Explosions rang out from not far away.

The sound came so suddenly and violently that it drowned out the screams of another victim. Rivendell, who was already nervous, grabbed the hilt of the sword at his waist, and only because there was nothing unusual in his sight did he force himself not to pull out the weapon immediately. A few of the slightly less calm guards had already done so, and some even looked in the direction of the Dreadlord, wondering if this was another trick of the demon. But they were clever enough to quickly disguise their thoughts, and instead looked to the perimeter of the square, alerting against possible enemies.

No one showed up there. The silence after the explosion died down was even more than before, and if it weren't for everyone looking at each other, they would almost wonder if they were hallucinating.

"What's that?" The Dreadlord spoke, raising his head with curved horns and staring in the direction of the explosion.

Although it wasn't the first time he had heard the creature's vocalization, the distinct human voice still made the guards beside Rivendell shudder to varying degrees. The baron gave them a fierce look to warn them to be calm. Although he couldn't handle it calmly himself, and somehow, even the usually calm Hatis and his necromancers seemed to be a little resistant to the demon, but Rivendell managed to keep himself under the pressure and not show anything out of the ordinary.

He even took the initiative to take a step towards the Dreadlord, and said as respectfully as possible, "Maybe a few rats have run in, my lord." ”

The Dreadlord scratched his chin with his claw-sharp fingers, making a sound similar to a file rubbing against a stone, and grinned at Rivendell, "Wouldn't it be overkill for a warrior like you to deal with a few rats, Baron?" ”

"No, sir." Despite the unexpectedly polite manners, Rivinedell still didn't dare to relax in the slightest, "My guards and I are more than willing to solve this small problem. "Instead of standing here and watching one living person after another being drained. Even if his heart was as cold as iron and he could cut off the heads of these former acquaintances without hesitation, compared to such a miserable and desperate death, the confrontation between soldiers could be regarded as a kind of mercy.

"Ah, that's the work." The Dreadlord said politely, the smile on his face becoming more and more evil, as if he had insight into all the thoughts in his heart.

Rivendell bowed so he wouldn't look the demon in the eye. Then he turned away, and the others gathered around him without command, and surrounded him and left the place.

As they walked out of sight of the square, more than one of them let out a slight sigh of relief, and the atmosphere of the whole team was light. It was hard for Rivendell to blame them, for even he felt relieved to leave the slaughterhouse. But he coughed heavily and warned, "Be vigilant—we're not out for a walk!" ”

The guards then became solemn and prepared their weapons. These people may not be the most trained, but they are the most loyal and fierce, and even after seeing the undead and demons, which only appear in bedside stories, they do not scream and run away like other cowards, but rally more closely around him.

The streets were silent and empty. Rivendell had previously sent some men on patrol to find survivors who might have escaped the first wave of searches. Now he didn't see any of them. Maybe they've wandered somewhere else, or maybe they're dead. He didn't bother to think about it, and walked straight in the direction of the explosion with his team.

According to Rivendell's expectations, it would take a while to find traces of the intruders. They're bound to hide, and when they go from house to house, everything is already in shambles. However, he wanted to wander outside a little longer anyway, so he didn't ask Hatis to send two "hounds" with him. Besides, he prefers the way the dogs look when they are still alive, beautiful and alert. Unfortunately, they barked at the sight of the necromancer, and were so enthusiastic about protecting their masters that Rivendell had to give them to Hades' bitten apprentices to practice.

They soon found the scene of the explosion on the main road leading to the gates of the city. The wide street was littered with charred pieces of flesh, and at first glance it was difficult to tell where they came from, until one of the guards pulled a full human jaw out of the pile of meat, while another archer found half a near-carbonized human hand—Rivendell snorted from his nose—and clutched a gemstone necklace.

The radiating marks on the stone pavement point to the source of the explosion, but the cause of the explosion is difficult to say. Whatever substance caused the explosion is difficult to identify right away. His men picked through the piles of debris, and Rivendell looked around. The fences in front of the houses on both sides were smashed, and many mud and blood footprints stretched under the porch. But the doors were shut, every window was shut, and the curtains were drawn. Completely subconsciously, he looked up at the heights.

— From one of the windows, Gianna Proudmore was looking at him.

"Watch out for the left!"

Rivendell, who recognized the face, immediately yelled. Still, it's a little late. Several men rushed in front of him, hastily raising their shields to block his view, but tongues of fire still poked their heads out of the gaps, licking the shield bearer fiercely. Rivendell raised his hand in front of his face, and the sand from the heat slammed into his armor. He staggered back two steps to counteract the impact of the explosion. He didn't bother to check the losses, and as soon as the roar in his ears fell, he shouted: "Archer! Second floor windows! ”

The shouts of the master were like whips, causing the survivors, who had neither been blown to charred pieces nor rolled and wailing on the ground, to immediately get up from the ground and raise their weapons as quickly as they could. A sparse array of arrows flew towards the second-story windows of the house, some nailed to the window frames, some falling into the windows. There were no screams or other signs that someone had hit their target, and Rivendell didn't expect them to just kill a mage. It is enough to be able to suppress the other party in time. He waved his hand to the side and ordered, "You guys, go get her out!" ”

The soldiers he had ordered immediately rushed to the front of the house. One of them took three steps and tried to knock the door open, only to be shaken back. The other immediately took up his position, bowed his head like a bull and lunged over, and after a loud bang, he was bounced to the ground by the reaction force. The door was perfunctory and slaggy, but it still didn't move.

"Damn, there's got to be something behind this." The first man lifted his bewildered companion to his feet and shouted, "The door is blocked, sir!" ”

"The windows were also sealed." Another person reported.

"Then get out of the way!"

