Dust of History Chapter 7: Reminiscing about the time of killing (2)

When Sanders saw the oncoming werewolf drop the weapon in his hand, he knew that this was no longer a battle, but a one-sided killing. So he tried his best to order loudly: "All retreat, escape as much as possible, go back and report the situation here..." He was too busy to say the next thing. The reason why the werewolf dropped the weapon was very simple. That kind of thing was originally only used against armor and shields. Now the opponent has given up his defense. No weapon is more flexible than his claws, and it can entangle the opponent and make him poor. Cope with it.

The ogre avoided Sanders' interception, rushed into the crowd smoothly, and began a carnival feast of blood and flesh.

The two huge maces didn't have any tricks, and they didn't even have a fixed target, they just wanted to hit as many people as possible. Any armor is no different from a paper toy, and it cannot hinder the power of these two terrifying weapons in the slightest. In this central area where flesh and internal organs splattered everywhere, there was hardly a scream. Once in contact with the waving mace, the person who was alive at the last moment immediately became a mass of dead objects mixed with weapons, armor, bones and muscles

The ogre frantically waved its weapon, moved forward, charged at a crowded place, trampled on it, and then rushed to another crowded direction, like a killing machine driven by **** demons, constantly throwing everything that can The flesh and blood that came into contact with it was crushed and crushed.

Sanders' order is irrelevant. When the ogre rushed into the crowd, the soldiers felt nothing but hysterical terror. The soldiers rushed towards the mountain crossing, most of them were intercepted by ogres in the middle, massacred, and turned into a blurred mass of flesh and blood, while werewolves and lizardmen sniped and killed those who could escape with superb agility. The two orcs guarding the intersection took out two smaller crossbow arrows and fired them at people who could occasionally rush to the intersection. Some soldiers jumped off the cliff in extreme fear, and stopped abruptly after pulling out a long scream.

The people who are still on the top of the mountain can't even scream.

When people face the fear of death and run away, but know that they will still be turned into a pool of flesh and blood in the end, fear and despair will eat away all the strength and mind, leaving only a cry wail. It was a sound that people who had never heard could never imagine it.

The sea of ​​wailing sounds, the strange sound of bones breaking and body deforming, the tones of weapons tearing air and flesh are intertwined and undulating, forming a concerto that people will never forget once they hear it. A similar person who was clearly the same as himself just now, can suddenly see Bai Shengsheng's bones turned out, his internal organs are still pulsating but they have been pulled out of his body, blood and meat are cheaper than garbage. Asa suddenly understood the exact meaning of the word 'hell'.

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

Asa remembers this soldier, who fought with him during the conscription inspection. The originally strong arm that was once entangled with him was crushed like mud, and embedded into his chest together with the iron shield in his hand. .

A swarm of fear mingled with sadness overwhelmed all his fighting spirit at once. A few desperate attacks finally forced the lizardman to jump out backwards. Asa seized this fleeting opportunity to turn around and dash into the camp.

Sanders also took the same action as Asa at almost the same time. After a few quick attacks with swords, a piece of scalp on his forehead was grabbed as the werewolf retreated. He was standing closer to the junction ahead, with the ogre and the lizardman behind him, so he sprinted toward the junction where only the two orcs and the cloaked figure remained.

There was a huge wind behind him, and a mace flew over his head, flying down the mountain with the power to turn him into a puddle of mud.

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

"Captain, run..." the soldier shouted with all his remaining strength. The blood-stained face was a bit hideous, it was a face distorted by countless scars, half of the face was once smashed by a hammer weapon and dented. This is an experienced veteran. He probably fell to the ground and pretended to be dead, and put his arms around the ogre's head when he was not paying attention.

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

He can no longer dodge left or right. Now he is running with all his strength, and once he moves left and right, he can only roll on the spot, and the werewolf behind him will immediately catch up and entangle him again.

There was an ogre growl, followed by a half scream and a strange sound. It seems that many dead branches are put into a wet towel and twisted vigorously, the sound of dense cracking and the sound of liquid oozing are mixed.

Sanders had no time to look back. He put all his strength on his right leg and jumped forward. healing spells.

There was a muffled sound. Sanders slid a certain distance in the air and landed, staggered a few steps, spat out a mouthful of blood, and then rushed to the intersection again.

With great luck, the ax just landed on the edge of the close-fitting breastplate, breaking three ribs and injuring a lung. The healing spells prepared in advance immediately stop bleeding and relieve pain, and will not affect actions in a short time.

Only about ten meters away from the intersection, the fangs at the corners of the mouths of the two orcs and the slightly panicked expressions on their faces were clearly visible. The cloaked figure in the middle still didn't respond at all.

As long as you rush down the mountain and jump into the Dono River, you have a chance of escape. Sanders concentrated all his remaining mana into his sword-holding hands.

The cliff was in front of him, and Asa remembered the location of the tree very clearly, so he jumped up.

Fortunately, he turned around in mid-air and took a look. The lizard man took out a small crossbow from behind and shot at him. He bowed his head in the air and turned forward, feeling the crossbow arrows brushing against his skin, and then his body completely flew out of the cliff and fell straight down. The lizardman who followed him stood on the edge of the cliff and watched as he trampled off a branch in mid-air, then inserted another branch with a knife, completely eased the fall and entered the water safely.

