Grendel stopped, a look of revulsion and even hatred involuntarily surfacing on her face, yet it couldn’t fully conceal the fear beneath.
"Go on." Finally encountering a key character in the story, Lance’s attention was inevitably piqued.
Grendel appeared reluctant to recall the hulking figure draped in wolf pelt, but after a brief pause, she continued speaking.
"I haven’t seen him since our last encounter. Over the past few years, Warwolf has beco even more deranged. Of course, his power has also beco terrifying..."
As the Wolf God’s chosen, Warwolf demonstrated his expected strength in this massacre. The warriors of the Deerhead Tribe were utterly unable to even stall him.
After receiving the Wolf God’s blessing, his resistance to various negative effects grew strong. The secret techniques passed down through the tribe ultimately had little destructive power against him.
Not to ntion, the Deerhead Tribe had always been a small tribe, with fewer than a thousand mbers. They had no strength to resist the Fang Wolf Tribe, which had been lurking in the shadows for a long ti.
Initially, they hoped to buy so ti for the old and weak to evacuate, but the defensive line crumbled the mont Warwolf began his frenzied slaughter.
The Fang Wolf Tribe had completed their encirclent. Judging by their deanor, it was apparent they had no intention of letting a single person escape.
Seeing the situation was irreversible, the tribe’s Priest instructed Grendel to escape and avenge the tribe.
The Priest himself invoked a Forbidden Technique. Its powerful force tore through the encirclent, and he used this opportunity to engage Warwolf.
But the cost of using such a Forbidden Technique was imnse: his body would inevitably begin to transform into a plant. Yet, the Priest did not hesitate, continually sacrificing his life to hold back the enemy and forge a path...
Grendel didn’t elaborate further, her expression sowhat dazed.
Even Boudica, an outcast who wandered after being banished from her tribe, knew that Warwolf had triumphed and the Deerhead Tribe was annihilated. The Priest had likely perished as well, leaving Grendel as the sole escapee from her tribe.
Grendel had escaped, but her soul remained forever on that brutal battlefield, steeped in blood and despair. Every ti she closed her eyes, those horrific scenes replayed, and she couldn’t help but clench her Magic Wand, her knuckles turning white.
"Bloodthirsty Thorns? Like you did before?" Lance recalled that she seed to have extended thorns from her hand previously.
"This is a piece of equipnt created by combining our tribe’s secret techniques. It can grow controlled Bloodthirsty Thorns. When the thorns catch prey, they drain its blood, nourishing the user’s body in return. However, if they consu too much without replenishnt, they will start draining the user’s own blood."
So, it either leeches blood from enemies or drains the user’s own blood if it misses. Lance looked at the artifact, sensing only a kind of malevolence from it. Indeed, Supernatural Power is rarely straightforward; it usually cos with all sorts of side effects.
As she spoke, Grendel proactively extended her right hand and rolled up her sleeve.
Lance’s gaze followed her raised sleeve upward. What he saw at her wrist was a grueso and bizarre sight.
A bracelet made of thorns was on her wrist. Its sharp spikes pierced directly into her skin, leaving nurous scars.
Seeing this, Lance finally understood why he had drawn so much Spiritual Essence from her when he saved her. It turned out her body had been severely depleted.
At the ti, the situation had been too urgent for him to notice.
But logically, he had already healed her physical injuries. Why were there still scars?
Lance thought for a mont and quickly understood. These injuries must have been from the recent period when she had no prey to feed the thorns, suffering a backlash and having to nourish them with her own blood.
"Didn’t I tell you to speak up if you needed anything? You treated for the plague. Would I really begrudge you the flesh and blood to feed your Bloodthirsty Thorns?" Saying this, Lance gently took Grendel’s right hand and activated his Ability to heal the wounds on it.
Grendel didn’t resist. Perhaps she was still in a daze and hadn’t reacted before her hand was grasped. In just a breath, the scars on it were healed.
"We’re comrades. You must speak up if anything happens. Even if I can’t help resolve it, I can at least share the burden." Lance didn’t overstep. After finishing the healing, he released her hand but didn’t forget to earnestly remind her.
"Mmm..." Grendel retracted her hand, not saying much more. She felt the pain in her wrist vanish, leaving only a lingering warmth.
Lance sensed the mood had beco awkward and quickly steered the conversation back on course.
"Weren’t you on good terms with many tribes? Why didn’t you seek their help instead of coming to the Empire?"
"If our tribe were facing an attack but still holding out, just one ssage would bring countless tribes to help us fight against the Fang Wolf Tribe.
"If our tribe lost to the Fang Wolf Tribe’s attack but so of us survived, many tribes would still be willing to take us in, to provide Sanctuary.
"Unfortunately, the Fang Wolf Tribe knew this too, so from the start of their attack, they had no intention of leaving any survivors.
"And when only I remained to seek help from those tribes, it was highly unlikely any would offer Sanctuary. After all, even after escaping, I was still being hunted by the Fang Wolf Tribe; Warwolf would not let go.
"No tribe would be willing to go to war with the Fang Wolf Tribe for just one person, especially not when the Fang Wolf Tribe had greatly increased its strength by seizing our tribe’s legacy."
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