Coop's hand was attached to the door, a flattened wooden strip, loosely stuck on the wooden buckle, such a door presumably only served to remind the owner when it was easily broken, symbolically indicating that it was not allowed to enter.

In other words, there is no such thing as holding on to the door, because this door has nothing to do with the word "strong".

It was as if the feet had just been fished out of the water, and they had been blowing in the winter sea breeze all day, hanging on solid ice, and it was so heavy that every step was embarrassing. The little time of procrastination is not enough to come up with a better way, and it is only a matter of time before the door opens, and it is nothing more than active and passive.

The urging of a middle-aged female voice came from outside the door, and it didn't sound like a person who had experience in disguising his emotions. Even if she tried to act like she was just coming back to get some firewood, the urgency seemed unnatural from the preconceived perspective of Coop's nervous state.

But if you really want to talk about it, it's not "normal" to disturb in the middle of the night just to get some firewood?

He stood against the wall, out of range of the door panel, making sure he wouldn't be hit by a thrust from the outside, and reached out to pull the deadbolt away, "Please come in." ”

Deliberately leaning the deadbolt against the wall, knocking out enough sounds for outsiders to hear.

The outsider moved, and it was the sound of the soles of his straw shoes scraping against the dust, which made him feel a little reassured, at least he couldn't think of anything inhuman that would obediently put on a woven artifact and make a response.

The landlady did not answer, and if she was standing in front of the door, she should have pushed it at once, instead of moving a few more steps.

"What's wrong?" Fingers touched the doorknob and opened a gap inside, enough for the lights in the house to form a clear line of light at the door, releasing a signal that "there is no defense here".

Effect...... It's remarkable.

Almost at the same time, the sound of heavy footsteps, which was very different from before, approached quickly in a few steps, and it was a man of no light weight.

[He's running]

You don't have to think about it, and when you think about it, your hand retracts like a tingle.

In the next moment, the door clattered open, and a figure crashed into the room.

The jacket, which was not much better than the hole bag, showed shoulders that still maintained a bumping posture, and under the dirt and dirt was a rough and wrinkled native face, and the hideous expression deeply penetrated the lines into his face, as ravaged as the mine axe in his hand.

In his imagination, there should be an unprepared victim standing behind the door, about to be slapped on the head and bleeding, so he used his best strength.

However, the collision only pushed open the unsupported door, and the inertia caused him to lose his balance, and he threw himself head-heavy, his expression changing from hideous to weightless bewilderment, and the whole person smashed on the gravel floor.

The small edges and corners on the ground corroded the epidermis, and the blood and sand stimulated the exposed wounds, and the man turned over and cried out in pain to touch the pickaxe in his hand.

In response to him was a falling page hammer.

Following what he had learned in training, Koop picked up the page hammer and slammed it down on the man who hadn't shaken his head on the ground. There was no time to hesitate in the urgency, he only knew that it was a signal, like the order given by Kraft, forming a conditioned reflex in repetition, and quickly counterattacking after knowing where the enemy was.

Knocking on the door in the middle of the night with a pickaxe, it can't be that you're here to knock on stones, right?

Unconsciously using more force than usual in his fright, Koop felt that it was not his own control of the weapon at this moment, but the metal hammer body that carried him in motion.

The footsteps took a step with a wave, stepping on the bloody upper arm, the huge pain made the breath uncontrollable, and the second half of the sound was like a large piece of gravel stuck in the spasmodic throat, and the bloodshot eyes bulged.

Even so, the man was still reaching for his calf with his other hand, trying to pull Kup to the ground. But he had no chance, and a dangerous shadow clouded his vision, and the cold light of the pagination of iron came to his eyes.

The design of the blades effectively reduces the striking area, and concentrates the scope of the force on a hammer edge, so that the hammer, which should be a blunt weapon, has some sharp properties, especially the metal plate of this weapon also has sharp corners, and the sinister intentions are obvious.

The toughness of the soft tissue was nothing in front of it, and the metal embedded itself in the skin unhindered, touching the underlying bony plate in defiance of the dispensable elasticity before the user could detect the impact.

There seemed to be a faint crunch, conducted along the metal and the handle of the hammer, recognized by the clenched phalanges as the aftermath of the destruction of the same kind, making people feel instinctively resistant.

But the brutality did not end, and after the bone plate, which the Creator had designed to be incapable of being forced, shattered and inserted into the cheek, a water balloon-like thing was crushed and flattened like a fish bubble being clenched, and a jelly-like transparent substance flowed out of the breach.

The sphere was once delicately structured, consisting of several layers of films with different functions and various appendages, allowing it to achieve what Kraft called a series of transformations from light to something Coop could not comprehend.

But not anymore, these things become unbearable to look at, shattering and mixing with the complex labyrinth of bone that follows, becoming a visual death of a mixture of solid and liquid.

Half of the man's face is sunken and collapsed, mixed colors hang from the pits, smearing the other half of the deformed and displaced features, and the thirsty sandy ground sucks the moisture that has lost its restraint.

