"Ketuma—" The kobold looked at him with a stunned expression as Thor caught up with the faint light in the corridor. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

"Suo, Lord Thor...... How did you come back!? His small, bulging eyes were wide open, his tail erected like an antenna, and he rubbed his eyes vigorously with his stubby paws, as if he could not believe that the man standing in front of him was real.

"I'm here to help you, Ketuma." Thor smiled and said calmly, though he wasn't sure if the kobold would be able to read the smile on his face in such a dark environment, but the gentle tone must have been unmistakably accurate, because Ketuma was already choking.

"Suo...... Lord Thor - Help Ketuma! …… You're really ...... In addition to the teachers...... No one has ever ...... Help ......" Its eyes were full of water, and one of them slid down the black dog's nose without paying attention, dripping from its chin to the damp ground, and the tears seemed to carry the high temperature, splashing on the ground and generating a puff of smoke, making a "snort" sound.

"Well, now isn't the time to talk about this, your people need help, do you?" Thor could only try to comfort the strange kobold, he had never seen such an easily touched creature, but perhaps it was such a strange Ketuma that made Thor unable to relax and want to help him.

"Woo-woo-woo-Thor...... My lord, I mean......" It wiped away the hot tears that flowed from it with its little paws, rubbed its hands vigorously against the tattered cloth, and said to Thor gratefully:

"Shall we ...... Come on...... Go this way, Lord Thor...... I can hear the people shouting......"

As he spoke, Ketuma slung the knight's rapier behind him, and led Thor to run deeper into the sewers.

No matter how hard Thor listened, he couldn't hear anything other than the footsteps of the two of them, but the kobold could hear his companion's cries for help, and he couldn't help but be amazed.

However, after running a few corners, there was finally an audible howl in the wind, and it grew louder and clearer, until even Thor could hear it clearly.

It was a downright puppy bark, not the lingua franca of Wotan that Thor was familiar with, but it was clearly rhythmic, perhaps the language peculiar to kobolds.

Even if you don't understand the meaning of this cry, you can imagine what kind of disaster these kobolds are suffering from the barking of despair, fear, and pain.

After turning the last corner, the sewer suddenly became bright, far from being comparable to the candle that Ketuma had on his head, and two flaming torches, wrapped in rags and coated with pine resin, were burning violently.

"Ah...... Jason, be careful—ah, this thing is leaning towards me......" Appearing in Thor's sight were two men holding torches, the one who spoke was a middle-aged man in his thirties, wearing a silk robe, a leather waistcoat, and a pair of delicate leather boots, which were barely discernible in the light of the torch.

As if fearing that the sewer would stain his robe, the man carefully lifted the corner of his robe, shouted and kicked away a kobold who crawled towards him, a look of utter disgust on his face.

"Hahaha, Seraphim—then you have to be careful, these unattractive little mice are not as weak as they think, and they are very fierce when they bite you."

The other man who spoke was a man of about forty years of age, and unlike his well-dressed companions, this man looked as if he had just stepped down from the battlefield, as neat as a brownish-red flat-headed steel plate, and his upper body was old and torn leather armor, and the inner part was thick and I don't know what else to protect himself.

He was wearing coarse cloth trousers on the lower half of his body, and his thick leggings were stained with disgusting mud, and the corners of his cloak were dragged to the ground, but he didn't care about it, and while laughing at his companion named Seraphim, he raised his hand and stabbed the sword in his hand into the body of the kobold he had trampled underfoot.

"Whoa—" Blood splattered on Jason's scarred, twisted face as he screamed in a terrible scream.

"Cut, the blood of these rats is still hot—" He excitedly stuck out his tongue and licked the blood from the corners of his mouth, pursing his lips as if he were carefully tasting something.

There were still some wounded kobolds lying on the ground, and at this time they all let out louder wails of "roar-roar".

Seraphim, a merchant on the side, took out a silk handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, lightly covered his nose, and reminded with disgust on his face, "Don't forget what we're here for, Jason—" and then he cursed to himself:

"Holy shit, why did I follow you to this damn sewer?"

"It's because we didn't catch Marten, so we came to kill a few filthy rats to vent our anger, didn't we?" Jason in the slaughter went into a state of madness, the hot blood made him excited, and every time he felt as if he was back in the Frost Moon War, back to the day before his kingdom fell, back to the towering walls of Silver Keep to fight the enemy.

Only then could he feel that he was truly alive, not as a man of a lost country, as a soulless mercenary, numbly shuttling through the city he had never really known and liked—Worms.

Jason was even more greedy for pleasure, and he raised his sword to stab another kobold who was lying on the ground and screaming, but his forehead suddenly snapped and a stone slammed into his head.

"Who-!" Seraphim's panicked screams could be heard beside him, and the timid businessman had become nervous since the news of Malten's escape, at least Jason thought.

Blood ran down his forehead, over his upper eyelids, over his cheeks, and at the corners of his mouth. Jason stuck out his tongue to pick it up, licked his own blood with the tip of his tongue, sipped it into his mouth, and savored it.

"So my blood tastes no different from the blood of these lowly kobolds—" Thinking so, he finally raised his eyes to see the culprit who had stoned his head.

"Cut, when did someone be willing to surrender their identity and mix with kobolds?" Muttering disdainfully, Jason's gaze swept over the two men who slowly walked out of the darkness, a kobold and a human to be exact.

"There's really no shortage of sewers—" Standing in front of Jason was a kobold with an angry face and a thin sword on his back, and a tall man with a vigilant face and a large knife pinned to his waist, staring at him.

"Damn you—Ketuma won't let you go!" The enraged dwarf kobold slowly drew the thin sword that was behind him, the length of the blade and the handle almost exceeding its own height.

"Oh, even the rats in the sewers have used their swords - are you worthy of it?" Jason sneered, then glared at the kobold with hatred on his face: "What the hell is this city—it's filthy. ”