"Marquis, you can't do this! If Baron Hisham is bitten or scratched, he will be easily infected by the darkness, and we will have to take him away and purify him. ”

Seeing that Charles had his men fight a Night Cultist, the Priest of Dawn, who had been guarding Jabbar carefully, stepped forward and issued a very serious warning.

He was the captain of the Second Night Patrol of the Church of St. Lemmon, a monk of the eighth rank, and the Church of St. Lemont had only two complete night patrols, and was often exposed to all kinds of dark infestations, and he knew better than anyone how dangerous a night transcendent was.

Baron Hisham, who was trembling with his wooden sword, suddenly had hope in his heart, and looked at his lord eagerly, his pleading eyes were so pitiful in the dark night.

"If a lord is afraid to face the darkness out of fear, what right does he have to provide protection for his people, the Night Cultists killed hundreds of people in my territory the other day, shouldn't a noble and brave nobleman summon up his bravery to defend the glory of his ancestors?

Charles's words were as cold as ice, and the harsh accusations that even Kano, the captain of the night patrol, were involved, as a servant of the light, he was the one who should protect the civilians from the darkness, and now that there was such a thing as a mid-mountain village in the diocese of Lorraine, they must be responsible for negligence.

Kano's face was very ugly, and he didn't insist on saying anything, anyway, it was Charles's subordinates who were burned to death at that time, regardless of his dime.

Jabbar, the Night Cultist, was obviously jealous of the Night Patrol of the Church of Twilight, holding a wooden sword and not knowing whether to cut people for a meal of meat, or to kneel and beg for mercy so that they would not be burned.

"You, don't use your teeth, don't use your claws, you win and eat meat, and lose and eat fire!" Charles shouted coldly at the hesitant Abdul-Jabbar.

"You, put on the armor, put on the helmet, win and continue to be your baron, and if you lose, you will lose everything you have!"

“............”

Hisham heard Charles's words, and finally had a little confidence in his heart, he was an experienced person in the Mid-Mountain Village, and knew the ferocity and cruelty of the Night Cultists, but if the other party couldn't use claws and teeth, just a wooden sword, it would basically not

He hurriedly shouted at his servants to help him put on his armor, and while he still had the courage in his heart, he roared and rushed towards Jabbar.

"Whew!"

Jabbar, the Night Cultist, also let out a howl of grievance, picked up his sword, which he was not good at, and fought with Hisham as he rushed over.

He is indeed a strange soft egg among the Night Cultists, otherwise he would not have done such a thing as surrendering, and the entire Lorraine region has not caught a living Night Cultist for so many years.

But what happened to Abdul-Jabbar after he was captured made him feel deeply humiliated, what is "not to use his claws" and what is "not to bite with his mouth"?

Am I a transcendent nocturnal stalker, isn't it a slave soldier who has no thoughts and feelings and only knows how to kill?

Besides, even if I'm a slave, can I bite through metal armor?

Jabbar had the urge to break the jar, and he really wished he could be killed by the heavily armored soldier on the other side, and he would die a hundred times.

It's a pity that Baron Hisham didn't succeed in this death-bent Night Cultist, and his clumsy performance was completely out of line with the standards expected of a noble child.

Hisham also fought with Jabbar with a bloody and brave spirit at the beginning, and the knight's swordsmanship made him so-so, but the victory was in excellent armor, and Jabbar, a Night Cultist, was not a strength-type player, and the wooden sword in his hand could not cause him fatal damage.

But as the battle progressed, the Night Cultist Jabbar slowly fell into madness, the night seemed to become a source of his strength, his figure gradually drifted erratically, his movements gradually became as fast as a ghost, the whole person continued to slash around Hisham, and the wooden sword hit the metal armor to make a "ping-pong" sound.

Baron Hisham soon ran out of breath and could not support himself, a strong armor did provide him with enough protection, but it also became a burden that quickly drained his physical strength, and he could no longer effectively block Jabbar's attack, so he could only spin in circles in vain, not even touching the tail of the Night Cultist.

"Alas!"

The young knights and private soldiers on the lookers all let out a secret sigh, and their eyes were full of disappointment when they looked at Hisham.

