The Adventurer's Mission Log

Chapter 31 "Old Friend"

As he struck down another enemy in front of him, a cleaver on his right cleaved his neck. The blow, capable of cleaving through rock, ripped through his scales, embedded itself in his flesh, and became lodged in his bone.

This was the kind of blow he could withstand. As long as his head wasn't cut off, the lizardman could endure it and continue fighting.

Tenor felt pain, but his body was instead excited by the injury.

The primal will hijacked human thought, making his thinking increasingly difficult, as combat-related calculations and judgments occupied almost all of his time.

He began to act like a cunning beast, rather than a beastly human.

A sense of fervor and purification filled his mind, and he heard himself roar like a beast, howling in the battle language of Thoros:

"Xa'cuaq!" (Taking revenge on an old enemy)

After he knocked the attacker aside with his crown, another large unicorn charged at him.

Cold-blooded and restless, he continued his charge without hesitation or regard for the risks.

The brutal collision with the charging lizardmen killed the Great Horned Beast, but Tenor's chest scales were also smashed by the Great Horned Beast's dying axe blow.

Blood trickled down the shattered flesh and scales, but Thoros did not stop.

The nearby horned beasts were terrified by this sight and retreated in a commotion, staring in fear at the pair of beastly eyes.

Despite being severely injured and surrounded, the lizardman's eyes showed no anger or murderous intent, only indifference.

It's as if killing has lost all other meaning, leaving only pure killing.

After several unfortunate creatures were killed on the spot by the horned beasts behind them, the horded beasts once again charged desperately towards Tenor, towards death.

Looking up, the edge of the forest was still filled with wild beastmen.

There was no fear, no despair. Thoreau's genes were accustomed to such scenes. Every elder had experienced them thousands of times. Only those who were not eliminated could become veterans.

The minotaur limped over from behind, and Tenor began to fight his way to the riverbank, trying to escape by diving, but with the constant interference from the giant horned beast, the distance of several dozen steps seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

As Gottlieb was chopping an axe into the collarbone of a great horned beast, the blade embedded in the bone, before he could pull it out, something older and more instinctively repulsive appeared.

"Magic!" the dwarf roared angrily, alerting his comrades.

In the northwest, in the distance, a figure emerged silently from the shadows between two trees.

Sky-blue magical runes appeared on the sword of the uninvited guest, and before the swordsman could fully reveal himself, a wisp of wind had already flown from his fingertips.

The gentle breeze turned into a hurricane, and the powerful airflow swept towards the besieged dwarves and lizardmen, rapidly expanding the area.

The wind blades swept past in a fan shape, like an invisible giant scythe harvesting wheat.

The unicorn's body was cleanly sliced ​​open, and bits of flesh and black blood were splattered on the muddy ground. The unicorn was also dismembered on the spot.

The giant horned beasts were blessed by their evil god and possessed greater magical resistance, but they were still knocked to the ground by the air currents, their bodies mangled and bloody.

In an instant, the beastmen in the entire fan-shaped area were scattered and staggered, revealing an escape route.

The airflow did not stop, blowing towards Tenor and his companion, as well as the horned beasts fighting around them, but it seemed to be weakened by an invisible force field as it approached.

The magic shattered into harmless air currents, only stirring Gottlieb's orange tiara and beard.

He pulled his battle axe from the beastman's corpse, glanced in the direction the magic had come from, spat, and said, "Ha!"

It contained no gratitude; it was a mocking, contemptuous sneer.

He was a dwarf, and every dwarf hates magic and is hated by magic.

If you want to control a mage and prevent him from casting spells.

Therefore, using the black stone of the cold-blooded race to make shackles and having a group of dwarves hold him have the same effect.

It wasn't just magic that displeased him.

The dwarf Gotley saw the elf clearly: an ugly, beardless, treacherous, and abominable creature.

A tall, slender magic swordsman, whose long blade still gleamed with the nauseating glow of lingering magic, charged toward them.

Anger and hatred made Gotley's eyes bloodshot; he was almost going mad.

The elf's scale armor skirt was so exquisite it was repulsive, the movements behind the breastplate were so fluid it was repulsive, and the expression on the effeminate face was even more repulsive.