When looking back at the top of the mountain for the last time, Asa saw a white light shining on the whole mountain like daytime.

The sword in Sanders' hand shone as sharply as the sun. All magic power has been poured into the blade.

The blood flowing from his forehead had turned everything he saw into blood red in his left eye. Sanders didn't feel it at all, and all his spiritual will was in the sword that was about to be swung.

The two half-orcs covered their eyes and dodged sideways under the strong light, but the cloaked figure in the middle remained motionless. In the strong light of the sword, the face under the cloak was clearly visible.

It was a human face. Slightly thin, pale, sculpturally ribbed, and sculpturally silent. Under the long eyelashes, the black eyes are like a bottomless pool that has stayed for a thousand years, unable to stir up any fluctuations, but quietly reflecting the dazzling sword light that is coming.

There are still ten steps away, and the person still has no intention of avoiding it, the expression on his face has not changed at all, and his whole body has not moved at all. It seems to be a stone statue that has stood there since the beginning of the world, and will remain there motionless until the next beginning of the world.

There are still eight steps, seven steps, six steps, five steps, four steps and three steps. Sanders rushed forward, stepped forward, turned 360 degrees and drew his sword. The reaction force of the toes on the ground is transmitted through the calf, thigh, waist, chest, upper shoulder, wrist, and directly to the sword body. Every muscle in the body has unreservedly superimposed its power all the way to the swing of the sword.

This is not a man wielding a sword, but a sword manipulating a man. Every slightest movement is to pour out one's own sharpness and the imminent magic power according to the most perfect track without leaving a trace. All the orcs stopped moving, completely shocked and attracted by this sword.

The light of the sword turned into a light curtain in the rotation, and it stretched forward rapidly with the power to cut the entire night. There was no sound, but all the orcs felt that they were about to hear the mountain cracking in two.

All the speed, strength, magic, will, spirit, and any tiny existence in life are all fused in this sword into blooming and splashing unprecedented sparks. Sanders no longer has fear, anger, and even the desire to escape. It's like an unrestrained singer sang to the climax of the whole aria, just indulging in melting and bursting his soul. He is about to split the flesh and blood body in front of him into two like a fictional imagination with the highest note...

The incomparably brilliant light curtain, which seemed to last to the end of the world and made a loud bang, suddenly disappeared, and was restored to a stationary sword by a hand.

This is a very clean and slender hand. The fingers are very long, each joint is well-proportioned, and the protrusions are beautiful, so that people will naturally think of all elegant words and movements when they see it.

With a matching graceful gesture, the graceful hand grasped the edge of the sword like a butterfly fluttering in the air.

All the feeling of cohesion and incisiveness suddenly stopped. The first thing Sanders felt was loss, the loss of a singer whose throat is cut just as he is about to sing his best notes. Then comes pain and fear.

He can't see the other hand, which must be equally elegant, he can only feel it. It had completely submerged into his chest, and he could even feel that the four fingers protruding from his back were also so slender, with well-proportioned joints.

Sanders opened his mouth and wanted to moan, but found that all the voices were drowned in blood in his throat. It seemed that the blood in the whole body was pulled to the throat, rushing out from the trachea and esophagus. The hand on the chest was pulled out, the blood had a better outlet, and immediately exited from the throat cheerfully and diverted.

Sanders clearly felt his strength, will, spirit, all the things that were still surging in his body just now, together with the blood, with the withdrawal of the hand, they were pouring out of the body for thousands of miles. Those things that were originally so solid and abundant that constituted his entire life just flowed out from the big hole in his chest, no matter how unwilling he was, there was no room for recovery. Finally, even the strength to support his feet dissipated in his body, and he collapsed slumped.

The light of the long sword faded rapidly, and then it shattered into countless tiny flakes with a light snap, scattered on the master's body.

A gust of wind blew by, and the human man's cloak turned into strands of tattered cloth strips and fell down under the blowing of the mountain wind, witnessing the unparalleled sword energy just now.

The man raised the hand holding the long sword, and looked at the moonlight. A vague bloodstain lay across the center of the palm ~IndoMTL.com~ like a new palm print. The man's face remained unmoved like a sculpture.

The werewolf and lizardman rummaged through the pile of corpses carefully. Even relatively complete corpses had to be patched up a few times until they became an impossible mass of flesh and blood. The lizardman who fought against Asa came over and reported the situation in the lizardman language with the majority of consonants.

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

An owl perched on a dead branch next to the camp, staring blankly at the ground full of flesh and blood with two big eyes, and made a very timely cooing sound.

The man suddenly kicked a small stone away, and with a splash, the owl on the branch was smashed to pieces like a pile of cotton. The remains of the owl fell, leaching black liquid from it, and a strong stench overwhelmed the **** mountain. The orc and werewolf let out a strange cry, and hurriedly covered their noses. The man frowned as he looked at the stinky black pieces on the ground, his stone-like face finally wavered, revealing a slightly worried look.

In the dimly lit small room, the mage in red reached out and gently touched the crystal ball whose image suddenly went out, and sighed: "Sandro must feel very distressed when he sees so many fresh corpses."