webnovel Chapter 360: Scared to Walk Deeper
Chapter 360: Scared to Walk Deeper
Thoren watched the massacre with the same detached expression.
"Almost done," he muttered calmly.
Suddenly, he creased his brow. His undead Echo Scarabs had detected many forces rushing toward their direction.
"I need to wrap this up immediately," he whispered under his breath.
He shifted his gaze to the street and urged his undead to increase their killing spree.
With most of the hidden figures killed, his undead vanguard was done with its main mission and was free to join the street battle.
The western street, which had once been full of noise and arrogance, was now a broken battlefield stained with blood.
Broken tables, shattered doors, crushed weapons, and severed limbs lay scattered across the muddy ground.
The surviving enemies were already losing their courage.
"They are coming!"
"Do not let them come!"
"Stop them!"
Watching the many cloaked figures rushing toward them, many that were still holding their ground trembled, their backs drenched in cold sweat.
Deep in their minds, they knew they could not confront the demons marching toward them.
If not for the cloaked figures ignoring them earlier, they all knew they would be lying on the ground in cold blood.
Thus, they had somehow believed they were not going to be targeted.
But now, they discovered they were wrong.
Too wrong.
Their fate had been sealed since the start of the battle.
Before the undead vanguard and the elite undead servants arrived, the undead Sanguine Vultures arrived first, picking their prey one after another.
"W-What..." A woman with a red scarf tied around her neck pointed to the sky.
Before she could complete her statement, a sharp whistling sound reverberated in her ears.
Hmm?
Her body tensed up, and her eyes widened. Slowly, she reached out for her neck, and her palm was dyed in blood.
Grug! Grug!
A mournful, guttural sound escaped from her throat before she fell to the ground, her head rolling off her neck.
Blood splattered onto the hard muddy ground, forming a small stream that flowed between broken stones.
Looking at the headless young woman, many froze on their spots, unable to react for a couple of seconds. Fear gripped their hearts like a vice.
"W-We surrender..." a voice shouted. "P-Please... I surrender... Do not kill me..." He fell to his knees and wept.
Watching the scene, many could not believe their eyes. In such a tense and deadly moment, how could he weep? However, many understood his thoughts.
Against such a terrifying force, many were helpless, and many could not help but sigh heavily.
Some wanted to follow him and kneel.
Some wanted to throw away their weapons and beg.
Some still hesitated, clinging to the foolish hope that resistance might buy them a chance to escape.
Thud! Thud!
However, the fast approaching heavy footsteps woke them up from their melancholy.
"Dammit! They are still coming." The figure playing the emotion card widened his eyes when he saw the cloaked figures.
He rose to his feet and grabbed his rapier tightly, his eyes bloodshot, and veins protruded on his forehead.
His surrender had been a gamble.
If the enemy cared about mercy, he would live.
Unfortunately, the undead did not understand mercy, hesitation, or emotional tricks.
Swish! Swish!
Thud! Thud!
Once again, two people fell to the ground, their heads severed from their necks. Such a strange killing spree sent shivers down their spines.
Many tried to find out what was killing them.
They could not find it.
Like a ghost with a scythe, it harvested their lives.
The crimson shadows in the sky moved too quickly for ordinary eyes to follow.
By the time anyone sensed danger, blood had already spilled.
Just then, the vanguard arrived before the few rats still remaining.
"Die!" many screamed at the top of their lungs, throwing everything to defend themselves.
They unleashed sword skills.
They threw hidden knives.
They hastily cast spells.
But then, they learned the lesson of why many people stronger than them were squashed like ants before these cloaked figures.
Bang!
The heavy broadsword of the undead Guild Captain collided with many weapons at once.
Crack!
Instantly, all the weapons shattered into pieces.
Their wielders widened their eyes in disbelief.
How was this possible?
Before they could wrap their heads around what had just happened, the terrifying heavy broadsword was already upon them.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bodies were cut asunder.
They were like fish on a chopping board.
Their bodies were cut into fragments. Arms, legs, and organs scattered to the ground in a brutal display.
A man who had once shouted the loudest stared down at his missing lower body in disbelief.
A woman tried to crawl away with one arm, only for the pressure of the battlefield to freeze her in place.
Another awakener gripped his shattered sword handle, his lips moving silently, as if still trying to chant a skill.
In another part of the street, the undead Elite Jackal Beastman swung his spiked club, ripping human organs directly from their chests.
Chests caved in, and flesh flew through the air.
Eyes were ripped out from their sockets.
Brain juice splattered onto the ground.
Many screamed in excruciation.
The sound was miserable, raw, and desperate.
However, no one dared open their doors to help them.
No one dared call out.
No one even dared to look for too long.
In less than one minute, all the few stragglers that were trying desperately to escape were lying on the ground in pools of blood.
Blood flowed from one edge of the street to the other.
The street was quiet like a graveyard.
No, the street had become a graveyard.
The earlier chaos vanished completely, leaving behind only deathly silence.
The gambling den no longer had laughter.
The brothel no longer had music.
The merchant stores no longer had bargaining voices.
Everything that had once made the western street lively had been crushed beneath the undead feet and drowned beneath blood.
Those hiding behind their doors did not dare make a sound.
Too scared to breathe too loudly.
Their faces were pale, and their hearts pounded heavily against their chests as if their hearts were going to escape from their bodies.
Some hid beneath their wooden beds.
Some pressed their backs against walls, shaking so badly their teeth clicked together.
Through narrow cracks in the doors and windows, they saw the cloaked figures standing among the dead.
No one knew who had brought them.
No one knew why they had come.
But everyone understood one thing.
The Slave Trade Guild’s authority over this street had been shattered.
Looking at the deathly quiet street, Thoren nodded calmly and without hesitation called back all his undead servants. He jumped onto the back of the undead Sanguine Vulture and vanished from the street.
Behind him, the western street remained silent.
The blood had not dried.
The bodies had not cooled.
The fear had not faded.
Three minutes later, a group of Sandroach men rushed into the street. When they saw the carnage, they froze for a moment and were too scared to walk deeper into the street.
Beastmen always believed they were savage, ferocious and brutal. But looking at the chaos before them, their instinct screams of terror.
Terror beyond what they could ever handle.