Chapter 709: 727
Before the arrival of the Werewolf army, Lancelot and his companions united to kill the remaining three Fiends, so they could focus on the new enemies.
For the Human Knight, ordinary Werewolves posed almost no threat, rely draining his energy. However, Lancelot could not afford to focus on these weak yet fierce creatures. He had to withstand the Six-Ard Serpent Demon, or else it would slaughter his allies and the residents of Aldergran, just as efficiently as he killed the Werewolves.
The Serpent Demon had seen Lancelot fight before and knew how troubleso this Human Knight could be. However, the demon did not care about the lives of its companions like Lancelot did; as long as it could drain a bit more of the opponent’s strength, it did not matter how many Werewolves died.
Amidst this surge of beasts, Zariel’s statue remained silent—though exceedingly fierce and almost ubiquitous in the lower planes, the Werewolves were indeed not Fiends but rather beasts influenced by demonic powers.
Lancelot and his companions stood shoulder to shoulder, switching to the lighter Frostslash for the imminent battle. He needed to move and swing his sword as quickly as possible, rather than relying on the force of single attacks. The Temple’s iron shutters were lowered again to shield against the crossbown in the Werewolf army, but they were not fully closed, leaving gaps for archers inside to shoot out.
This certainly affected the vision of the archers, but when faced with such nurous enemies, accuracy wasn’t as crucial.
The ard townspeople played a considerable role every second, with Werewolves howling as they fell, trampled into a pulp by their comrades. Despite this, driven by a thirst for flesh, these beasts kept advancing, believing a feast of slaughter awaited them inside the temple…
Until they crashed into the defense line ford by Lancelot and his companions.
A greenish sword shadow appeared next to the Human Knight, who leapt with a loud shout into the dense masses of the enemy. The Sword Shadow, like lightning tearing through the sky, wove into a deadly storm around the Human Knight. Three Werewolves standing before Lancelot nearly exploded instantaneously, their severed limbs and shattered organs splattering onto other Werewolves, plunging the surrounding enemies into a brief stupor.
And the Human Knight’s longsword kept spinning, turning one Werewolf after another into pieces.
His companions behind him also plunged into the battle. Most conspicuous among them was Bruto, a Dwarf, who entered a berserk state, shouting the na of Moradin, his Warhamr falling like raindrops, dealing death or grievous wounds to anyone it struck. Alamir and Tanya flanked him, one wielding the Hardhead Hamr shining with golden light, resembling a torch, where its strike lted flesh like wax. The other wielded a Pike shrouded in shadows. It held the power of the Fallen Shadow Netherworld, tearing enemy flesh and simultaneously gnawing at the souls of the victims.
As was usual, the least conspicuous was Jing, the sprite girl. So Werewolves didn’t realize there were actually five enemies until just before their deaths—until their groins were suddenly jabbed, and upon bending over from the severe pain, received a heavy blow on the back of their heads.
Just as Lancelot’s killing zeal surged, his Spirit Perception suddenly scread as loudly as an alarm clock in deep sleep. Reacting purely on instinct, Lancelot rolled forward forcefully, barely dodging three sword blades that materialized out of thin air, the closest of which was less than an inch away from the top of his head. It was unclear whether it was due to his tily evasive action or so divine interference from Losanda that skewed the enemy’s attack.
The Serpent Demon, who had initiated the ambush with a blink, was evidently furious at missing its target. It issued a hiss, a sound like a blend of a wolf and a serpent, and swung its sword toward the Human Knight again.
Lancelot quickly stood up from the ground as the jackal n by his side had already retreated in panic. These savage marauders knew all too well how formidable a Human Knight could be, and none wanted to be caught up in the fierce battle that was unfolding.
Facing another sword blade slashing toward him, Lancelot focused his mind, and Frostslash lifted in a unique angle to the upper left, simultaneously parrying the opponent’s three long swords. Having battled Serpent Demons several tis before, he knew a key characteristic of these Demon Commanders in battle: although they had six arms, the arms on the sa side perford the sa actions when attacking. Seizing this pattern offered a chance to parry.
The four weapons briefly collided, emitting a shrill tal clash before flying off in opposite directions. However, this ti, Lancelot distinctly felt sothing different: during the confrontation, a particular force had aided him. He was supposed to be at a disadvantage, but the encounter ended in a draw, profoundly encouraging him.
At that mont, Zariel’s statue lit up again. Since Lancelot had deliberately chosen to stand with his back to the statue, he was unaffected; whereas the Serpent Demon, taking advantage of the situation, spun around, dodging the flash, and simultaneously swung its enormous snake tail at Lancelot.
If it had been any other Human Knight, those clad in Heavy Armor and slow to move, they would have had no choice but to face the attack. But Lancelot was not an ordinary Human Knight. His body soared into the air with the lightness of a butterfly. When the Serpent Demon turned back around, Lancelot was temporarily out of sight.
A dazzling green light shone above the Serpent Demon, which, with an upper body of a jackal man and the rank of a High Rank Demon, looked up, but it was already too late.
The tip of Frostslash plunged into the half-open mouth of the Serpent Demon, and driven by the weight of the Human Knight it carved downwards, slicing open the Demon’s body like a fish-gutting knife, exposing the gory innards within. The long sword finally stabbed into the ground, and with a light flip, Lancelot landed neatly beside it.
The Serpent Demon still maintained its head-tilted posture, its dying eyes filled with disbelief. Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, reached into the open chest cavity of the Serpent Demon, found the still-twitching demon heart and squeezed it forcefully.
The High Rank body collapsed like it had lost all its bones. Collapsing together was the morale of the jackal n army, their tails hanging between their legs heavy as if weighed down, their mouths emitting a sharp, fearful whine as they fled helter-skelter toward the outskirts of the town, like a swarm of rats fleeing a burning house.
Just then, a wild and terrifying laughter pierced the air, causing everyone on the battlefield to involuntarily stop. Lancelot’s heart sank as he turned to look in the direction of the sound, only to see a gigantic jackal man erge from the mist to the west of the town. Its body was covered with healed scars and its fur clumped together in patches stained with blood. It wielded a flail with three heads, blood dripping from its gaping maw. From that sa mouth also ca a fierce, evil laugh, filled with a sense of brutality.
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