"Damn! Those little shits are training this early? Don't they let people sleep anymore~" Dismas muttered in annoyance as the sound of dense gunfire filled the air. "They're never this diligent normally..."
But as he spoke, he suddenly snapped awake. His eyes flared open, filled with alertness instead of the laziness of just waking up.
Damn it! This should be the ti for physical training; why are there gunshots?
Those in his line of work were incredibly sensitive to these things because those who weren't sensitive were already dead.
With one hand, he pushed away the woman sprawled over him and got out of bed. While donning his equipnt, he walked to the window and carefully peered out.
"What's going on, Sir?" the woman on the bed, woken by the commotion, sleepily asked.
"It's none of your business." Seeing the sheriffs organizing the militia to take over the town's security, Dismas realized sothing was wrong. "If it's nothing, don't go out wandering around."
After dropping that line, Dismas quickly left. The woman on the bed curled her lip and muttered in disdain.
"Hmph! n~"
However, she then reached for the money on the bedside table, weighing it in her hand and smiling smugly to herself.
When the beacon of war was ignited and the Heretics blended among the refugees began to move, so long-awaited assailants also launched their attack on Hamlet.
Militia guarded key positions, but these Heretics were elite. When they clashed, it was uncertain if the militia could hold them off. Although they had participated in militia training, they weren't professional soldiers; seeing blood was destined to make so waver. What was worse, when they thrust spears into these enemies, they discovered it didn't kill them. Instead, it excited the Heretics into maniacal laughter, completely draining the militia's morale. And when the wounds of those assailants healed at a visually rapid rate, it shook the resolve of the militia.
Why does the Church suppress and block all supernatural powers?
That's why.
Those supernatural powers that pop up are unstable elents that threaten their rule. And here, it manifested as a crumbling defensive line.
Invincible...
Can we really defeat these devils?
I shouldn't have overestimated myself...
If the militia had simply maintained their spear formation as trained, it would have been difficult for the Heretics to break through. But psychological factors beca the critical elent that broke them.
BANG!
At that mont, a gunshot rang out. A Heretic fell, his iron helt offering no protection as the bullet entered through his eye.
With that level of precision, it could only be Dismas.
"What's there to fear? They can be hurt, they can die! What's so surprising about that?" Dismas shouted as he charged in. He had also taught these militian how to use firearms, so his voice was very familiar to everyone.
The instructor's appearance provided them with psychological support. More crucially, Dismas demonstrated with action that these Heretics could indeed be killed. Fear stems from the unknown, but once understood, the pressure it brings drastically decreases.
The formation steadied once more, but the Heretics' attack would not be so easily repelled.
"I've been wandering idle for too long." After Dismas reloaded, he drew the Short Sword from his waist and glared at the Heretics, coldly stating his intent.
The fighting that erupted in Hamlet wasn't confined to just one area; the Ascension Sect had truly committed its full force this ti.
"Take them down, girl!"
A sharp whistle, followed by a shout, and an agile figure rushed out, pouncing on the Heretics and biting fiercely. That bite was bone-deep, and with ferocious tearing, she dragged the Heretic down.
William charged forward as well, snatching up a club, its end bristling with spikes, and swung it hard. He struck the Heretic's hood, knocking the attacker unconscious. William tore off the Heretic's hood—he had to hit his face! His strength, honed by years of intensive training inherited from his family, was formidable. It didn't take many blows to burst the Heretic's head open.
But these Heretics didn't operate alone; they moved in small squads.
With the sheriffs dispatched to lead the militia, William's takedown of one Heretic alerted others nearby. Three more imdiately charged towards him.
However, William stood resolute, coiling the dog leash around one fist while wielding the bloodied and brain-spattered club in the other. And Fergus, too, crouched low, ready to surge forward, her sharp teeth still dripping with blood.
Man and dog were both prepared for battle when, suddenly, soone burst out of the inn's entrance.
The figure was fully ard, clad in Scale Armor and wielding a hatchet.
Who else could it be but Tadiff?
Inside the inn, Tadiff had also heard the gunshots earlier. But, unfamiliar with Hamlet and unclear about the situation, he had simply tried to go back to sleep. That is, until the sounds of fighting erupted from downstairs. Looking out the window, he saw Heretics, for so unknown reason, attacking the townsfolk in the street. He didn't know what was happening, but he recognized it as a good opportunity to collect a bounty. So, he quickly suited up, erging to step right between the Heretics and William at the perfect mont.
"It's slaughter ti~" Tadiff drew the hatchet from his waist, his gaze instantly locking onto the nearest Heretic as he charged forward.
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