"ROOOAAR!!" With a furious howl, the berserk Vichy tribesman bent his legs and charged at Delina and her two guards. He had barely covered half the distance when several sharp whistles tore through the air.
Haisha's ice arrows shot forward at a speed impossible to evade, slamming into his body. The arrowheads pierced straight through his chest.
The Vichy halted mid-charge. He looked down at the icy shafts protruding from his chest. A flicker of confusion crossed his crimson eyes. He scratched his head, as if mildly puzzled. Then, apparently finding the arrows inconvenient, he slapped them casually, snapping them off.
As if that weren't enough, he brushed at his body a few more times, grinding the remaining shards flat until nothing remained. Only then did it roar again and lunge at Haisha, claws raised.
Haisha: "!!!"
What the hell is this thing?
The beautiful mage's eyes went wide, her expression vivid enough to rival a stage performance. Shock aside, her reactions were swift; she had no particular hobby involving getting punched.
Boom!
The berserk Vichy's fist slammed into the ice wall behind her. The entire cellar trembled violently. A sickening cracking sound spread from the point of impact, and within seconds, dozens of white fractures spiderwebbed across the thick ice wall.
Pasfield's heart nearly leapt out of his throat. His face went pale.
If this place collapsed and buried him alive, he wouldn't even have the chance to argue his case in the afterlife.
He desperately wanted Ur to grab him and make a tactical retreat.
But seeing Ur standing there with utter composure, like a mountain unmoved by the storm, Pasfield found himself unable to voice the suggestion.
Damn it… did I hire him, or did he hire me? Why does this feel backwards? Pasfield grumbled inwardly.
Delina's two bodyguards grew fully serious.
That last punch had far exceeded expectations. This was an ice cavern carved within a snow mountain. To crack the walls here required strength no ordinary Vichy could possess. Not to mention this creature's bizarre near-immortality.
"Be careful," Anrika said gravely. "His life force is draining rapidly. In less than three minutes, he'll probably collapse on his own."
Her magic was closely tied to the concept of life; she could clearly sense the violent depletion of vitality from the creature's body.
Bang!
The creature seemed fixated on Haisha. Twisting his body, he charged again and threw another punch.
She leapt back. At the same time, her hands flared with magic. A blue-white circle formed beneath her feet, and several jagged ice spikes erupted from the ground, impaling the Vichy straight through.
Then, as before, the creature glanced down at the spikes skewering his midsection, casually smashed them apart, and continued his pursuit. "%##￥—!"
Haisha spat out a string of curses in a language Ur didn't recognize.
What kind of nonsense was this?
In the middle of the night, out of nowhere, a monster appears—can't be killed, can't be restrained, ridiculously strong, ridiculously fast—and decides to come after them.
What, did it think women were easy targets?
The more Haisha thought about it, the angrier she became.
A surge of terrifying magic began rising within the cellar. The temperature dropped several degrees in an instant. Casting one freezing magic circle after another formed around her, layer upon layer. In just a few seconds, nearly thirty overlapping magic arrays hovered in the air.
"Holy—!" Anrika's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Without hesitation, she grabbed Delina and bolted for the exit, moving so fast it looked as if she wished for an extra pair of legs.
Ur reacted just as quickly.
Pasfield was already trembling from the oppressive magic when suddenly he was yanked off his feet. Ur had grabbed him by the collar and hauled him through the air like a flapping banner, dragging him straight out of the cellar.
The moment the four of them cleared the entrance, a blinding light erupted from within. Then came a succession of deep, thunderous explosions.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Wave after wave of magical shock rippled outward. Even standing at a distance, Pasfield and Delina, both with little magical ability, felt a bone-chilling cold wash over them.
The entrance to the cellar began freezing over at a visible speed, only to shatter under the force of the shockwaves, freeze again, then shatter again. This cycle repeated dozens of times.
Finally, the commotion roused the rest of the Vichy settlement.
The first to arrive was none other than the old fox himself, Kakatu.
Perhaps it was imagination, but as Ur watched him approach, he thought he glimpsed a trace of excitement in the old man's eyes. The kind of anticipation someone shows when a long-awaited spectacle is about to unfold.
But when Kakatu saw that Pasfield and Delina were not, in fact, fighting each other, that excitement vanished instantly.
His face fell. As he stepped closer, something shifted again. His expression changed abruptly. Shock, fury, and even a hint of panic flashed across his features. All within a few seconds.
Ur couldn't help but admire the performance. For a businessman, the speed at which this man changed expressions was truly masterful.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Soon, hurried footsteps thundered in from behind. More than a hundred Vichy tribesmen rushed in, forming a tight circle around Ur and the others. Their gazes were far from friendly.
Clearly, they believed Ur's group was responsible for the disturbance.
Well.
They weren't entirely wrong. The tribesmen hesitated briefly, about to question Kakatu. But before they could speak, Kakatu's authoritative voice rang out. "Guba! Quickly, bring the Sacred Artifact!"
❖≔﴾═══════ﺤ
Next Chapter: Execution
Next Next Chapter: The Summit
Next Next Next Chapter: Demon God