"The temptation has also been tried......" Fitzel scratched his hair in annoyance and inhaled lightly, "There are a little more of those black-skinned bitches, and it will be a bit troublesome to fight, and if you really fight, it may cost a little more." ”

Marcus's eyes couldn't help but glance at Fetzel's armor, in the previous battle, this old mercenary had single-handedly blocked the three drow elves, and although he was still unable to defeat them in the end, he was able to retreat with his whole body, except for some damage to the light armor on his body, there were no scars on his body.

Maybe his combat effectiveness is not very strong, but in terms of survivability, he can't compare to him, and he is worthy of being an old mercenary.

After a while, Marcus suddenly asked suspiciously, "Spend a little more money?"

The corners of Fetzer's mouth hooked, and he sneered: "Yes, the transcendents are very strong, but as long as the muskets are set in a wave, as long as one bullet can hit them, they can hit the second one, and now these muskets we have can kill the transcendental, not to mention the 'repeating muskets' on the dwarf's side! As long as the bullets are piled up, no matter how many transcendents come, they will have to die, how many shots can they dodge, but can they dodge dozens of shots?"

Hearing this, Marcus' mouth was wide open, not knowing what to say.

He was a transcendent himself, and he was the only one in the army attacking 'Balion', and in his opinion, it would be difficult to take down that town.

If you really want to defeat those drow elves, you need to send a few more transcendents to support you.

In his impression, the battle is a hard encounter, and he did not imagine the emergence of other factors.

Seeing that his mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something, Fetzel sneered and asked, "Brother Marcus, let me ask you, do you need to be upright when dealing with those drow elves?"

The words echoed in Marcus's head for a moment, and he understood it all at once.

Yes, they don't need to be moral about the drows, and the musket is a weapon, and although he doesn't like to use it, he doesn't care if he can win the war.

By the time he figured it out, he began to regret that they didn't have a repeating musket in their hands.

The Repeating Musket is a creation of Dwarves and Gnomes, and is generally not sold to the public, and it is quite a hassle to craft, with only a few Dwarven clans having the technology to craft Repeating Muskets.

The regret only lasted for a while, and Marcus soon began to think that if the musket was used in the upcoming war, there were very few soldiers on their side who knew how to use the musket, and even if the musket was distributed, they might not be able to hit it.

If only I could train before that!

Thinking like this, Marcus shook his head and lamented, now they don't have many muskets and bullets in their hands, although this kind of weapon is also a standing armament, but he is unwilling to use them, so until now, there are not many soldiers in the army who know how to use muskets.

"Brother Marcus, I know what you're worried about. Fitzel smiled and patted Marcus on the shoulder and comforted, "There are quite a few soldiers on my side who can use muskets, so you don't have to worry that no one will use muskets." Don't worry, if nothing else, we will win this war!"

Marcus's mouth opened slightly, and he always felt that Fetzer's words were a little too full, but on second thought, it seemed that this was indeed the case.

Although the drow elves have more transcendents than them, they also have muskets in their hands, weapons that allow mortals to challenge the transcendents!

If nothing else, they won the war.

............

If nothing else, they won the war......

At the moment when the war horse's head exploded, Fetzel reacted instantly, and rolled directly from the horse's back to the ground, even if the war horse's limbs were still mechanically driving the headless body to run before, he couldn't care so much.

His body fell to the ground, and Fetzel's face twisted suddenly, he knew that his left arm must be broken, but how could he manage so much!

"Retreat! Retreat!" he rolled from side to side on the ground, avoiding the footsteps of the soldiers who charged with him, and he shouted at the top of his voice.

But before his soldiers could react, the heads of several people suddenly burst open, and brains and blood spilled all over the faces of the soldiers next to them.

This made them stunned, and they couldn't even react for a while.

Fitzel gritted his teeth and got up, crouched on the ground, and shouted, "Marcus, get out of the way!"

After hearing Fetzel's voice, Marcus, who was still charging, trembled, his pupils suddenly dilated, and he pulled the reins with force.

The horse below him raised its two front hooves and kicked and kicked in the air, neighing as hard as it could.

"Retreat!!!" Marcus turned around and shouted to his troops, fortunately well-trained, and when he heard his voice, the panicked soldier turned around and ran away in surprise as if he had been amnestied.

At this point, the horse's head finally turned, but a bullet slashed through Marcus's cheek, and even though he tried to dodge, the bullet pierced the mask and tore off half of his face.

Blood gushed from the wound, causing Marcus to raise his eyebrows.

Almost, just a little, his head is gone!

Marcus, whose face quickly became gloomy, pulled out the spur and stabbed it hard into the horse's buttocks, gritting his teeth at the face hidden behind the mask, and there was madness in his eyes.

Baryon's guns rang out far more than the Drow Elves had, so Fetzel was able to tell that the weapons in their hands were the 'rarely sold' muskets in the hands of the dwarves.

"Grass, grass, grass!"

Under the cover of the corpse, the ugly-faced Fetzel ran towards the camp with all his might.

But in order to avoid the bullets, he had to crouch on the ground, so that he could not flee as fast as the soldiers who turned around and ran.

Even at times like these, he could still hear the rampant laughter of the black-skinned bitches.

The drow elves were pulling the trigger with impunity, and gun after shot rang out, and the continuous gunfire was like a high-pitched music, using blood and death to render the melody beautiful and moving.

Fetzel's heart was pounding, and his nose was about to tilt when he looked at the soldiers who were full of fear and threw down their weapons and fled.

If they still had guns in their hands, they could at least hide and shoot to cover the escape of others and themselves, but they just threw away their weapons, what a bunch of rubbish!

From time to time, Fetzel would look back to see the cover behind him, then adjust his escape route appropriately, and see if any pursuers were catching up—he didn't want to be unaware of the drow's head cut off.

Bang!

After a gunshot, Marcus's left leg burst into a cloud of blood, but that wasn't the worst of it, and at the same time, his horse also broke one of its hind legs.

Wow!

The horse let out a wail, and its heavy, massive body fell to the ground, and the remaining legs were broken.

"!" Marcus couldn't help but burst out with red eyes, struggling to pull his left leg out from under his horse, and looked in the direction of the camp, his heart suddenly filled with anger and despair.

His left leg was completely broken, but the camp was still so far away from him, before he rushed to the front of the line, and when it came time to retreat, he was naturally the last.

Panting, he lay on his side on the ground, pulled back his mask, and looked up at the sky blankly, despite the bloodied half of his face.

He's going to die......

Boom!

At that moment, a shield flew over him and stuck beside him, and before Marcus could react, a shadow enveloped his body.

He was shocked, and suddenly looked up, only to see an ugly face with one eye.

Fitzel gritted his teeth and dragged Marcus's body, holding a huge shield in his other hand, and ran back to camp in the rain of bullets that gradually thinned out.

He had already calculated that there was definitely not much ammunition in the hands of those black-skinned bitches, and after the pouring out just now, there should not be many bullets in their hands, and he also noticed that they were not changing rounds at all, but whoever finished fighting, so that there would be gaps in their barrage.

He had to go and get Marcus back, or who would help him get his guilt?