And the person who made it all felt like he was boiling, and the inexplicable emotions heated every message, horror, guilt, and disgust, like a surging stew on a hot pan, and this association made him vomit with nausea, and struggled to look away from his own results.

[That guy is dead]

Koop realized that he had completed his first steps, and that no one would survive such an injury. So what should we do now?

Turn around, yes, he should turn around and perform the next step. The experience taught by Kraft, from the Baron he had never met, was solidified by repeated training. If there are no enemies in front of you, you should immediately turn around and check.

It was so nice to save consciousness from that unacceptable sight as a matter of course.

Lifting the hammer and turning to the door, the woman who knocked was restrained and dragged aside, and the shadows outside the door were longing, and under the torches were faces of hideous and frightened, and illuminated iron.

It took only two breaths from the opening of the door to the loss of a companion, and their reactions were much slower than Coop's, a quick amateur, and even left Coop room to adjust, staring at each other for a few seconds before rushing up in a swarm of outnumbered superiority.

The man at the head swung his pickaxe against the hammer in a fierce stance, forcing Koop to parry it across the handle of the hammer, and the long pickaxe head jumped in front of his eyes.

The small space in the doorway made it impossible for them to exploit their numerical advantage for a moment, and the man increased his strength and tried to force Koop back into the house to make way for space. But the long-term life of a miner brought not only strength, but also a growing lung disease.

In the wrestling, Koop unexpectedly found himself still in the upper hand. In the face of this form, the Wood family has always had a way to break the game.

The side outside the door put all their strength and attention on the pickaxe, and was pleasantly surprised to feel that the confrontation was slightly lighter. Just when I thought I was going to succeed, a cool breeze blew between my trousers, and a sharp pain came.

The hardest part of the lower limbs hit the most vulnerable part of the lower body, and from there a burning pain emanated, spreading along the groin in an instant, permeating the entire lower abdomen, and the will collapsed, and the limbs fell uncontrollably.

The page hammer slammed down again, this time much better, and in the confusion it was impossible to see what was happening, and Koop only felt something shattered. Mentally numb and just following the simple movements of daily training, these guys are not as fast as Kraft's wooden sword.

Before he could kick the guy away, the second man pounced on him. The hammer that has not yet been raised lacks room to power, but this weapon can be used in a much more way than a pickaxe.

The hammerhead stabbed straight out, and the metal spire slammed down on the ribs, interrupting his opponent before he could complete a powerful and slow swing, with a kick that temporarily and possibly permanently deprived him of all sense of combat power.

The third assailant did not expect this to happen, and his reaction was to turn his head behind him and call out a name with a strong pronunciation in the dialect.

Only then did Koop realize that there was a short guy in a burqa who was not keeping up with him and was falling behind.

This did not prevent him from grasping this flaw, and slammed a hammer at the side of his opponent who was distracted in front of him, several ribs folded horizontally, and the softened chest was like a flail, bulging and collapsing, and every breath brought a tearing pain to the chest wall.

The wounded man took a few steps backwards holding on to the injured part, and collapsed weakly.

There was only one enemy left who was slow to react, and he had not noticed the activities of his companions before, but at this time, he was called by his name and moved like waking up from a dream.

Like a marionette lacking self-awareness, he walks awkwardly over the barricades and into the light.

The figure that was obviously lower than ordinary people was caused by strange rickety movements. The garment is not a burqa, but is made of different fabrics, and in order to cover the head and back, not an inch of the whole body is exposed, and even the lower half of the face is wrapped with strips of cloth.

Similar to the end of some malignant childhood diseases, which caused joint contractures and limited movement, he always maintained the movement of raising his back, bending his limbs, and holding a small iron instrument that was different from other people.

Coop watched him run for some reason—if that could be called running, the unstraightened curvature made his legs move against what was customary, shrinking and bouncing. It is also like a restricted position caused by a lesion, which is driven irrationally.

The speed of this strange movement was not slow, and he approached the murderer who had just knocked down several of his companions, and the iron weapon in his hand could be seen at this time, it was a rusty dagger.

It was poorly maintained, but it was the only real weapon they had ever seen.

This made Koop vigilant, carefully disguised his movements, and made a move before he was close to him, and retracted his feints. Although he had never deceived Kraft since he had learned, and he used it very lamely, he might not be able to give it a try.

The hammer head was lifted from below, and the rickety figure did not dodge or dodge, controlling the flexion of the dagger and turning slightly. Considering the weapons and the length of his arms, Koop was sure that this strange creature couldn't hurt himself before he died.

With a boost of force, the hammer would land on his shoulder or chest, and his first fight would be over if nothing happened.

No, nothing. The emptiness was evident in the Musti Blow, and Koop didn't even touch half of the fluttering cloth, and there was some kind of confusion in the scene where the fire and shadow were half of the scene.

The confusion spreads out from the rickety's body, as if tearing a canvas, replacing one piece with another blank space.

Familiar and unfamiliar feelings, confusion, shifting, the target disappearing from view, sharp pain pressing into the lower back.

(End of chapter)