The three Areab warriors carried Bara to the side of Parkinson and the others. Bara had stopped bleeding and was lying in the corner with a painful face, but the left arm had probably left his body forever.
In the entire hall, there were only a few of them left of almost all the elite soldiers. Looking at the corpses on the ground, a sour feeling welled up in her heart and her eyes were moist.
"What's wrong? Are you afraid?" The black-cloaked man carried the sickle on his shoulder. The dark red fluid-like face actually formed a pitiful expression. "Hand the sword over to me, and I'll let you off."
Bellak shook his head hard, smiled and said, "In your dreams! Even if I die, I have to drag you along with me, or how can I deal with these brothers who have sacrificed!"
The black-robed man
