Razor-sharp double-edged battle axes, superb combat skills, unparalleled strength and passion.

One by one, the fleeing Dark Swamp monsters fell under the knife of the dwarven butcher, who was less than half their height.

Bogur roared, his tomahawk slicing open the ankle of a low-level swamp monster, and another whirled in and slashed into its other paw. Scarlet blood splattered on the dwarven butcher's face, giving him great satisfaction.

With a grunting gasp, Bogur pulled out his battle axe and brutally split open the swamp monster's abdomen, blood and intestines flowing down the terrible wound. Amid screams of pain, Bogur took aim for his next target.

Butchers, the outliers of the dwarves, are skilled and enthusiastic. They wander the forests and mountains, searching for every worthy opponent in order to die a glorious death in bloodthirsty battles. It can be said that the dwarven butcher is a killing machine, they are fighting all the time, looking for their opponents.

On the battlefield, these dwarfs usually do not wear heavy armor, but go into battle bare-armed, using the best weapons in order to kill their opponents in battle. They are bloodthirsty beasts that can't stop once they get into a fight, and they will slash their enemies to pieces with their axes until they can't even resurrect them with necromancy.

They are butchers who seek death in battle to wash away their past shame.

Every butcher has its own story to tell. They were probably ordinary people before they became butchers, and like all dwarves, they spent their days bragging about cowhides and drinking fine wine. Kill enemies on the battlefield, dig for treasure in the mines, or something. Usually, it is because of some heavy blow that you can't get out of it, so you embark on the bloody path of the dwarven butcher.

Butchers don't care what the rules are, they are not bound by anything, they may have been unremarkable in the first half of their lives, but once they become butchers, they put all their energy and enthusiasm into battle, and they are constantly running, running around the world, looking for the most powerful opponents. Being able to die a glorious battle is the greatest wish of every dwarven butcher.

Bogur is one of them. Born in Dulong City, he is one of the members of the Dulong City Expedition Team, and as a former Ranger, he has repeatedly helped his teammates explore unknown maps and areas with his Ranger abilities, as well as scout for information. He is an important member of the Dulong City expedition team.

However, during an expedition to the Troll Mountains, he and his companions encounter the Troll King Solonga, who kills all of his companions and severely injures him with his incomparably powerful prowes.

The dying Bogur hid in his cave and waited for death. However, death did not come to him. After surviving the cave for a week, he was rescued by a later dwarven expedition, but confronting the Troll King became a nightmare for him, and he could not forget his companions, believing that it was a great shame that he did not die with them.

A month later, after returning from injury, he resolutely gave up the Ranger and became a dwarven butcher. He sold his beloved crossbow and all his assets in Dulong City to the Craftsman's Guild to create two double-edged battle axes. With these two weapons in hand, Bogur embarked on the path of no return for the butcher......

He wanders between the city of Dulong and the Troll Mountains, and travels south to hunt his prey.

A bunch of swamp monsters can't stand the butcher's frenzied slaughter and flee for their lives, however, Bogur will not easily give up the glory in his hands. He pulled the tomahawk from the back of a fallen swamp monster and threw it with all his might.

The sharp double-edged battle axe swirled wildly in the air, and after a moment's whistling, it smashed into the body of a swamp monster, and blood spurted out of its body, and the fallen swamp monster only struggled for a few seconds before completely losing its vitality. Its body is like mud soaked in water for a day and a night, and it quickly decays.

When Rhodes arrived with the army, the Dwarven Butcher was sitting on the head of a dead swamp monster, wiping his beloved tomahawk, a huge double-edged tomahawk with a small amount of blood and broken entrails.

The Norscans behind Rhodes were shocked by the scene in front of him, only to see at least six or seven corpses of swamp demons lying on the muddy forest ground. This dark creature with strong brute strength and astonishing size is very powerful, and even a trained regular army soldier needs three people to work together to barely survive. However, this dwarf slaughtered at least six swamp monsters with the power of one person. What kind of combat power is this, Rod already has a bottom in his heart.

He could at least be worthy of a Minotaur Lord...... This was the first impression Rod gave in his mind, and it was also the initial assessment.

"Human, tell me, how did you end up here?"

A deep voice came from the depths of the butcher's throat, and his orange-red hair, shaped by Kill Matt, fluttered in the wind, like a certain cockscomb, and stood out. He was covered in various tattoos, and his bulging muscles were stained with the disgusting blood of the swamp monsters, which was an outlier among the dwarves, but the Norskas could tell that he was a dwarven butcher.

At the same time, the dwarves also saw that the humans who hunted the swamp monsters were actually Norscans. The dwarves do not have a good impression of the Norscans, who have been a symbol of darkness and evil since they worshipped the four gods of Chaos. Therefore, when the two met, Rod vaguely felt the smell of gunpowder in the air.

"I'm asking you, a dwarf, what are you doing in the dark forest?

Celta returned contemptuously.

It could be seen that both of them had not looked good, and the dwarven butcher stood up from the dead body, his battle axe had been almost wiped down. At special angles, it can even reflect dazzling light spots. And Celta put his hand on his weapon. If it weren't for the fact that they had hunted and killed this group of swamp monsters together just now, I'm afraid they would have already started when they met now.

"To put it mildly, Norscans, don't think that because there are too many of you, I'm going to run away. On the contrary, if one more contemptuous word comes out of your mouth, my axe will chop off your head to make a flask. ”

Bogur approached, his red beard almost up to his navel. In the world of dwarves, the beard is a symbol of status and dignity.

Celta was about to pull out his tomahawk when Rhodes stepped in to stop the pointless conversation.

"We are from Kislev, Fort Blackhammer. Thank you for taking down the swamp monsters for us. I am Lord of Blackhammer, Rhodes Lawn. ”

Rod walked over, took off his gloves, and stretched out his right hands, which were also bloodied.