Chapter 300: The Hunters Who Became Prey
The Jackal Beastmen had always been regarded as one of the most terrifying races within the Scorched Outskirt.
To countless awakeners, they were a powerful race capable of crushing ordinary humans without difficulty. Their brutal strength, savage instincts, and adaptability to the harsh Bleeding Desert made them feared by nearly everyone.
Most ordinary awakeners needed to form complete parties simply to defeat a single Jackal Beastman successfully. Even then, victory often came with casualties and rivers of blood.
Yet now, before everyone present, those same feared Beastmen were being slaughtered like worthless animals.
Their bodies had been hacked apart so effortlessly that the crowd struggled to believe what they had witnessed.
Even the remaining Jackal Beastmen outside the gate no longer dared growl loudly. Their previous arrogance had vanished completely while unease spread across their savage faces.
Humans often believed the Jackal Beastmen were fearless creatures that only understood slaughter and bloodshed.
They were wrong.
Every race respected the strong.
And the strong always preyed upon the weak.
Inside the Bleeding Desert, the Jackal Beastmen viewed themselves as rulers of the Scorched Outskirt because of their overwhelming physical power and terrifying endurance.
For years, countless humans had challenged their authority only to die miserably. Their corpses were often hung outside the town gates like broken trophies. Some were left to rot beneath the scorching sun while vultures devoured their flesh slowly.
That was why the Beastmen despised humans deeply.
Humans had bowed before them for years.
Why would they not look down upon them?
But now, everything unfolding before their eyes shattered those beliefs entirely.
The corpses lying near the gate resembled cold reminders that something had changed completely.
Both humans and Beastmen involuntarily shuddered while staring at the severed limbs scattered across the dusty road. Blood slowly spread across the ground while the smell of death thickened heavily in the air.
The crowd quickly dispersed afterward.
With the guards dead, nobody cared about maintaining order anymore.
Everyone wanted to spread the shocking news as quickly as possible.
Meanwhile, Thoren continued walking deeper into the town calmly while his undead servants followed silently behind him.
Their cloaked figures radiated invisible pressure while traces of blood continued dripping from their weapons.
The atmosphere throughout the street became increasingly tense.
Suddenly, a group of humans stepped forward and blocked Thoren’s path. Their expressions were filled with hostility and cold determination.
The leading figure was a thin young man carrying a curved saber stained with dry blood. His sharp eyes stared directly at Thoren with restrained fury.
"Finally, you decided to show yourself," the young man muttered darkly.
For hours, the Slave Trade Guild had practically overturned the entire town while searching desperately for the silver haired necromancer.
Yet now, the target had appeared openly in broad daylight as though mocking them intentionally.
To the young man, this felt like prey walking willingly into a hunter’s trap. And he couldn’t be more happy.
As for Thoren, he slowly halted his footsteps before lifting his cold gaze toward the group. His expression remained completely emotionless.
"You belong to the Slave Trade Guild," he stated calmly.
His tone carried absolute certainty rather than questioning.
Before the young man could answer, Thoren continued speaking indifferently.
"Originally, your guild stood last upon my killing list," he said quietly. "However, since you delivered yourselves personally, I might as well deal with you now."
The surrounding guild members froze instantly.
Their eyes widened while disbelief filled their faces.
Did he truly think he could kill all of them openly inside Jackal Town?
Madness.
Absolute madness.
Unfortunately for them, Thoren did not care whether they believed him or not.
From the moment they stepped before him, they had already become corpses in his mind.
It was that simple.
Whoosh!
Without warning, five cloaked figures burst forward like bloodthirsty phantoms. Their weapons rose high into the air while terrifying killing intent flooded the street instantly.
An axe.
A spear.
A black blade.
A massive hammer.
Every weapon descended violently toward the guild members.
"T This..."
The expressions of the Slave Trade Guild members changed immediately. Their previous confidence disappeared completely while grim determination replaced it.
A heavily armored Tank instantly stepped forward while pushing his shield upward with both hands.
The remaining guild members reacted swiftly afterward. Weapons were unsheathed rapidly while mana surged violently around their bodies.
Behind them, a female mage raised her staff while beginning to cast a wind spell hurriedly.
Bang!
Crack!
A deafening explosion echoed across the street.
The Tank was sent flying backward violently like a broken doll before crashing heavily against the stone ground.
His shield had shattered completely into fragments.
A horrifying gash stretched across his chest while fractured white ribs protruded through torn flesh. Blood poured continuously from the wound while his face turned deathly pale.
"What?"
The remaining guild members were horrified instantly. Their hearts nearly stopped beating from shock.
However, they had no time to dwell upon it.
The cloaked undead were already upon them.
If their strongest defender could not withstand a single strike, their own fates would not differ much.
Meanwhile, the Tank coughed violently while blood poured from his mouth. Trembling painfully, he attempted to rise to his feet and retreat.
Unfortunately, the cloaked executioner already stood before him silently.
The Tank opened his mouth desperately.
Perhaps to beg.
Perhaps to scream.
But the second strike descended before any sound could escape.
Bang!
His body split apart instantly.
Blood erupted everywhere while organs scattered across the street.
Brutal.
Merciless.
The battle had only begun, yet the streets were already transforming into a slaughterhouse.
On both sides of the road, crowds gathered rapidly while staring at the massacre unfolding before them.
Open battles inside Jackal Town were no longer uncommon today.
However, the weaker side always died miserably.
Many humans who previously knew nothing about the Slave Trade Guild had learned about their existence through recent arrests and disappearances. Their hatred toward the organization had grown steadily.
Yet nobody possessed the courage to resist openly.
Now, while watching this bloody confrontation, many secretly hoped the impossible might finally happen.
Even if the chances were extremely small.
Still, the first brutal death had already stunned them deeply.
Several people rubbed their eyes repeatedly while wondering whether they were hallucinating.
Before the crowd could fully process what happened, another miserable scream echoed through the street.
A Level 27 warrior swung his heavy blade desperately toward one of the cloaked figures.
Clang!
His weapon shattered into two pieces instantly.
The following axe strike severed his entire arm from the shoulder.
Ahhh!
The warrior screamed miserably while staring at his severed arm twitching upon the blood soaked ground.
Unfortunately, his agony lasted only briefly.
Another axe strike descended heavily upon his skull.
Crack!
His head exploded apart violently. Bone fragments and brain matter splattered across nearby walls while his corpse collapsed lifelessly.
Ahhh!
Nearby, the female Wind Mage widened her eyes in absolute terror.
A curved saber sliced cleanly through her body from shoulder to torso before she could even finish casting her spell.
Blood sprayed violently into the air while her broken body crashed onto the ground heavily.
Even until death, confusion remained visible inside her fading eyes.
She could not understand why her wind blades had failed completely against the cloaked monsters.
Within less than a minute, every guild member lay dead inside expanding pools of blood.
Some bodies were missing arms.
Others lacked legs.
Several corpses had been split apart entirely.
The street resembled a butcher’s slaughter pit.
Watching the massacre, the surrounding onlookers held their breath while dread consumed their hearts completely.
Nobody dared make a sound.
Nobody dared move recklessly.
Just then, thick and heavy footsteps echoed from the far end of the street.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
The ground itself seemed to tremble slightly beneath the approaching force.
Instantly, every head turned toward the distant road.
And what they saw caused countless expressions to change dramatically.