That was an arrogant belief that he was saving all living beings.

He was taught from a young age that elves are traitors who break promises and covenants, enemies who abandon faith in the War of the Longbeard, and the oldest and never-fading records in the Book of Hatred.

Every dwarf clearly remembers that even when they came to a strange land far from their homeland, they never forgot their blood feud!

Now the elf stands on this battlefield strewn with corpses, striking a pose of savior, thinking a dwarf will be grateful to him for it.

Gotley narrowed his single eye, the glint in it even more dangerous than when he had faced the pack of beasts. He let out a low growl from deep within his throat:

"Get your magic off my battlefield, you sissy!" He stepped forward, standing between the elf and the southerner.

He wasn't protecting the lizardman; rather, he didn't want the elf to feel that he was qualified to stand between two warriors who had been fighting side-by-side for half a day.

With the pressure suddenly reduced, Tenor crushed the horned beast's head, and after the killing stopped, his thoughts gradually returned.

He glanced briefly at the horned beasts that were closing in from all directions, and at the minotaur that had chosen a new target—the monster had its eye on the new mage.

The elves' magic was of great help, and they had to use this time to break out.

But the situation at this point doesn't seem very friendly.

Gotley spoke as if facing his father's killer, while the elven voice was calm and cold:

"If you two don't mind having an extra sword..." The magic swordsman tilted his head slightly, pointing with his chin at the approaching beastmen, "I think we share the same stance on these beasts."

Gottri understands the Elven language of Etalin, and he has dealt with the Elves before.

Tenor found familiar parts in the Elvish language and could barely understand it—the language had similarities to the language of the cold-blooded races.

He was about to answer when he heard Gottlieb say in a suppressed voice:

"You don't mind?"

As if looking at a particularly fine pile of animal dung that had been accidentally stepped on, Gotley's beard trembled slightly with anger, but his voice was kept extremely low, the dangerous tone only heard when a dwarf was truly enraged:

"Listen up, you long-eared sissy."

I'd rather stand back-to-back with a lizard than stand on the same battlefield as a pointy-eared schemer!

The dwarf's insults were expected; if he readily accepted help, the magic swordsman would become suspicious of his identity.

It's now confirmed that he is a standard dwarf.

The wind blew the golden hair from the swordsman's forehead behind his ears, and the corners of his mouth even turned up slightly—a smile with a hint of pity, characteristic of his 'Azur' ancestors, the high elves, when they heard vulgar language.

"I heard you."

The elf completed another spell, deflecting the unicorn's arrow.

Ignoring their hatred, Tenor grabbed the dwarf and ran towards the elves, knowing it would be too late if they waited any longer.

As the dwarves struggled violently, spittle flew from their mouths as they shouted in their dwarven dialect:

"Don't talk to me about 'shared positions'! You kill animals because they're in your way! I kill animals because I'm looking for a glorious death! We're not doing the same thing."

"Alright, as you wish. By the way—" the magic swordsman said as if he were discussing something completely unrelated to the current danger, "Does your lizard friend understand Kazari German?"

Or has it simply gotten used to your rudeness and is too lazy to throw you back into the dung heap?

Then, amidst another burst of profanities from the dwarves, the magic swordsman had already turned and taken the lead, his steps as light as a cheetah moving through the bushes, his voice drifting back from ahead, still as steady as ever:

"Follow me, I've found a safe valley."

If you make it that far, you can hurl all sorts of insults at me tonight—provided your vocabulary allows it.

Tenor interrupted the elves' and dwarves' passionate reminiscing, speaking in the Imperial Commons with an unquestionable tone, "We must first return to Pusala and destroy the ritual array, lest the demons use it to descend!"

He was in a hurry to kill the wizard when he arrived, and didn't have time to pay attention to the magic circle in the room behind the idol. Gottlieb doesn't seem like a meticulous person either.

It would be terrible if a demon used the magic circle, or if the Beastmen discovered and used it.

The appearance of large groups of beastmen and mysterious elves south of Laghettia was itself abnormal, and Tenor did not want the abnormality to escalate, after all, he was in Laghettia.