"Cut—aren't you dead?"

Inquisitor Greyfax took out a healing scroll and tore it open, a green glow covering the wound, although it could not be cured immediately, but at least it would not affect his sanity.

The Dwarven Butcher King's chest was blasted open with a terrifying bloody hole, covering half of his chest, and even fragments of ribs could be seen inserting indiscriminately between the flesh.

Normal humans have long since died from blood loss and pain from such injuries, but this terrible warrior is still standing.

"Come on! One more time!! ”

The dwarf roared, once again raised his heavy axe, ignoring the blood that flowed from the ground, and rushed towards his opponent in front of him.

"When ——!"

The battle between the two began again, but everyone knew that the dwarf, who was still an ordinary creature, was already fighting to the death, and it was impossible to fight for a long time, as long as the Inquisitor supported the final madness for a while, she was destined to win.

The great axe swung like a windmill, and the Inquisitor's sword kept struggling on the edge of shattering, like a tree fighting a storm.

"Glorious - death!!"

The Butcher King's whole body was stained red with the blood of the two, and the Judge of Greyfax was not much better, and the fight was getting more and more frenzied.

This pure death-seeking butcher has already hallucinated a lot from his near-death experience, but this can't stop him from his most glorious final battle.

The butcher, the most peculiar kind of warrior of the dwarves who love technology and ale, or rather, simply a way of life.

Dwarves place great importance on their own glory, and can remember their grudges deeply throughout their long lives, and vow revenge before forgetting and never forgiving.

If a dwarf commits a crime or a mistake, he will be in terrible pain and unable to extricate himself from it.

Suicide is not in accordance with the rules, absolutely not, and so the most eccentric butcher of the dwarves was born.

They were painted with war paints, naked and covered in intricate and mysterious war paints, and armed with the simplest and crudest battle axes.

They will fight every enemy they can find until they are killed, and they think that in this way their sins and their enmity against themselves will be washed away.

Only then can the butchers be like a normal dwarf, smiling at the land of bliss they imagined, where they can drink ale forever and boast to each other for eternity.

This is a bunch of crazy people, because what they are looking for is an honorable death in battle.

The Butcher King Grimnir, the most powerful butcher in Dührin in the Dwarf Continent, became a butcher because his daughter drowned and could not forgive himself for being greedy.

But he was too strong to die, and he killed countless goblin spirits and even demons on the battlefield, but he was never able to usher in his glorious death.

As a result of his exploits, this warrior eventually became one of the dwarven kings, and his servants called him the Butcher King.

In fact, Grimnir himself thinks this is ridiculous, after all, a butcher who can't get rid of his sins is really ridiculous to be a king.

So one day, the warrior gave everything to the king of the dwarven kings, the High King Sogrem the Bitter, and alone carried his battle axe and set out on the path of death and glorious redemption.

When the flintlock powder gun was pressed against his chest, the powerful dwarf had probably guessed that his time had come, and he was excited and angry.

What he longed for was the glory of swords piercing himself and finally killing him, rather than dying on such a strange weapon.

So he didn't allow himself to die, and the blow that ended the butcher's life had to be put against his body with a sharp blade or a blunt object.

"Come on, hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

The badly wounded dwarf laughed wildly, shouting at the stride of the battle, forcing Grevix to retreat and defend.

"We—from the mountains—"

With the swing of the battle axe, the dwarves sang the war songs of the Dhurin dwarven kingdoms, melodious and infectious, so that even the fighting warriors could imagine the chaotic taverns in the noisy dwarven fortress for a moment.

"We—sweeping away the gloom of civilization—descending from heaven with light—"

Gradually, Inquisitor Greyfax stopped retreating, and there was no need for it.

The dwarf's pace began to slow down, his heavy axe no longer wielding his arms at command, his breathing heavy, but he was still fighting.

"We-we-are-ahem!!"

Blood poured out of her mouth as soon as she spoke, but the tomahawk still split the Inquisitor's right arm, forcing her to use another emergency tumble using a healing scroll, the last healing scroll of the Inquisitor of Greyfax.

Eventually, the dwarf could no longer move forward, and Grimnir's tomahawk dug into the sand, barely holding himself up.

"Come on, I'm ready."

At this time, he finally gained peace, he had seen the inquisitor walking slowly with a sword, but the inquisitor did not see his heartfelt smile for the first time in decades.

"I'm sorry, honorable enemy."

Grayfax's voice was gentle, and he raised the sword in his hand.

"Ahem!!"

The dwarf struggled, raised his tomahawk in both hands again, looked at the man in front of him, and laughed out loud.

"Hahahahaha!!haha

One step, two steps, the dwarf began to retreat, as calm and frenzied as Spartacus about to start a gladiatorial fight, but he was happy.

"This is war, boy, I'm glad you can bring me redemption."

Speechless, the Inquisitor had never judged a dwarf, but she had a personal reverence for the warrior's spirit.

So she decided to respect his wishes, and Greyfax was going to give a painful and long death to his powerful opponent with the poison needle hidden in his sleeve.

But now she's changed her mind.

"The time has come!"

With a soft shout, the dexterous figure held the sword in both hands, stabbing out like a swimming dragon, wrapped in the determination to kill with one blow.

"Hahaha! Long live Durin, for the glory of Eternal Peak!! ”

The two figures collided with each other, then separated, and everything came too fast.

A wound that had crept from the judge's right shoulder to his chest was visible to the bone. But after a few shakes, this monster-like person supported by a strong will still stood still and slowly turned back.

The dwarf slowly raised his hands as if to hug something, and then, blood oozing from his neck, he finally slowly collapsed.

Grimnir, the King of the Butchers, ended his 130-year career as a butcher and was finally redeemed as a sinless dwarf.