Chapter 302: Death Walking Among Mortals
"Will this town be destroyed today?" Many could not help but think this very thought, their minds trembling on the precipice of absolute despair.
On the battle street, the undead servants charged forward fearlessly as if the incoming attacks had nothing to do with them. They moved as silent reapers through a field soon to be harvested.
"Shield!"
Thoren commanded through the mental link. Instantly and among the dozens of undead servants, five undead shield wielding soldiers stepped forward with mechanical precision.
They raised their heavy shields to welcome the attack. Their movements were synchronized like a single monstrous entity.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground trembled vehemently under the onslaught. Sparks flew everywhere like dying stars. Many people widened their mouths, waiting to see how a mere shield was going to withstand such an overwhelming attack.
Breath caught in countless throats.
To their shock, the cloaked figures were completely unscathed. Their shields did not even have a burnt mark. No mark whatsoever remained upon them. The metal gleamed mockingly under the pale moons.
"This is impossible..."
Various gasps echoed across the roofs like a chorus of dread.
"How is this even possible?"
While many could not believe what they were seeing, the undead servants had already charged forward. Their advance was relentless, a tide of death given form.
With the spell failing miserably, the melee rushed forward. The Jackal Beastmen army or what was left of them howled fiercely, their eyes filled with bloodlust.
Saliva dripped from their snarling maws.
They were a step ahead of the humans. Their rage made them faster.
They brandished their weapons, ready to hack the cloaked figures into pieces, ready to avenge their fallen kinsmen. Their howls promised unimaginable violence.
However, reality was different from what they expected. It was far crueler.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Howl!
The undead Storm Tyrant welcomed them with open arms, no, with his massive terrifying hammer. The weapon sang a dreadful song through the air.
Heads smashed into wet pieces. Fragments of skull and brain painted the muddy ground.
Bones smashed into meat paste. The sound was a wet crunch that echoed terribly.
Their crude weapons turned into scraps in a single second. Metal bent and shattered like brittle twigs.
The Jackal Beastmen always thought they were savage, bloodthirsty and fearless. They had built their legend upon these brutal traits.
But now...
They saw the real savage, the true bloodthirsty and the genuinely fearless. The hammer descended like heavenly carnage made for flesh. Each impact sent crimson sprays into the choking air.
To the side, the undead Elite Jackal Beastman’s club flew back and forth. The crude weapon became an instrument of absolute destruction.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ahhh! Ahhh!
Jackals could be seen flying into buildings with the sound of their bones crushed into splinters. Bodies crumpled against walls like discarded rag dolls.
None could withstand three attacks from it. Their bodies simply broke apart under the relentless attacks.
As for the Slave Trade Guild members, they were facing their greatest nightmare. A horror beyond their darkest imagination.
Whoosh! Whorish!
A cold gleaming blade rose and fell in poetry in motion and in its wake were bodies split apart in perfect slices. The steel dripped crimson with every graceful arc.
Shield or not.
Nothing could withstand a single strike. They were all split into two. Cleanly.
Heads flew into the sky, rolling for a few seconds before crashing to the ground in sickening thuds. Dead eyes stared at nothing forevermore.
Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!
Various miserable screams filled the street. Many cries for help rang out, many wished this bloody reality would be a dream. Hands reached desperately toward uncaring heavens.
Unfortunately...
Those watching the battle were trembling. Not in excitement but in pure dread. Their bodies shook uncontrollably.
Their eyes were hollow, filled with fear. The fear that comes from the depths of their souls. It was a primal terror that froze the blood.
This should have been a life and death battle but the scene playing before them was far from it. This was no battle at all.
It was a slaughter.
The street had turned into a gruesome slaughterhouse. Jackal or human, their blood had dyed the muddy road in deep crimson. The ground became a thirsty sponge soaking up death.
Innards scattered everywhere like vile confetti. Steaming entrails decorated the muddy road in grotesque patterns.
Severed arms could be seen everywhere as if they had become a common sight. Fingers still twitched upon the bloody road.
Groans and wet cries came from those that had yet to die. Their suffering was a wretched symphony.
It was brutal.
Merciless.
Jackal Beastmen with their skulls shattered could be seen lying helplessly on the road, their brain juice flowing out slowly. Gray matter pooled beneath crushed bone.
The thick stench of blood permeated the air, as if trying to suffocate everyone. Iron and death coated every tongue.
At the beginning, many thought with such an overwhelming force, the silver haired young man was going to die a miserable death. They had been so certain of his demise.
But they were wrong.
Too horribly wrong.
The young man was a devil incarnate. He was death walking among mortals.
As for Thoren, he watched the gory battle with the same detached expression. The scene was no different from what he expected. Carnage was his constant companion.
Before his undead servants leveled up, the fight might have been difficult but with their strength increasing in the ruin, the result was already set in stone. Victory had been inevitable.
Anything lower than this would be a stain upon his terrible fame. His reputation demanded absolute annihilation.
He was not called the Grim Reaper for no reason. The title was earned through rivers of enemy blood.
Suddenly, he creased his brow, his perception catching the sudden shift on a nearby building roof. Danger whispered to his instincts.
’I have been waiting for you...’ He sneered coldly.
How could he not be prepared for an ambush and a sneak attack. Most especially from a ranged attack.
He had anticipated this treachery.
Whoosh!
Dozens of arrows cut through the air with breathtaking speed toward him. Apart from that, dozens of fire attacks came rushing toward him, leaving no room for escape. Flames and steel sought his annihilation.
It was a calculated strike.
In the distance, the Jackal Chief Beastman and the Slave Trade Guild captain watched the attack without any change in their expression. Their faces were masks of cold hope.
But deep within the guild captain’s eyes, a glint filled with anticipation burned. As long as he could kill this demon, the loss of all his guild members would be worth it. Their sacrifice would be justified.
’Just die!’ He screamed inside his mind. His sanity teetered upon this single desperate wish.
Boom! Boom!
The attacks descended upon drowning Thoren completely. Fire raged for a couple of seconds. Arrows stuck into the ground from all sides. Smoke and flame consumed the spot where he stood.
At that moment, the town seemed to hold its breath. Every heart paused on the edge of hope and terror.
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