Glenn had always felt that he had some mysterious bloodline that he didn't know about, like, well, the god of doom or something, and the more he didn't want to encounter something, the more it would appear in front of him.

Not so long ago, when he encountered a half-demon in an abandoned lair of a lich, then a mage of the Thieves' Guild, a dragon warlock, and a grey robe just a stone's throw away from the lich, he had a deep doubt that he would ever encounter some of the more frightening enemies in the future. For example, a dragon.

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There were no less than a hundred black-footed halflings escaping from the swamp, but less than ten of those hundred were able to describe more clearly what they had encountered—the others either ran away as fast as they could, with their round, wet eyes (as long as they could), or squeaked endlessly like a mole who had drunk too much ale, and even the less than ten black-footed hairy little ones could not give any more valuable information. Yes, they remembered the unprecedented calamity that had befallen their family, a great and vicious force that was forcing them away, most of the black-footed halflings fled without even taking their favorite crockpots, and though a few of the most stubborn ones remained, they were then eaten, trampled, and crushed to death by monsters emerging from the swamps and reeds.

"What kind of monsters are they?" asked Kerryben.

"Big chicken. "The black-footed halfling, who was braver and more powerful than his kind, insisted on escaping with his two crockpots, and still saw something.

"Gnome bipedals. The druid translator said.

"The Great Serpent. ”

"Anacondas. ”

"A lizard with long scales. ”

"Swamp crocodile. ”

In addition to these, piecing together fragmentary descriptions of black-footed halflings, they also found traces of multi-legged toads and giant spotted eels. Lyped toads will occasionally crouch on the reeds, but giant eels will hardly come to the surface of the swamp if it weren't for magic or excessive hunger. And the pygmy bipeds encountered by the Black-footed Halflings were more like they were frightened by something, and they passed through the reed houses of the Black-footed Halflings in the thousands, or jumped over them, except for a few unfortunate halflings who were scratched and bitten because they were not quick to react, and there were far more anacondas and swamp crocodiles than they should be.

Baldwin's appearance was not good-looking, he was a hunter, and before he entered the army of Thundercastle, he worked for the lord of the land, Don Clay the Elder, and had to pay three chests of rabbit, fox, and wolf skins every year, as well as twenty silver coins. Compared to the other lords, Old Donclay was merciful and forgiving, but Baldwin still had to run around the jungle day and night for months on end, otherwise he would not even be able to prepare his own food and clothing, and this situation became more serious after he decided to marry Penny, so he decided to join the army and use his bow and arrows for more profit- So he had heard of it from his own father (who was also a hunter of Old Don Clay), and had seen it himself, that the animals in the jungle had suddenly gone mad, and that the predators did not kill each other, and that they were no longer afraid of the swords and bows of men, but ran out desperately, so that if it were not for fire, The only possibility of water or ground shaking is the presence of terrible and cruel monsters in this territory, and before the age of fifteen he had participated in a battle between hundreds of men against a pack of winter wolves, the brutality of which had faded since he became lord of Thundercastle, and now those bloody scenes had reappeared before his eyes.

"What are we going to face?" Gülen muttered in a low voice.

That's what Baldwin wants to know.

They had discussed whether or not to change their itinerary, but if it was almost impossible to get around the snowy swamps, and if it was the enemy, would they give up chasing them because they had changed their itinerary?

Gülen only jokingly suggested that it could be a terrible dragon, but even he didn't believe it himself - everyone knew that dragons, good and evil, had almost all left the plane that no longer seemed attractive to them, and that metallic, gem, and colored dragons had ceased to be in the human eye a thousand years ago. The exception, of course, is Grenada's Red Dragon, which is said to be the offspring of an old female Red Dragon, perhaps because she established ties to the country and stayed with it while the other dragons left. But the Red Dragons don't like clammy swamps, and the price it takes to hire a dragon may not even be affordable even for the new Norman King of the Highlands, let alone a Thieves' Guild, even if they have the shadow of Grenada behind them, the Red Dragons will not be discounted, can they still bury the entire guild in this one mission?

When the adventurers take their final rests in a village that has been abandoned not long ago, a group of goblins are happily throwing a feast - they have also been driven here by unknown creatures, compared to these bad things, but the black-footed halflings who catch fish and frogs from the lord's rivers and swamps, and the peasants' fields are too sweet - Not only did the goblins take out all the food and wine left behind by the villagers after they fled in a panic, but they also killed their livestock, burned their furniture and doors, and the most intolerable thing for the adventurers was that they actually grabbed an old man who might not have been able to escape because of old age, stripped him naked, and put him on the charcoal fire to roast him, and while the old man screamed miserably, the goblins beat the crockpots and water basins they had stolen from the house.

The elves' arrows instantly reduced the number of goblins to two-thirds, and Leona and Berdwin jumped directly into the goblins, their broadswords and hammers as terrible as thunder to the goblins, but just as the goblin with the broken iron sword and ill-fitting leather armor screamed, "There are only six of them!" The goblins returned their courage as they shouted and waved their weapons—the peasants' rakes, flails (the kind they really used to beat ears of wheat), Forks and sticks, rushing forward, trying to overcome quality with quantity.

Glenn kicked a goblin into the charcoal pyre with a single kick, and as it cried to get up, the thief stepped heavily on it, and in the chirping of the charcoal fire and the curses and wails of the goblin, he swung his dagger, cut the leather cord that bound the old man, and lifted him out of the coal-fire, the old man was so thin and effortless, he had no strength to struggle and cry, and his neck hung limply downward, from neck to ankle, and there was no place where the skin was still the original color, like the buttocks, Knife cuts can be seen on the legs and chest, where there may still be some flesh, and the flesh inside is oozing with blood, and it must have been partially eaten by the goblins.

