CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61: THE LAST GLORY_1

Had it been an ordinary person, that blow would have already stripped them of their ability to fight, but these Barbarians seemed to ignore the pain, stabbing with their Short Swords from treacherous angles.

Unfortunately for them, Balistan was not fighting alone.

"Holy Light, grant me strength!"

A roar erupted as Reynard, who had remained behind Balistan, raised his Longsword, took a stance, and cleaved downwards.

Gripping the hilt with both hands, the accumulated power exploded forth, accelerating the Longsword to a terrifying speed in an instant. Even more frightening was Reynard’s unwavering control over the blade’s edge, as he brought it down precisely into the small gap between the Barbarian’s shoulder and neck.

SHRAAACK!

The grating sound of tearing metal resounded. As Reynard withdrew his sword, a large part of the Barbarian’s shoulder was cleft open, their spine severed. Regardless of their ability to ignore pain, they could only collapse.

Seeing Reynard and his allies gaining the upper hand, Dismas shouted to them, "Go help the Lord! I can handle this myself!" He then stopped tangling with the Barbarian he was facing. As their blades clashed, he unleashed a fierce killing intent, pressed his long-silent pistol against the Barbarian, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

BANG!

No armor could withstand such a point-blank shot. It left the Barbarian severely stunned.

In that instant, Dismas swung his Short Sword, precisely targeting the gap between the Barbarian’s mask and neck. Showing no mercy, he slit their throat. Blood gushed out, and after a few moments on the ground, the Barbarian was utterly motionless.

Real battles often happen in an instant and end just as quickly.

Lance certainly noticed Dismas’s impressive performance, but he was well aware of his own limitations and knew better than to posture when he lacked their skill. He patiently waited for Reynard and the others to arrive, turning the fight into a righteous three-on-one.

Lance would have liked to capture a Barbarian, but the reality was that they all fought to the death without a hint of fear.

Fearing that prolonging the fight might lead to complications, Lance had no choice but to eliminate his opponent. The squad then regrouped and hurried back to the main battlefield.

A short while ago, the captain had been trading blows evenly with the Lead Wolf. Now, however, all his men were dead. In contrast, the Wolf Faction still had two warriors supporting their leader.

It was still a one-on-one fight, except now it was the captain against three.

As Lance had predicted, the captain, now surrounded, was exhausted. His armor was riddled with battle scars and covered in blood. His chest, in particular, bore gruesome, claw-like gashes—marks left by the spikes on the Lead Wolf’s Great Shield.

Perhaps that’s the origin of this Mercenary Corps’ name, Lance mused.

But the Barbarians showed no signs of stopping. The Lead Wolf raised his Great Shield and smashed it forward, its spikes like the sharp talons of a wolf.

The Lead Wolf’s Great Shield crashed into the captain, its sharp points piercing his armor and sinking into his abdomen.

Despite the tremendous impact, the captain did not falter. He stood firm, leaning on his saber, unyielding, as blood seeped from his mouth, dripping to the ground.

Finally, the imminent threat of death jolted the captain from his strange state. Recalling everything they had endured on their journey, he couldn’t believe what he had done. A mixture of horror and grief contorted his features.

"Oh, no... no... what have I done?"

He looked around at the gory battlefield, at the familiar faces of his soldiers, now dead... The scene plunged him back to that other, nightmarish battlefield.

Fear instantly consumed him, and he sank into a chasm of utter despair.

You always keep your Great Shield raised, leaving no openings, Lance thought, observing the Lead Wolf. But when you attack, you expose yourself.

BANG!

Lance stood, gun aimed, the rising smoke from the barrel obscuring his face.

The bullet struck the Lead Wolf’s unprotected arm, causing him to falter.

The gunshot also snapped the captain back to his senses. Seizing the momentary opening, he swung his saber with all his might.

"Come on, you devils! I won’t run anymore! Let me show you the might of an Imperial soldier!"

He was actively seeking death, showing no intention of retreating from the enemy’s onslaught. This stroke held nothing back. It was an all-or-nothing, life-risking strike!

The brave and fearless soldier from that battlefield had returned.

Two of the Lead Wolf’s subordinates tried to intercept the blow but were driven back by warning shots from Dismas. The saber bit deep into the Lead Wolf’s right arm, where there was no Fish Scale Armor to protect it, carving out a wound that exposed the bone.

The Lead Wolf let out a pained howl and kicked the captain away as he struggled to wrench his Great Shield free.

Losing his support, the captain’s body toppled backward. Gazing up at the azure sky, in his final moment, he reclaimed the honor of an Imperial soldier.

Lance, however, cared little for such glory. After reloading, he continued to fire at the Barbarians. He wanted to use these last moments to inflict as much damage as possible and weaken the enemy. They were still so fierce even after being shot; he didn’t want to drag things out and risk complications. Only when the enemy is dead can I feel at ease.

Dismas, having also reloaded, aimed and fired at the Barbarians as well.

However, reality proved disappointing. The Lead Wolf had recovered, raising his Great Shield to protect his two subordinates. All the bullets ricocheted off with metallic clangs.

"Over there!" the Lead Wolf shouted, then charged towards Lance’s position.

Previously, he could wield his Great Shield with one hand, but now he needed both to keep it steady. The captain’s attack and the gunshot wound had clearly taken their toll.

"Don’t engage them directly!" Lance ordered his team. "Let them bleed out. I don’t believe they can keep this up indefinitely."

Everything has its price, Lance thought. If these Barbarians were really that powerful, they wouldn’t have been driven into the wilds by the Empire, and their Mercenary Corps wouldn’t have been decimated. So, this state of theirs can’t last. It’s like status buffs in a game; they weaken over time before vanishing.

As the Lead Wolf and his men closed in, Lance led his team to create some distance.

The Lead Wolf, however, seemed to realize their tactic. He stopped his pursuit and instead veered off, running towards a dense thicket nearby.

Lance cursed silently. Damn it! He realized the Lead Wolf had seen through his ruse.

But he couldn’t let them escape. Though only three remained, they had already formed a blood feud. Letting them go now would be like releasing a tiger back into the mountains—courting future disaster.

"Charge! Take them down!" Lance yelled, surging from the middle of the group to the very front.

Reynard and Balistan were much slower. Lance had to keep the Lead Wolf engaged to buy them time.

Dismas, lightly equipped, also rushed forward.

The moment their eyes met, the battle reignited without a single superfluous word.

Everyone was fighting desperately, simply to survive in this damnable world.

Two Barbarians, under the Lead Wolf’s protection, charged out. It seemed they intended to sacrifice themselves to delay Lance and Dismas, giving their leader a chance to escape.

It was a touching display, but Lance had no intention of indulging in sentimentality. He raised his gun and fired.

At a distance of fewer than ten paces, the shot was swift and true.

Firing that first shot, Lance closed the distance before his opponent could react.

Knowing his Short Sword would struggle to pierce their armor, he didn’t even try to use it. Instead, he kicked the Barbarian powerfully, sending him sprawling.

In the next instant, Lance darted past, chasing after the Lead Wolf.

"Stay here!" Lance yelled. "It’s time to settle this blood debt!"