Chapter 1452: Old Hunter

Chapter 1452: Chapter 1415: Old Hunter

Doregale, heart racing, breathless, ran frantically down from Gastang Palace.

He is the Royal Advisor to Hidaris, King Essien, and a senior professor at Ban Aide Academy.

Just as Philippa Eilhart had arranged before.

The secret mission to capture and detain the traitorous wizards required a presence from the Neutral Kingdom to bear witness and convey the events at Gastang Palace.

Based solely on the wizard’s current speed and expression as he sprinted, there was no doubt he was no longer welcome.

Doregale had already escaped to that massive stone bridge.

He was not familiar with Airetusa, so he didn’t know that the bridge had already been renovated.

He, like before, chose to walk exclusively on the black squares of the checkerboard-like bridge surface, which undoubtedly delayed him.

Solving this issue should not be difficult for a wizard, especially since his hands weren’t bound by Demon-Blocking Golden Shackles, and Gastang Palace’s magic-blocking array had crumbled along with the whole tower.

He could simply utter a brief spell and calmly release a small amount of magic power to safely cross using a Floating Spell.

But he had no time!

Not even the slightest bit of time!

‘Whoosh’—the sound was as light as the cold wind blowing through.

Then an arrow stroked Doregale’s arm, hitting the stone bridge surface and snapping in half from the impact.

Doregale’s already soaked body suddenly broke into a cold sweat again! At the same time, his heart pounded! His breathing was rapid, and his saliva turned viscous!

If he hadn’t sidestepped to walk on the black square earlier, the arrow would have pierced his back!

Doregale was not a combat-skilled mage; he had never been so close to death!

The rapid heartbeat and chaotic mind were beyond his control! He could not possibly cast spells calmly under such conditions!

If he had this capability, directly using the Floating Spell to leap from the tower to the sea at Gastang Palace, where there were no casting restrictions anymore, would have been easy.

But during the terrifying turmoil that followed, those not skilled in combat didn’t immediately realize this option.

Whereas those proficient in battle spells were deliberately held back or eliminated.

Subsequently, a large ship carrying hundreds of Squirrel Faction members soared straight across the sea, crashing towards them!

Thus, the wizards besieged by the Squirrel Faction had even less of a chance to pause and calmly cast spells.

They dared to cast aggressive spells, of course, since these just required hurling magic power outward.

But casting a Floating Spell fixed near their body, amidst unstable magic power and thoughts—who would dare?

Wizards are the ones most aware of the dangers and anomalies of Chaos Magic Power.

Doregale hadn’t had a chance to feel relieved that his pattern of walking on black squares let him evade the first arrow, as his heart sank instantly.

His movement pattern of seeking black squares was too obvious!

The Squirrel Faction’s archers are elf archers; even someone running in seemingly random paths can’t escape their arrows, and this blatant movement pattern wouldn’t evade the second arrow!

With his mind racing downwards, Doregale felt his body stiffen.

The friction from his fine deerskin boots against the stone slabs seemed to scrape his bones!

But his stiff body continued as planned, stepping onto the next black square.

Not everyone under life-and-death pressure becomes meticulous, breaks limits, remains calm and sharp, allowing their thinking and adaptability to lead them through danger.

Like Doregale, most people face death without a working brain, unable to think clearly.

Thus his body rigidly moved another step toward death.

Vague hallucinations started for Doregale.

He thought he could hear laughter behind him from the Squirrel Faction. Those elves were laughing, discussing how many humans they had already killed.

Yet the elves didn’t realize that wizards were the most accepting and sympathetic towards non-human races.

This meeting’s agenda even included the topic ‘Discussion and Suppression of Escalating Racial Discrimination’ jointly added by Tishaya and Henry Gemitis.

‘No…’

Doregale couldn’t control his scattered thoughts; his mind wandered aimlessly.

‘Even if the Squirrel Faction cared, they probably wouldn’t mind. After all, the conditions offered by Emperor Enshir of Niflgaard, Francisca, were evidently better.

At this moment, Doregale even felt phantom pains in his lungs.

An arrow from behind would likely injure the lungs.

Yet even when the wizard himself was numb…

“Phew~”

A wisp of deep blue smoke swept past Doregale like the wind!

Doregale’s stiff foot finally landed on the next black surface, but he was not dead, nor had his lungs been pierced by an arrow from behind.

On the contrary, cries and screams of agony descended from behind him.

The screams came in succession, but due to the rapid pace, it sounded like a sudden outburst.

Doregale continued stiffly jumping on the black squares.

But immediately, he felt a tightness at his collar, and his whole body was shoved against the stone bridge’s railing, his head pressed down, as if being placed on a chopping block meant for executions.