He trembled faintly as the thief put him down, "This must have hurt." Glenn whispered, and then he lowered his knees and looked into the old man's eyes, making sure that he could see his dagger, and the goblin had left only one eye for the old man, and the only eye had been burned red by the charcoal fire, as if it had been quenched with blood, but there was no fear, no hatred, only longing and gratitude.

Gülen slit the old man's neck with a single knife.

"Gülen!" shouted Berdwin, who happened to see the scene, angrily.

The thief glanced at him, waved his dagger without looking back, and then sliced a goblin open from top to bottom. Of course, he knew that they still had healing scrolls, and that the mages might have memorized healing spells, and elven potions, but the old man's injuries would have to be recovered with about half of their reserves, and they were already on the edge of the snow-covered swamp, and without other supplies, they were about to face one, several, or even more enemies and monsters - and even if they kept the old man alive, would they still be able to take him on a dangerous journey? The goblins had completely destroyed the village, leaving no food or clean water, and the nearest village was a hundred miles away, and the path was full of wild beasts and even more terrifying monsters, and even if they had walked for three whole days and nights, how long could the frail old man walk? Who would want to take him in? If he had, he would not have been left behind.

But Glenn knew that if he let the old man continue to live, he was afraid that most of the people in the team or the elves would not be able to sit back and watch him die, this was their bottom line and principle, he knew.

So that's what he's supposed to do.

The goblins soon discovered that sometimes numbers could not lead to victory, and they tried to escape, but the black-haired caster immediately sensed their intentions and raised their hands to cast a raging wall of flames, several goblins rushed straight into the wall of fire, turning into shrinking charred black flesh in the flames, and more goblins rolled on the ground, rubbing their bodies in the hope of extinguishing the flames on their bodies.

And by this time, the others had already caught up.

To their surprise, the dwarf McGee was the first, wearing fine Mithril chain mail, and adamantite coins in places that needed to be protected, jingling all over his body, with a crossbow hanging from his waist, a pointed hammer in his hand, and lizardskin boots, which needs to be specifically mentioned here, because the dwarf jumped on the biggest goblin without hesitation, and hit its weak belly- McGee jumped like the girls who danced the minuet until she crushed the goblin's belly through the upper and lower openings.

Berdwin was going to stop him first, but then he withdrew his hand when he heard McGee muttering loudly, because the gnome was shouting, "Seven, seven, it's seven, not six!"

As he walked back to his companion, Glenn was pulling one out of a pile of burning thorns and throwing it at the old man, and without thinking Birdwin drew his broadsword and struck it hard, and the burning branch was slammed into the air, and the thief jerked back and held down his right hand, and the spark burned several holes in his coat.

"At least you should give him a grave. The former paladin suppressed his anger and voice, "Although no one here will judge you, you don't have to be so anxious to destroy the evidence. ”

"He was going to die!"

"Not dead yet!"

"You ought to thank me, Baldwin," said the thief sharply, "or you would have felt deep remorse every late night for the sake of such an important opportunity for a stranger who might not have survived three days even if he had been healed—and you might never have received such an expensive gift again." ”

"Or do you want to show your hypocrisy?" said the thief, with an abominable smile, "Let him, let an old man who is weak, helpless, with no money or food, be left alone here and waiting to die?"

Leona took a deep breath, no one she knew Birdwin better, maybe it wasn't the thief's intention, but his words were right, even if Birdwin didn't say anything, she had to thank Glenn, as a princess, she knew what sacrifice and abandonment were, not to mention that she also had ambitions that the rest of the team might not have, and she loved Berdwin and didn't want him to be in a dilemma - if Gülen hadn't done it, she would have looked for an opportunity.

"It may not be the old man's wish, not everyone has the fortitude to choose to live strong after so much torture," Leona said, gently placing her hands on Baldwin's shoulders, "Baldwin, if you will—maybe we can give him a grave." ”

"Looks like we're going to have to find out if we have a shovel. Gülen crossed his arms and said, "And these goblins, maybe we should form a circle and have a prayer meeting or something?"

"Gülen. The black-haired spellcaster said.

Glenn immediately lowered his arm, lowered his eyes slightly, and stood deferentially behind the caster—the spirit of the other world looked at the place where the old man's body was, and made a gesture, and the earth beneath the charred flesh swelled and trembled, like a gushing fountain of earth, burying the old man in an instant.

The druid plunged a thorn into the dirt that had not been touched by the flames, spurring it to harden its dense roots and spiky foliage to protect the old man's body from being dug up and eaten by wolves or other wild beasts.

The thief standing behind the caster breathed a sigh of relief.

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It was a beautiful woman that people had never seen before.

Her long, curly hair fluttered in the wind, revealing her unblemished white skin and delicate features, and she was wrapped in only a silk robe, the hem of which was broken, and her feet were barefoot, but where she passed even the driest mud there were tiny flowers, and her eyes glittered in the sun like jewels, the turquoise blue of the lake, the emerald green of the forest, and the spots of gold.

Not only mortals, but even the white-robed people who were busy purifying and destroying the remnants of the gray robe could barely control their feet, and they walked towards her, looking up at her with admiration, kneeling down to her, and even prostrate on the ground, kissing the nameless little flowers.

A priest of Rosada had inadvertently put his hand on his heart, perhaps just to dedicate his heart to the goddess, but the emblem pinned to his chest suddenly burned his hand fiercely, dragging him out of his beautiful dream, and he suddenly came to his senses, and raised his hand to cast a magic spell to ward off evil.

But his hand was immediately grasped tightly by another person, and he looked back to see that it was his mentor, the senior pastor here.

The senior pastor of Rosada let go of his disciple's hand, pressed his hand on his shoulder, and bowed deeply to the woman.

With silver flames flowing from her eyes, she belonged to a god. (To be continued.) )