In the center of the room was a head supported by a stick, about two ters above the ground; below it was a torso—limbless; and around the body were the quietly distributed statues of removed limbs, forming a cross with the torso’s position.
"What a perverted cult!" echoed in the mage’s mind.
"Show your strength, or offer your body!" ca a sentence from the mouth of the head statue. But that head, whether made of stone or iron, hadn’t moved at all. Lynch knew that among mages, there was such an Illusion Technique that could replay prerecorded sounds under certain conditions.
"Offer my body? What a joke!" Matron Batana gestured behind her, "Go and smash these statues!"
Lynch stepped back a few steps, avoiding the area where a battle might occur. He silently watched the rcenaries behind him swing their weapons—great swords, wolf fang clubs, massive knives, and large war hamrs—as they charged at the six unmoving statues.
Oh, wrong, those statues are moving now! Lynch was surprised to see two of the statue arms on the ground swinging scimitars in their hands, spinning towards the charging enemies. The arm movents were as fast as lightning, sweeping through the crowd with a silver-white arc, leaving many eager goblins rolling painfully on the ground with only half of a leg left. They pressed their fat, hairy hands against their bleeding wounds, only to find it was futile. Cutting off the main thigh vessels ant death.
The two statue legs didn’t idle either, constantly kicking at the daring attackers, each kick precisely sweeping their knees. With swift and precise attacks accompanied by the continuous "click-clack" sounds, the mage knew all these daring creatures would forever lose their kneecaps and never stand again.
Lynch couldn’t help but be fascinated by these statues capable of high-speed attacks. He closely observed every movent of those statues, watching the flow of magic energy around them. The demon statues currently produced by the Mage Association were no longer usable; they had beco very slow. Although they possessed great power, they couldn’t launch attacks as swift as the statues before them.
Even Finder wasn’t idle; he also observed these ancient relics’ counterattacks. He would never let go of any knowledge related to demon statues. Just when Lynch thought this lee attack was the only offensive mode here, the head in mid-air also demonstrated its ability—the mouth opened, and a scorching magic fla imdiately spewed toward the crowd.
Matron Batana waved her hand, and before Lynch could react, she placed a force field type protective wall in front of the entire team. The fla, carrying heat and death, was solidly blocked outside, causing no harm to the team.
Lynch couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. If the high-temperature fla had spilled over, it would have been like igniting dry kindling, with not many survivors in the entire team. Even if he had ti to use spells like "Absorb Fla Energy Damage," the Dark Elf legion would not have. Just now, they were dazzled by the sudden bright fla and couldn’t react, and unless the fire burned them, the poor Dark Elves wouldn’t be able to detect the attack, nor could they use their nimble skills to avoid the damage.
"Attack! Smash those limbs!" Matron Batana angrily shouted at the remaining irregular troops, "Show your abilities! Or die!"
All the rcenaries surged forward, striving to get close to those statues and swinging their weapons before the attack ca. The machetes and great swords did not significantly harm the statues, only the wolf fang clubs and hamrs could break sothing off the statues.
The Dark Elves’ fodder troops suffered heavy losses, with nurous slave soldiers dying in front of the statues. In the Dark Vision of the Drow, the blood of creatures with body heat brightly stained the ground, and the warriors hurriedly supporting in the rear advanced quickly through the blood pools, leaving one after another black spots in their vision due to the temperature being lower than the surroundings. But the statues with severed limbs were too formidable, slaughtering enemies was like chopping a lon. Many warriors who charged up beca corpses or were directly burned to ash.
The trolls did not move forward; rather, they shyly watched the head statue that had just spewed flas before them. They are a race inherently afraid of acid and fire, as these two elents can imdiately negate their regenerative abilities. They were unwilling to die for nothing.
Finally, the four limbs shattered with a "clatter," leaving only the torso that had never moved. It stood quietly in the center of all the statues.
Matron Batana kept suppressing the fire-spewing head with her spell, a shimring, multicolored spell orb tightly trapping the sprouting flas in the corner. The hot flas the head spewed were roasting its own stone skin, slowly turning red, then blue, and finally, just as it seed to turn slightly white, it too shattered.
The entire room fell silent, with no battle ongoing. Corpses were piled densely on the ground—they, like the temple’s na, beca "Severed Limbs"—but, unfortunately, the room still did not present a passage to continue forward.
Matron Batana’s teeth gritted loudly, and she seed to have forgotten how to enter the next room; the lack of intelligence made her extrely angry.
Yet, oddly and despairingly, the shattered stone statues quickly restored to their original state. They regained their fighting power.
"Is it never-ending?" Lynch cursed in his heart...
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