in front of him, the location of the tree Asa remembered very well, he flew and jumped up.

Fortunately, he twisted his body in mid-air to look, the lizardman fished out a small crossbow from behind him and shot at him. He bent low in the air and flipped forward, feeling the crossbow arrow graze his skin, then his body flew completely off the cliff and fell straight down. The lizardmen following him watched from the edge of the cliff as he stepped on a branch in mid-air, thrust his knife into another branch, and then entered the water safely after completely easing his descent.

At the last glance back at the hill, Asa saw a white light shining the whole hill as if it were daylight.

The sword in Sanders' hand emitted an aura comparable to that of the sun. All the magic power had been poured into the sword.

The blood flowing down from his forehead had turned everything he saw in his left eye blood red, and Sanders felt absolutely nothing, all his mental will was in the sword that was about to be wielded.

The two Orcs covered their eyes under the intense light and dodged to the side, the cloaked figure in the middle remained unmoving. Under the strong light from the longsword, the face under the cloak could be seen clearly.

It was a human face. Slightly thin, pale, sculpture-like bones, but also like a sculpture like silent silence. Under the long eyelashes, black eyes like a thousand years of bottomless pond, can not afford any fluctuations, only quietly reflecting the oncoming dazzling sword light.

There are still ten steps away, the person still does not have the slightest intention to avoid, the expression on his face has not changed in the slightest, and his whole body has not moved in any way. As if it is a stone statue that has stood there since the beginning of the world, and will remain there until the beginning of the next world.

There are eight steps, seven steps, six steps, five steps, four steps, three steps Sanders forward step three hundred and sixty degrees to turn around and sword. Toes in the ground reaction force through the calf thigh waist to the chest and then on the shoulder to the wrist straight to the sword. Every muscle in the body has its power superimposed all the way to the swing of the sword without reservation.

This is not a person wielding the sword, but the sword is manipulating the person. Each of the smallest movements are designed to pour out their sharpness and the touch of magic power in the most perfect track without leaving a trace. All the orcs stopped moving, completely shocked and captivated by the sword.

The light of the sword in the rotation into a curtain of light, with the entire night can be cut open the power of the rapid extension forward. There was not the slightest sound, but all the orcs felt like they were about to hear the sound of the mountain being split in two.

All the speed, power, magic, will, spirit, any little bit of life existed in this sword all fused into a blossoming splash of unprecedented sparks. Sanders heart has no more fear, anger, even the desire to escape also lost. Just like a singer who sings to the climax of the whole aria, just indulge in the dissolution of their souls, bursting out. He was about to split the flesh and blood body in front of him in two like a fictitious imagination with the highest notes .......

The splendid and incomparable curtain of light that seemed to continue to the end of the world with a loud sound that opened up the heavens and the earth suddenly disappeared and was reduced by a hand to a sword that stood still.

This is a very clean, very slender hand. Fingers are long, every bone is well-proportioned, jutting out beautifully, so that at first glance will naturally associate all the words and movements of elegance.

This elegant hand squeezed the sword blade with an elegant gesture to match, like flicking a butterfly flying in the air.

All the sensations of a breath of dripping were suddenly followed by a pause. Sanders first felt the loss, the singer's most beautiful note is about to praise out when suddenly cut the throat of that loss. Then came the pain and fear.

The other hand, which must have been equally graceful, he could not see, only feel. That has been the whole into his chest, he even also felt the four fingers protruding from the back is also so long and well-boned.

Sanders opened his mouth to make a moan, but found that all the sound was drowned out by the blood in his throat. It seemed as if all the blood in his body had been torn to his throat, from the trachea, esophagus outward scrambling to swarm out. The hand in the chest was withdrawn, the blood had a better cathartic place, and immediately exited the throat with joy and relief and rerouted.

Sanders clearly felt his own strength, will, spirit, just a moment ago in the body surging all the things and blood together with the withdrawal of the hand out of the body in a cascade. Those originally so real, abundant, constitute the whole of his life things just flowed out of the chest hole, out, no matter how much he did not want even a trace of redemption. Finally even the strength to stand on his feet dissipated in his torso, and he collapsed in a heap.

The light of the longsword faded rapidly, and then snapped softly into countless tiny pieces, scattered on the body of the master.

A gust of wind blew by, and the human man's cloak turned into a ragged wisp of cloth falling under the mountain breeze, witnessing the matchless sword energy just now.

The man lifted the hand that had squeezed the longsword and looked at it against the moonlight. A bloodstain, if any, crossed the center of his palm, like a newborn palm line. The man's face remained like a statue without the slightest fluctuation.

The werewolves and lizardmen went through the pile of bodies, even the more complete corpses had to be patched up a few more times, until it became impossible to have any life left in the mass of flesh and blood. The lizardman who had fought with Asa came over and reported the situation in the lizardman language, where consonants were the majority.

The man pointed to a werewolf at the river below the mountain and waved his hand, and the werewolf immediately ran down the mountain and disappeared into the night.

An owl rested on a dead branch next to the camp, staring blankly with two big eyes at the ground full of blood and flesh, making a well-timed cooing sound.

The man suddenly kicked a small stone, a puff, the owl on the branch like a pile of corrupt cotton by the stone smashed and scattered. The remains of the owl fell, from which soaked out the black liquid, a strong stench overwhelmed the mountain of blood. Orcs and wolves let out a strange cry, busy covering their noses. The man looked at the ground those emitting the stench of black pieces, frowned a little, stone-like face finally had a hint of fluctuation, slightly showing a worried look.

The dimly lit fighting room, the red-clad mage reached out and gently touched the crystal ball whose image went out abruptly and sighed: "So many fresh corpses, Sandru must have been heartbroken to see."