The wizard began to scream and struggle, but it was all in vain.

A short, curved, and fierce dagger, with a seemingly old yet deep material, pressed against his throat.

With the nervous movement of his Adam’s apple, Doregale felt his skin being pushed, almost cutting against the blade.

A gloved hand, full of the scent of blood and a sticky, slippery texture, was ruffling through his screaming head.

The foul-smelling blood was smeared onto Doregale’s face and hair during this process.

Eventually, when his hair was wet enough to stick to his scalp, his ears were exposed.

Then, the wizard heard a muffled whisper: “Not pointed ears, not killing… It seems you are not prey.”

Subsequently, the bloodied hand left his head.

Doregale was still screaming uncontrollably, clutching his throat as he fled awkwardly.

He only saw a dark, raven-feathered cloak’s silhouette.

The glistening feathers, as if doused in blood, were stained with an unknown amount of it.

If it were usual times, Doregale would have already started criticizing the harm to animals from using bird feathers to make a cloak.

But now, looking at the elves lying in disarray on the other side of the bridge, who had just, in a moment, fallen silently, he was left speechless.

The manner of the elves’ deaths wasn’t exaggerated, at least much more dignified than Doregale had imagined before actually witnessing it.

The only anomaly was the large pool of fresh blood accumulating beneath these otherwise normal corpses.

The wizard didn’t know if those two strange daggers were magic items, nor if the person wearing the seemingly thick coat was a secret ally of Airetusa.

But he knew, in such a short time, the one who had all the elves’ squirrel tails soaked in blood… Her efficiency in killing was too high.

No, it almost couldn’t be called ‘killing’; at such efficiency, it should be called ‘cleansing’!

Though Doregale did not dare to look back much while fleeing, he knew clearly that even if he did turn around, with his eyesight and experience, he probably wouldn’t see any trace of the Squirrel Faction.

Elves are naturally more agile than humans, and the Squirrel Faction, adept at guerrilla warfare against armies, excels in concealment and ambush.

When they sneak into gardens or bushes, someone like Doregale would have no idea where the enemy is.

Yet, the person with the raven-feather cloak before him seemed to have an almost innate understanding of where the Squirrel Faction might hide and from where they might strike.

The elves, originally hiding in corners to ambush, often found themselves pinned and killed before they could attack.

Experience, skill… Even to an outsider like Doregale, it was clear that in front of this person, the Squirrel Faction looked like a group of apprentices, naïve and transparent.

A series of sharp slicing sounds.

Yet, not a single metallic clash occurred.

No sparks, no collision.

A Squirrel Faction member, drawing his weapon to duel with the Crow Hunter, was now wildly and fiercely swinging his elf long blade.

But his expression was as if he’d seen a ghost.

The person clad in black raven feathers before him was like a demon spirit!

She completely avoided all of his attacks!

The blade seemed to slash through a cloud of black smoke!

Then, a double ‘sizzle’ sound!

This was the only sound during their combat, other than the swinging of weapons.

Erin’s two Mercy Blades, combined with the Yan Nan Hunter’s accustomed agile sidestep technique, allowed her to dodge the elf’s blade smoothly.

Then both hands simultaneously closed in from both sides, in an instant, the flesh under the elf’s armpits tore apart, erupting with a mass of blood.

The tendons exerting force were also precisely severed, causing the long blade in his hands to slip out and fall due to inertia.

In the next moment, the two short blades on each side ‘clicked’ together under the burst of sparks from triggered mechanisms!

The Transformation Slash of the Mercy Blades unleashed upon the elf’s neck.

The interlocking blades ‘snipped’ the elf’s head right off!

It fell with a roll on the ground, the squirrel tail immersed in blood deep enough to submerge shoe soles.

“Did we miss anyone?”

The sound of footsteps in the blood pool rose calmly, as if this terrifying scene, enough to terrify any normal person, was just a matter of course to its owner.

Henrik, dressed in a dirt-colored trench coat, while wiping off the layer of blood on his leather coat with gloves, spoke as he walked across the bridge.

He was holding a meat saw, still dripping with a mix of blood, pulp, and fur, the sound of it hitting the ground was soft, ‘pat-pat’.

But at this moment, Doregale, sitting on the ground, felt this sound was deafening!

Henrik’s eyes, caught between the brim of a triangle hat and a mask, glanced slightly at the wizard’s exposed ears where his hair had been pulled away earlier.

Then he walked past without breaking stride.

The conversation among the Yan Nan Hunters was still as light as a dream talk.

As if this sharp turn of events, this cruel and bloody night, was just a profound dream.