Before Reynard could withdraw his Longsword, the Collector actually lifted the Yellow Robe that enveloped its body.
Everyone’s attention had originally been focused on Reynard’s sword strike, but as the Collector moved, they all witnessed a scene that sent chills down their spines.
Hidden beneath the Yellow Robe was not a torso understandable to humans, but a grotesque mass ford from countless interwoven and fused heads, beyond description.
The connections between the heads were bizarre. It was as if Flesh had been lted by high temperatures then forcefully fused and grown together. So spinal skeletons erged, and writhing tentacles were visible.
Even the Yellow Robe was part of its body, with many faces, twisted in expression, as if grafted onto it.
These faces had all their features visible. Their eyes all glowed with a faint blue light, just like the collected items. They seed to possess their own consciousness, looking outward, their facial expressions and eye sockets appearing to move slightly.
And Reynard’s Longsword was plunged into one of these heads.
Oh, Holy Light above, what kind of evil monster is this?
Even Reynard, a veteran of the battlefield accustod to the sight of flying limbs and Flesh, couldn’t contain the fear in his heart. He withdrew his Longsword, his steps involuntarily retreating, his body instinctively wanting to distance him from this monster.
The others, including Lance, were also intimidated by the Collector’s true form; no wonder it had a physique even larger than an alpha wolf’s—so that was the sort of thing inside it.
However, unlike the others, Lance had long been ntally prepared, and his ability to process information was much stronger.
After all, the bizarre tastes of his online friends in his previous life had more than prepared him for such grotesque sights.
Lance and the others might be dazed, but the Collector was not.
As it lifted the Yellow Robe, the heads on its body began to wriggle. Soon enough, head after head tore off its connections to the other heads, explaining why these collected items’ faces all looked as if they had suffered severe burns.
The heads, once detached from the Collector, beca new collected items and, replacing the three Lance had just killed, flew towards Reynard.
"Fight!"
Lance shouted and quickly charged forward.
It was only after hearing the Lord’s shout that Reynard ca to his senses, swinging his Longsword to face the approaching collected items.
Luckily, he had instinctively pulled away, or else he would have had no ti to react. But even so, as strong as he was, it was difficult to block three small, flying heads at the sa ti.
One of the collected items evaded the Longsword’s blade, its blue form materializing in close proximity as it swung its soul-cutting weapon at Reynard.
"No!"
And at that mont, the sudden sound of a gunshot rang out; Reynard could even feel the bullet whizzing past his ear.
A bullet instantly hit the collected item’s head, the musket’s power blowing its skull apart, dispelling the concentrated blue light.
By then, Lance had also rushed up, grabbing the collected items and giving them a brutal beating, sending their heads flying.
Newly safe, Reynard couldn’t help but look back. Who else but Dismas could make such a long-distance shot at such a small, moving target?
The support of his companions significantly eased his tense emotions, allowing his pounding heart to slow down.
Having trustworthy companions was far more relieving than bearing it all alone.
Lance didn’t concern himself with what was happening behind him, because after knocking down those collected items, he had charged straight forward.
Unafraid of the Collector’s revealed form, he thrust his Short Sword directly at it.
This was the first ti the Collector had seen such a fierce human. In the past, the re sight of it was enough to terrorize humans into utter defenselessness, allowing it to easily collect the items it desired.
Even when encountering humans with resilient wills, it could summon its collected items to reap them. Their weapons, armor, strong bodies, and rich experience beca aningless before its endless trove of collected items.
So unlike now, encountering a monster who wasn’t afraid of it in the slightest, and against whom its own thods were utterly useless!
If Lance knew that the Collector, an Aberrant Demon, perceived him as a "monster," he probably would have been quite moved.
But he had no ti to think about that now, because his attacks also had no effect; whether the Short Sword was plunged in or pulled out, there was no difference.
Wounds that should have been serious for humans seed to be nothing to it.
The situation he had worried about had arrived: what could he do when neither muskets nor Longswords could inflict harm?
Was it truly the case that only Supernatural Power could combat Supernatural Power?
But all his abilities were supportive. The only one that might inflict harm, Sacrifice, he doubted the Collector would be as foolish as the Butler and give him an opportunity to use it.
He’d thought this would be a steamroll, but now the situation had beco complicated again.
However, Lance quickly readjusted his mindset. This wasn’t a ga, and it had been wishful thinking to rely on ordinary weapons to kill an Aberrant Demon.
At the sa ti, he rembered a very famous saying: There is nothing that caliber cannot resolve; if there is, then increase the caliber!
"I’ll hold it off! You guys go get my Eight-Pound Cannon over here and blast the hell out of it!"
Lance had not forgotten that they had this great weapon on the field, but the problem was that none of them had ever operated such a device.
So when Dismas and the others heard this, they were sowhat flummoxed.
"My Lord, we don’t know how to use cannons at all!"
"The ammunition is already loaded. Point the muzzle at the monster, then take the Ignition Stick and light it."
Lance didn’t understand how to use this muzzle-loading smoothbore cannon, but he rembered Laosan ntioning that it had already been loaded. It was only that the Barbarians had specifically targeted the cannon, killing the igniter as soon as they appeared, which resulted in the cannon becoming inoperative.
So although it was loaded, it had not fired a single shot, and now was the ti.
Dismas and his companions had no choice. Seeing that conventional attacks clearly weren’t playing out effectively, they could only brave their way to one side of the battlefield, moving the cannon to aim it at the Collector.
The Collector kept summoning collected items to fight Lance, occasionally sending out blue flashes of light from its hand, paying no attention to the humans who had run far away.
Over a hundred ters of straight-line distance, against a static target—if they had been trained professional Artilleryn, they would have probably already completed the calibration and fired by now. However, Dismas and his friends struggled for a good while and still didn’t understand the device’s aiming chanism.
If it had been a musket, Dismas would have fired long ago, but he had never used this thing before. He could only aim by feel, fearful of making a mistake and injuring the Lord. He was also afraid of wasting this one Bomb, so he held the Ignition Stick but dared not light it.
Seeing that the others hadn’t gotten it sorted out, Lance also grew anxious. Nobody knew what might happen if they delayed any further. He imdiately pulled back, shouting at them.
"Fire!!!"
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