Chapter 425 We are unstoppable
The creaking sound of cutting meat was mixed with the intermittent pounding, the starlight spread on the path made of square stone slabs, three or five childish voices crying due to collisions were locked into the house, and the early spring birds finally made a few crisp chirps.
"The Gor Beast is coming!" the adults shouted, scaring the children who were still running wild outside, causing them to scream and cry out.
"How much meat can a Gormon eat? A Gormon will eat all the meat, and it will keep eating. You can totally believe it.
There is plenty of meat here if you can find more.”
The children were sent back to the house by gentle nursery rhymes. They were descendants of the Thuringian tribe and the remnants of the Duncanwald territory.
Today, a thousand years later, this province has become a story. The last "Berserker King" was killed in the frenzy of horned beasts, and the rune sword "Beast Slayer" was forever covered in dust.
It is difficult to say whether they now have a larger proportion of Middenland's Teutonic blood or a larger proportion of the old heritage.
The once glorious cities were lost in the forest, and only the horned beasts remembered them.
The ruins of the city were black, the dense forests blocked the starlight, and a cruel darkness spread over the city buried by the Duncanwald Forest. Loud roars of beasts conveyed rude language to each other, fleeting conflicts occurred, and ended with blood splattered on the rocks.
This is the land of the Beastmen, which men have never conquered and never will, as long as men exist.
Flames burned in the vine-filled center of the city, like dancing will-o'-the-wisp fires.
Eight torches surrounded the high platform in the center of the square. The inner circle was the living sacrifice that was still struggling, and the outer circle was the aliens with beast heads.
Some of them directly exposed their strange sheep and bull heads to the air, while others covered them slightly with helmets covered with spikes. Messy flags fluttered around, and the bravest champion stood next to the torch, and everyone could see it.
Doomsday bulls are rare. Minotaur are rare, and the best among the herd are even rarer.
It was stronger than four humans tied together. The blood on its barbed iron and copper armor was still wet. Skulls engraved with runes hung in a circle around its waist, and under the black iron helmet were a pair of ruby-like eyes.
The curved horns, as sharp as a blade, extended savagely behind the cheek guard, and mist sprayed out from the nostrils with copper rings along with its hot breath and desire for slaughter.
It is definitely a nightmare for travelers in Duncanwald Forest, and any prey it targets will die.
How many caravans were wealthy enough to hire an army to escort them? "My brother beasts, my teeth and claws! My blood is still burning!" The monster sprayed water vapor all over the sky, and the hideous octagonal emblem of Khorne turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye under the firelight.
"We need more killing! Skulls offered to the Blood God are not enough! Victory is not enough!"
Yes, spread the flames of war to the heart of humanity, and spread death to the unguarded towns of the Empire. The messenger of the Red Crown silently incited, saying that there was nothing better than a riot in a parade, and the great deceiver would draw attention to it.
He still didn't know the actions of other cults, and he didn't know whether the army that set out from Middenheim had reached its destination. He only needed to incite, and the same went for those loose groups scattered throughout the empire. They only needed to destroy with non-stop riots, which was their only prayer for the rest of their lives.
There is no better opportunity than now. The empire has shown its weakness in the darkness. How can the sharp teeth and sharp jaws hidden in the darkness let go of the meat at hand? Rotair stumbled through the dense forest. The poisonous snakes awakened from hibernation were afraid of him, and the tigers and leopards preying at night were afraid of him. He was the top predator.
Traveling in the forest is more reliable than on the road. Those fallen ones are riding war horses. Lothar is confident that he can kill nearly a hundred beastmen, but he is not confident about facing the same number of knights.
He couldn't die until he reached Sessenmond alive and found reliable officials.
In a trance, the warrior, who had no intact skin on his body, returned to the time when he was taking the trial. At that time, he was also trudging in the woods like now. He strangled a winter wolf as big as a calf with his bare hands, knocked out its teeth with his fists, and killed all the wolves in the subsequent ambush.
It was a thrilling battle then, and it is just as thrilling now.
The sound of the sharp arrow breaking through the air was heard by Lothar. The ambushers failed again. A group of beastmen emerged from the woods and soon met the evil god in a short and fierce battle.
When Lothar held the severed head of the bighorn beast in one hand and smashed it at another group of beastmen who were trying to ambush him, the beasts fled like rabbits.
The White Wolf Knight sneered, endured the pain in his legs, and continued to jog in the woods.
The dripping blood formed a line behind him. He knew that his whereabouts had been exposed, but he no longer had the strength to cover it up. He could only run as far away as possible before the knights caught up with him.
The ethereal sound of a deer's cry suddenly appeared in the distance, and soon it became closer.
When the Inner Circle Knight fought off another ambush and fell to the ground due to excessive blood loss, he saw white patterns and a pair of majestic antlers.
He clenched his weapon tightly, leaned against the tree trunk, and confronted the monster that was taller than a human.
He will die like a warrior, who also holds his weapon and inflicts wounds on his enemies before dying.
The giant deer bent down, and just when Rotaire thought it was going to charge at him, it crawled on the ground, its glowing amber eyes staring at the human without blinking.
Shelent looked at the bloodstains on the ground gloomily. He came too late. From the beginning, those Khorne cultists should not have caused trouble. They should have just prepared for the attack on the mysterious gang. There was no need to add variables.
Groups of beastmen fell to the side of Shelent. They groaned suddenly, wailed, dragged their bodies on the ground, and smeared marks on the earth with pus.
A bloated man in black holding a snake staff came from the end of the northern road. This might be good news. Many smart people knew that the "Hand of Asclepius" controlled most of the "Chosen Ones", and capturing their members would always give them some useful information.
The doctor has noticed that another member of their kind has gone missing. They should not have died, but there is indeed one less soul in their consciousness network.
Those pioneers who died will return to the garden and enjoy eternal tranquility.
They should have discovered the news earlier. By the time the "Chosen Ones" were attacked one by one by the pagans, it was too late.
Even if they all lose their material support, they want to find back the "chosen one" that was taken away by the pagans.
No one can call out Paradise, not even the Tirian Society of Nurgle, nor Tzeentch's puppets.
Let the "Medical Encyclopedia" be forever covered in dust in paradise. It is knowledge that should not appear in the world and it must be covered in dust forever.
Like a beast cornered, the doctor glared at the beastmen lurking around and at Tzeentch's minions.
Death is not the end.
(End of this chapter)
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