There is an unwritten unspoken rule in the mainland aristocratic circle, "A noble child can be illiterate and illiterate, but he must not practice martial arts." ”

The honor and status of the nobles have been snatched by force from generation to generation, there is force and everything, the problem of not knowing how to count is not a problem at all, the lord will not suffer when treating the commoners, two hundred and fifteen can be, three hundred and fifty fourteen can also be, anyway, I don't know how much I say, how much is how much.

But a nobleman must fight for the lord and must suppress his own people, which requires the support of force, so every nobleman must be trained in martial arts from an early age, and when he reaches adulthood, he will polish a strong and agile body.

"This damn Hisham is a shame on our Lorraine nobles!"

"He was only a distant nephew of the old baron, and when both of the old baron's sons died, it was his turn to inherit the title, the son of a foreman in the mines of Newcastle, who was considered a nobleman. ”

And Baron Hisham not only has sparse martial arts, but his physical strength is obviously not good, and even his courage is obviously lacking.

"Poof!"

Baron Hisham's legs pinned together and fell to the ground.

Jassim was distracted, and he picked up his wooden sword and was about to cut off Hisham's head, but he was smashed by a large piece of raw lamb flying in.

Charles took the snow-white handkerchief handed over by the butler Roy, wiped the non-existent grease on his hands, looked at Shasim and said coldly: "You should feel lucky, because this is not a cruel battlefield, and your back will not need to rely on your comrades and brothers, and your cowardice and incompetence will not implicate other comrades who are fighting bloodily." ”

"Now I give you two choices, either become a knight and earn the title of meritorious knight on the battlefield like your ancestors, or I will give you a manor and live the rest of your life without worrying about food and clothing. ”

Charles quietly looked at Hisham, who fell to the ground and couldn't get up, waiting for his answer, but he only waited for Hisham's aggrieved cry.

"Alas!"

All the onlookers were utterly disappointed because Hisham had made the wrong choice.

"Brut, you go and fight that Night Cultist, don't wear armor, be fair!"

"Okay master, I will not disgrace you!"

Charr's personal knight Brut immediately jumped out, and the seventeen-year-old boy looked childish, but there was a strong fighting spirit on his body.

Jabbar, the Night Cultist, had just gobbled down a piece of mutton when he saw a hairless boy leap over.

The battle just now allowed Abdul-Jabbar to regain his former dignity, he smashed his mouth, picked up the wooden sword and met it.

But this battle was completely different from the previous one, no matter how Abdul-Jabbar went around, the young Brut always caught him with ease. Keen perception, solid knightly combat skills, and incredible reaction speed all firmly suppressed Abdul-Jabbar.

"How do I feel that Brut is better than me......."

The humble young Neo Graft secretly contrasted with Brut, who was a lap younger than him, and finally felt as if he was not his opponent.

"Lord Lord, I'm not letting you see how powerful Brut is, but you're letting you see if that Night Cultist is powerful. The clever Passell Darnet stared at the two fighting figures and said lightly.

"That Night Cultist, it's not a big deal, I'm sure I'll be able to kill him!"

"Yes, Lord Lord, I just want us to know that the Night Cultists are not scary, but if you are cowardly, you will have nothing!"

A few minutes later, Brute, who was facing the Night Cultist for the first time, finally caught his opponent's flaw and slammed his sword into Abdul-Jabbar's shin to end the contest.

"Good!"

"Well done, Brutt!"

The hairless boy Brut proudly made a thank-you gift and enjoyed the first enthusiastic cheer in his life.

Charles walked up to Jabbar with a torch, and the Night Cultist slipped backwards in fright.

He had seen that terrifying power of light, and just a trace of it could bring him back into the arms of the god of the night, if he ate it directly......

"Ugh!"

Abdul-Jabbar burped.

With his stomach full, he didn't want to die at this moment.

The torch was attached to Abdul-Jabbar's chest, and because of Charles's obscuration, others could see the torch burning his body.

"Aren't you going to pretend to scream? Do you want to be real?"

Abdul-Jabbar was stunned and quickly howled desperately.

A strange soft egg is a strange soft egg, and it can't be changed for a lifetime.