"See, what did I find?"

"A damned, cowardly, honorless deserter!"

Contrary to Galio's imagination, those who had never drunk potions were as striking in the eyes of these distorted "werewolves" as the sun in the night.

Perhaps it was a regular drinker of the potion, or perhaps it was a gifted man, and the man behind him was very different from his deformed companions, with muscles as strong as if they could tear through their clothes, black hair, elongated jaws, bloody mouths, and minced meat hanging from their fangs.

Most likely, it is not the enemy's.

Because the enemy did not come to the city at all.

He's the City Guard's... Overseer Warband!

One looks like the product of a patchwork of every distorted limb of those "defective products", a real werewolf!

Finished!

I'm going to die!

Gario's mouth opened wide in horror, and he sat down on the ground, moving backwards.

But fear, at its extreme, sometimes turns into anger.

His chest couldn't help heaving, and his sobbing face looked distorted by the complete loss of expression management.

I just want to live, what's wrong with me?

I have no relatives, no friends, the upper class people who survive in this rich city, see us with disdain in the eyes like a dog, what does the prosperity and wealth of this city have to do with us?

What reason do I have to die for these people?

The intense anger made him clench the potion bladder in his hand.

He's going to fight hard.

The desperate efforts of a poor man at the bottom!

However.

Just listen to the bang.

A crossbow bolt burst the water bladder in his hand, spilling blood-red liquid everywhere.

On the side of the werewolves of the Overseer, a werewolf with a crossbow raised and an indifferent expression was winding the crossbow machine lightly.

A contemptuous smile appeared on the face of the werewolf of the Overseer, as if his resistance, his survival, was such a ridiculous thing - a civilian, a coward's desperate counterattack? It's just a joke.

"Ahh

He shouted, waving the weapon in his hand in disregard, even if it looked as weak as a mayfly shaking a tree.

The wind is howling.

The werewolf's broad palm popped out its sharp nails, splitting the inferior weapon he had distributed in two in a single stroke.

The gap is just too big.

He was just an ordinary civilian, and the weapons he used were inferior longswords that were loaned to him from the armory because he could not bring his own weapons; The other party is Lord Jabri's elite personal guard, and in addition to eating, drinking, and having fun every day, he is sharpening his combat skills.

Moreover, it is likely that the other party drank more potions than their cannon fodder soldiers, if that was indeed a potion.

Sharp claws tore through the air and thrust into his chest.

They were so close that he could even smell the fishy stench between each other's yellow teeth.

"I'm going to die."

Despair enveloped Galio's heart.

…

And yet in fact.

Not only did he not die.

Instead, it was the werewolf warlord who was arrogant a second ago.

Its huge, hideous wolf head had been slashed off by a long sword, and its bones rolled to his feet, squirting bloody blood all over his face.

Behind it was a Crusader knight.

He wore a white burqa with a black crosscoat of arms, and a winged helmet like a bull's horn, which obscured his entire face, and the burqa was bulging with iron armor underneath, and the whole person looked like a moving iron tower.

It's hard to imagine how he got to the city walls, and he jumped straight from the siege tower.

The knight looked at Galio with a face full of fear, and then at the corpse on the ground, and soon realized what was happening here, silently sighed "the dust of the times", and drew a cross on his chest.

He said, "Little one, continue to hide here, if you encounter the Crusaders, lay down your arms and surrender, they will not embarrass a soldier like you." ”

In Lothar's headquarters army, military discipline is still guaranteed.

Although he has no time and it is difficult to restrain all the Crusaders to act according to his standards, and even the raiding of the Crusader tribes often turns a blind eye, it does not mean that the same is true for the elite of his own army.

"Really, really?"

"I don't have to lie to you."

Wearing a horned helmet, he looked like a crusader knight who killed the gods of hell, but his voice was very gentle.

He doesn't speak Coptic badly either!

Galio sighed like this, got up in a hurry, and drew a cross on his chest in the same way as a knight: "Praise the Father, may the Father bless you, generous knight." ”

The knight waved his hand and disappeared from his sight.

Gario breathed a sigh of relief.

When he finally regained the courage to look outside, the walls were already strewn with corpses.

The knight with the horned helmet, already holding a terrifying two-handed sword, had reached the other end of the city wall, and a half-distorted werewolf tried to attack him, but was cut off by it in the blink of an eye.

He was full of excitement.

"Monsters, these crusaders, the Franks, and those werewolves, they're all a bunch of monsters!"

"This is a fight between monsters, and it does not belong to ordinary people like us!"

…

The gates of the city were opened.

The counterattack at the head of the city was gradually suppressed by Hans, who had killed him on the city wall, and the ironclad archers who condescendingly fired at him.

Thereupon.

A general offensive began.

The knights lined up in infantry formations, holding irises - a shield that was undoubtedly lighter and more agile than the square shields used by the veteran brigades, and the lower tip could be inserted into the ground to save effort.

The knights, lined up in formation, quickly rushed towards the city gate.

They used a variety of melee weapons in their hands, maces, armed swords, hand half-swords, tomahawks

There were also some Germanic knights, who completely abandoned their shields and relied on their own sturdy armor for defense, brandishing a two-handed greatsword, and rushed into the city to tear the enemy apart.

Even a half-distorted werewolf can have its neck cleaved by its powerful weapon.

But the battle inside the walls did not allow for the use of these long-pole weapons, short swords, even daggers, and even teeth - the soldiers guarding the gates did gain extraordinary power from potions.

But their foundation is there, no matter how strong they are, they can't get any stronger, but because they lost their minds, they were weakened by Lavinia, and they were inferior to the Crusader cavalry with multiple buffs in individual combat effectiveness.

The tide of battle soon shifted completely in favor of the Franks.

Several important places in the city were erected with bright crusader flags.

Veneto bit down on Jabri's shoulder, and the black werewolf on the opposite side was in pain, and kicked the cockroach-like tenacious werewolf into the air in anger, covering almost half of his shoulder, and his eyes almost looked like they were about to spark.

"Dare to be distracted by fighting with me?"

Veneto spat the blood and spat the piece of flesh that had been bitten off the black werewolf to the ground.

On the shoulders of the black werewolf, the flesh and blood were rapidly multiplying, and on the other hand, the scarred body surface of Veneto was also healing rapidly.

This guy is no match for himself at all!

Whether it is strength, speed, or defense, he has to throw out the "same kind" on the opposite side, but in terms of combat skills, he is too far behind!

Jabri wasn't a werewolf at all.

It's not that no one has seen him show the posture of a werewolf, but those who have seen him are basically dead.

The curse gave him enough power.

But there are too few opportunities for this strength exercise, and on the other hand, the werewolf on the other side of the Franks, seems to be born a werewolf, with tails, minions, arms, legs, everything that can be used as weapons.

What's even more terrifying is that the battle has continued until now, and the fierce confrontations have been fierce again and again, and the injuries that may be fatal to ordinary people are like stones sinking into the sea on the other side.

This guy is not only fine, but the more he fights, the more brave he gets, and the more he is injured, the stronger he gets!

And now, although he still has the upper hand, given enough time, and he is confident that he can take care of this hateful "kind", he has gradually lost the interest in fighting.

Because his soldiers are going to lose.

This group of waste, even if they drank his wolf blood and overdrew the rest of their lives in advance, still couldn't stop those Franks.

(End of chapter)