"Boss, stop wasting your breath on him! Look at him, he's clearly not soone who's been starving!"
"Just tie him up and interrogate him!"
Seeing the man remain silent, the leading soldier gradually sensed sothing was amiss. He tugged on the turban on his head, and in a voice lowered by the sense of danger, he asked,
"What's your na?"
"Gunter Steinengrabe."
"Gunt... what's Grabe?" The soldier hesitated, feeling like the na sounded familiar, but it was too long to rember.
He glanced again at the man, whose simple clothing belied the exceptional quality of the great sword strapped to his back.
This guy even has a surna!
Could be a fallen noble!
The thought sparked a greedy glimr in the soldier's eyes, and he licked his chapped lips.
"Oh, so it's a noble lord!"
He turned around excitedly, waving his hand forward.
"Brothers, capture this Saint Sis's lackey! He must have loads of treasures on him!"
On the Aus Continent, nobles possess surnas, but not everyone with a surna is a noble.
Yet these green-headed fools clearly couldn't handle such complex information and were too lazy to bother.
It was rely an excuse for murder.
Killing and robbing were what they truly desired.
However—
This ti, they seed to have picked the wrong target.
The soldier had just begun to turn his head away when he realized his head couldn't stop, spinning in the air like a top.
He saw his own headless body, his scattered comrades, and the hand of that man, resting on the hilt of his sword, without knowing when it had been drawn...
When did this guy draw his sword?!
Before he could process the terror in his heart, his soul returned to the embrace of the Eternal Hunger Claw.
As the price, or gift, for worshipping the Evil Spirit, his soul would eternally reincarnate in the insatiable Nest City of Urgos under the na "Desirer."
Hunger would accompany his soul until all the stars extinguish and the universe reaches thermal death...
Gunter calmly observed the shattered corpses, then silently released his grip on the sword hilt, waiting quietly in place.
Killing ten n was far from enough to vent the anger in his heart, and finding them one by one was too troubleso.
He decided to stand here, kill until rivers of blood flowed, using the blood of sinners to appease the souls of the dead!
...
Unlike the corpses strewn about in the small town, the camp of "Butcher" Malaki was a true feast of wine and flesh.
He was one of the twelve leaders of the Green Forest Army and had originally joined forces with "Green Turban" Kelan in making trouble.
Unlike Kelan, who genuinely robbed the rich to help the poor, Malaki pocketed the things he looted for himself.
He was sitting shirtless on a pile of gold and silver treasures and haphazardly stacked woolen skins, crudely stuffing a sizzling, oily roasted leg of at into his mouth, washing it down with bright red wine.
"Hahaha! Such pleasure! Damn, it's such pleasure!"
Wiping the grease off his mouth with a luxurious velvet tapestry, Malaki sighed with satisfaction once more.
It was indeed very satisfying.
He had been a slave risking his life in the arena, and now he was finally in the audience seats, driving those who cheered and enjoyed watching him into the gladiator's cage.
Of course, he was a man of elevated tastes and couldn't just be satisfied with spiritual enjoynt.
In this process, he unexpectedly discovered that as long as he pleased that whispering voice in the shadows, he could gain unimaginable strength from that void!
As he practiced 'learning by doing,' he slowly worked out a pattern.
Killing people made him stronger.
Eating people made him even stronger!
If he got one group of people to eat another, he could beco an almighty Divine!
Upon realizing this, Malaki was as thrilled as Castillion I, having discovered the New Continent.
He, too, had discovered the secret of Becoming a God!
Thanks to the ritual imparted by Urgos, his strength surged as if wings had been attached. And just recently, he was pleasantly surprised to find he had officially broken through the Diamond Level barrier!
Diamond was a watershed.
In his impression, none of the other Green Forest Army leaders were more than Gold or even Platinum, mostly on par with the knights of the Nobles, hardly able to gain any advantage.
Realizing how formidable he had beco, Malaki's confidence swelled unprecedentedly, no longer taking even "Green Turban" Kelan seriously.
Although he didn't know the current strength levels of the other leaders, it hardly seed possible they could be stronger than himself.
After all, "only" he knew the secret of Becoming a God.
Just as he was indulging, a subordinate scrambled in, face full of terror.
"Boss, boss! We've got trouble! Sothing happened in Grey Stone Town; so guy ca out of nowhere, killing everyone... Almost a thousand stationed brothers are nearly dead!"
Malaki paused for a mont, impatiently tossing aside the unchewed bone, as several grimy won chained together lunged for it like wild dogs.
Only one legless girl remained still, hopelessly staring at the bone as if soulless.
He grabbed a bottle of Campbell wine, took a swig, and moistened his throat before speaking.
"If they're dead, they're dead. Why the fuss?"
He had never expected much from a mob of gun-wielding peasants; they were rely stationed there to keep an eye on his "altar."
User Comments
0 comments from readers