So they raised their axes and slashed and slashed at the doors and windows. At the same time, Rivendell brushed aside the shielded guard in front of him and took two steps forward to examine his loss. Most of the archers in light leather armor were either blown to pieces or burned to the ground, and only a dozen or so were left to monitor the windows as he commanded. The infantry did not suffer many losses, but most of them were burned, and some of those who were close were directly blown out, and all of them fell lightly, and they all relied on the support of the people next to them to stand up. Rivendell hissed angrily from between his teeth, grabbed a random man's arm, and told him to give the seriously wounded a good time.

Everyone, including Rivendell, thought they had trapped the mage. So when the attack came from the rear, they were unprepared. This time, the fireball struck the gathered archers with precision, sweeping away the few survivors. The surrounding infantry also suffered heavy losses again, and many of the wounded were unable to get back up after they fell. Even Rivendell was knocked to the ground by the wave of air, rolled several times, and crashed into a few remaining fences. If he hadn't taken a few steps forward just now and left the others behind, I'm afraid he would have been blown away.

Rivendell let out a furious roar, as if something had exploded in his chest. He grabbed a weapon that had fallen beside him and threw it in the direction of the fireball. The hot sword galloped through the street, shattering the door panel. Rivendell couldn't help but be stunned. He had thought that Prodmore had sealed the houses on both sides so that he could play tricks on them. But now—

He didn't think much about it, and hurriedly got up, and shouted at the same time: "Go to the house, quickly!" ”

Those who were still able to move immediately obeyed his order and rushed forward in a hurry, fearing that if they took a step too slowly, they would be hit on their heads by another fireball. And this is indeed the fate of those who are left behind. A third fireball engulfed the soldiers standing in front of the door of another house, who were supposed to be in a dead end, but were now the perfect target. The closed doors and windows gave them nowhere to hide, and they were eventually buried in the burning porch amid screams.

When the last man rushed into the house, there was no one alive on the street. The men who had escaped by chance stood in the hall, panting and trembling, as embarrassed and dazed as dogs that had been kicked by a horse. Rivendell gritted his teeth and gurgled. He was fed up with being led by the nose like this: "Go upstairs!" Kill the mage before she runs away! ”

His anger provoked a strong reaction among the soldiers. The thugs, who had finally recovered from the surprise attack, were equally mad, desperate for blood to soothe their frustrated pride. They immediately roared, grabbed their weapons, and scrambled towards the stairs in front of them.

Just before the first person was about to step onto the landing at the top of the staircase, a figure paced almost unhurriedly around the corner of the hallway. He only had time to see a flash of light, and the next moment his throat was slitted neatly. The man flipped his wrist and slammed the hilt of his sword into the chest of the dying man, causing him to fall backwards and fall on top of another man who was climbing upwards and was unsteady on his feet. This time it was unexpected, and it was on the stairs again, so they rolled down one by one. Only the last few people reacted in time and didn't dare to pick it up, but quickly jumped to the side and watched the other companions fall into a ball at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hmm." When the thud of the impact died down, the culprit standing at the top of the staircase cleared his throat and said slowly, "—no way." ”

He looked down at the remnants of the defeated army and grinned as a predator.

Rivendell is one of the few to have been left behind and thus spared from this farce. He stood there, looking up at the other man, his nails digging into his palms. He didn't recognize the man, but he was familiar with the suit of armor on his body.

Hattis, you bastard owe me another account. He thought gloomily.

After a chaotic spell of swearing and kicking and punching, his men barely managed to get up from the ground, and only the corpse lay beneath the stairs. Watching the blood slowly soak the floor, Rivendell didn't bother to say anything to his friends and foes, just squeezed out two cold words from between his teeth: "Kill him." ”

The master's order made the soldiers cheer up again and climb the stairs. Despite the fire in their eyes, they didn't dare to rush directly as recklessly as they had just now. The staircase was only wide enough for two people to stand side by side, so they were placed in a row, some distance between the front and back, clinging to the handrails on either side.

With a mocking smile, the man watched unhurriedly as they climbed up. The moment the first two stepped on the penultimate steps, he burst into flames. The transition from static to dynamic took only a moment, and the twin swords that had been hanging by his side approached the enemy in the blink of an eye. After a few hasty parries, one person rolled down the stairs again, and the other was thrown aside, breaking the railing of the staircase and smashing it to the floor on the first floor with broken pieces of wood.

One of them rushed up and swung his axe, and the man easily grabbed his weapon, pulling him in front of the other with a flick of his wrist. When his companion was caught off guard and cut off his arm, he was also pierced through the heart by another sword. The man who lost his arm was one step slower and had his throat slit and also fell through the gap in the railing.

The vacancies were immediately filled by latecomers, and the men took the butcher to dispose of them one by one in the same orderly manner as he would have when he disposed of the meat on the cutting board. Everyone tried their best to kill him, at least drag him down, but a few minor injuries made him more and more fierce. The golden eyes shone amazingly in the dim light of the room, as if there was light coming out of it. No one could make him move a single step, and the only thing that could get past him to the second floor was blood splashing from their throats.

With such an efficient slaughter, the remaining thugs were finally frightened. They may not have been able to get past the people in front of them to see the battle, but they could see corpses being thrown under the stairs, blood flowing from above making the surface of the stairs slippery, and the smell in the air was almost the same as that of a slaughterhouse. For the first time, someone stopped and hesitated, and the people behind him didn't push him.

Rivendell, who witnessed the whole process, turned grim and realized that he was trapped. Of course, he could choose to retreat to the street outside, but Prodmore must have been waiting for them. And if you want to solve Prodmore, you must go beyond this gladiator in front of you. But this was obviously not an easy task, at least not for his men, and now they had lost the courage to continue fighting.

At the end of the day, he was left with only one choice.

Rivendell let out a breath, then drew his sword and walked to the stairs.