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The moment Jaxen grabbed Enkrid, his unsettling instincts kicked in.

“Crazy bastards.”

As soon as Lykanos, the thief bastard who didn’t even know his own mother, retreated, others rushed to fill the gap and attacked.

It was a trained movement. A promised strike to deal with such a situation.

The sound of blades cutting through the air reached his ears first.

Whoosh!

From when they had been waiting, figures dressed in black lunged forward with spears resembling blades.

Each one of them was a reckless charge, risking their lives in their swift attacks.

They were all aiming for a single point.

Heavy and quick strikes, attacks that burned their lives for a single slash.

Jaxen pulled Enkrid closer with his left hand and swung his sword with his right.

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