A suitable warhammer can definitely greatly increase her combat power, and she reached into the half-human-tall rectangular box with mysterious power without pretentiousness, and pulled out a hideous warhammer.

It was originally a barbarian, or chaos-style, long-handled warhammer. On the handle of the hardwood, which was 1.20 meters long, was a black iron hammer head full of meniscus barbs and mace-like spikes.

Falling into Francis's hand, the hammer immediately bloomed into a soft streamer that was not eye-catching. The entire warhammer began to deform at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The wooden handle began to become threaded, which allowed the user to grip the hammer better.

The hammer head is no longer so hideous, but on the rectangular hammer head, there is a prismatic convex surface engraved with the runes of the god of light Sigma in each of the four directions, and the striking surface directly in front of it is a conical bulge as a whole, which gives this hammer a violent beauty.

Franise gently stroked the head of the hammer with her left hand: "It turned out to be the Holy Light Warhammer that Sigma personally blessed and can only be used by the priests of the local bishop level...... I'm beginning to believe that the great god Sigma is watching over me, too. ”

Just left a word, she immediately turned her head back to the high slope where she had just been sentry, bent her waist, and continued to be vigilant.

This allowed Martin to concentrate more on looting.

The bloody competition under the supervision of the gods fully accepted Martin's original opinion. Don't think about what space bag unlimited weight holds.

If you can't stuff something into your backpack, you can carry more, provided you can carry it.

At this point, orcs, barbarians, chaos warriors, etc., the innate racial talent wins.

There is no such thing as absolute fairness, and Martin has nothing to say. It's just that his weight-bearing capacity is extremely limited because of his thin body, so he calculated that he would carry 20 pounds of things on his back at most to fight, and if he had more, he would have to take a break from cooking.

He secretly swore in his heart that he would work hard to train his physical fitness after he went back.

Now he can only find his own equipment and supplies.

The cumulative amount of supplies is:

Three bottles of Sigma No. 3 holy water. To detoxify the disease, you deserve it.

Eleven bandages of holy light.

Five parts of Holy Light healing ointment. The rhizome of the Moonglow Grass, a selected sacred plant, is ground and refined, and has a better recovery ability than the Holy Light Bandage. For sharp wounds, it has the effects of astringent wounds, hemostasis, and rapid wound healing.

Three scrolls of hymn blessings. Hold it in your hand, and once you pronounce the name of Sigmar, you will be blessed with divine blessings, ensuring that even the old cold leg will be cured within 10 minutes, and you will run as fast as a chicken.

Five mid-tier alchemy bombs. The previous ones were all finished when they fell into the water, but this one is better, and it could theoretically blow up the greenskins.

The supplies are easy to deal with, just take them all.

The problem is in weapons.

Francis's primary weapon is solved, and it doesn't matter if the secondary weapon is a short sword.

Martin only had a Quick Slash Blade at hand, but no bow or crossbow.

Both of the Blood's weapons were cursed daggers, an ominous thing that Martin felt his scalp tingle just by picking it up. Martin casually asked Francis.

"Not everyone can use a cursed weapon. First, the user must be mentally strong, and secondly, he must have some kind of special experience or bloodline that is recognized by the cursed weapon. Franise replied.

These two short swords have reached [Excellent] quality, and it is impossible to convert the standard, no, it should be said that they can be converted, but the special effect of [Curse] will be removed.

It's just chicken ribs.

The remaining primary weapon is a spear-based weapon similar to a hook and sickle, and even if it is converted, it is probably a spear or something. Martin won't use it at all.

Just as Martin was worried, Francis's voice suddenly rang out in his ears: "Who!?

This question surprised Martin as well, and he quickly pulled out the [Quick Slash Blade] and looked in the direction that Francis was looking at.

"Wait! I have no intention of attacking fellow human contestants!" a slightly immature male voice came from not far away.

Hey?

How do you seem to have heard this sound somewhere?

Martin suddenly came to his senses and tentatively shouted in that direction, "Gal!?"

There was an immediate reaction from the other side, and a surprised voice came back.

"Young master!?Is it you?"

Martin strode forward, and sure enough, a familiar thin figure jumped out of the grass.

"Young master, I knew you weren't so easy to die!"

"Gal, I knew you would follow. ”

The two masters and servants hugged each other shoulder to shoulder, and at the sight of this scene, Francis breathed a sigh of relief and put down the long-handled warhammer.

Previously, as a reward for Martin for such a bloody competitive match. The gods gave Martin the perk of allowing the lowly Martin to summon one of his servants into the arena.

This is conditional: first of all, Martin's servants are to come in voluntarily and not to be compulsory. The second is that the servant must meet the maggot-level strength range, and it is not possible to be too weak or too strong. And then Martin's servants don't get together with Martin in the first place, and it's another thing to get together like they are now. In the end, Martin can only say one name, and once that person does not meet any of the above requirements, then the benefit is canceled.

Martin is actually gambling, too. He probably realized that Sylvie should be beyond the maggot level, so he pressed the treasure on Gal.

Looking at the current Gal, Martin also sighed that he was not wrong.

Gal looked a little embarrassed, half of his clothes were torn, and he was dressed like a barbarian, and the only piece of linen that was left was half wrapped around his body under the right shoulder armor.

He was holding a wooden gun, which at first glance was of the worst kind. You can see the gaps left over from the chopping of several large sharp weapons on the bad barrel, and I don't know when the barrel will break. The head of the spear is not good, it is made of garbage bronze, it is estimated that it will be pierced with a plate armor, and if it can't be pierced, it will have to cut off the head of the spear itself.

Martin also noticed that Gal was barefoot and had several blood blisters punctured on his foot.

I really don't know how Gal got to this point.

A little innocent, Gard ran up to Francis and saluted: "Young master, you haven't encountered any enemies, have you? This place is so terrible, I killed two orcs to meet you." This knight lady, thank you for protecting the young master. If it weren't for you, maybe the young master ......"

At this time, the female knight had a strange look on her face: "Your name is Gal, right? Don't you know that your master's nickname is Jin Shining?"

Gal was stunned as if he had been struck by thunder. Of course, he knew that his boss could fight. Troll killers aren't for nothing. But Martin's usual swordsmanship, horsemanship, and spearmanship are all ordinary, which always makes it difficult for the people below to equate him with those supreme powerhouses.