[Present Time]

Looking at the silver haired, deep blue eyed young man, Cressida’s heart almost leaped out from her chest.

She staggered backward, and her face turned ashen with pure terror. While she was trembling in fear, the men from the Slave Trade Guild stared at him with narrowed, wary eyes.

They merely looked at him for a moment before their gazes shifted to the eight undead servants approaching from both sides.

"Are they all undead servants?" one of them asked with a shaky, trembling voice.

No one responded to the question, as their expressions had already turned grim and grim. Two undead servants armed with Bronze Grade weapons had already been a tough nut to crack.

And now eight more had appeared from the shadows.

How could this be possible?

Slowly, fear crept down their spines, and their eyes became listless and hollow. Their palms turned sweaty, and many wanted to retreat, but all their escape routes had been completely blocked by the surrounding undead.

Just then, a Level 26 Berserker stepped forward with false bravado. "You do not have to worry," he said, his voice thick and deep, filled with forced confidence.

"Our reinforcements should be on their way. Perhaps they are already here watching us."

"Besides, how do we know if this is not just a scare tactic? These undead might be weaker than they look."

Listening to his words, the other men nodded, and their confidence returned gradually. Yet the nagging, primal feeling of dread in their hearts refused to disappear completely.

Thoren ignored the muscle headed Berserker and looked directly at Cressida. "Cressida, we meet once again. We have a lot to discuss," he said calmly.

When Cressida heard this, she shuddered down to her very core. She perfectly understood what sort of discussion this demon was speaking about.

She turned her head hastily and looked at the Slave Trade Guild men with desperate eyes.

"Save me," she shouted, tears streaking down her pale cheeks.

This time, she was not faking her terror. She was truly and genuinely terrified of the Grim Reaper. She had read the reports and knew how far this demon could go to achieve what he wanted.

More importantly, he was a cold, never forgiving devil. Since she had betrayed him, her fate was already sealed.

"Do not worry. With us here, nothing will happen to you," the Berserker said confidently, trying to reassure her.

"Form a defensive formation," he shouted to his men. "We just have to hold our ground until the reinforcements arrive."

The others nodded quickly and formed a defensive formation around Cressida, their weapons raised.

A thick, suffocating tension gripped the atmosphere. When the pedestrians saw the scene of the impending battle, they fled immediately from the area.

Even the Jackal Beastmen guards did not interfere in the battle. Some even stood in the distance to watch the humans fight among themselves.

To them, this was nothing but a form of free entertainment.

Looking at the hastily made defensive formation, Thoren’s expression did not change in the slightest.

In his mind, he only issued one simple command.

’Kill.’

Receiving the command, the slow moving undead servants seemed to be roused from their slumber.

Instantly, their countenances changed, and they became ferocious and deadly. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Whoosh.

The ten undead servants charged forward as one, creating an intimidating momentum that shook the air.

In the still, tense atmosphere, the only sound was the heavy, synchronized footsteps of the undead servants.

"Spell. Now!" The Berserker shouted urgently.

Cressida and the Level 25 Earth Sage did not need to be told twice.

Cressida cast a massive fireball toward the undead servants on the right, while the Earth Sage cast a spell that created a heavy, sturdy wall in front of the incoming undead servants on the left.

Boom! Bang!

On the right side, the undead servants did not even bat an eye at the incoming fireball. They simply swung their weapons in unison.

Swiss!

The fireball was split cleanly into two halves, with only a few flames grazing their black robes. But that did not stop their charge at all.

On the left, the situation was no different. The leading undead servant swung its sword, and the earth wall was cleaved into two crumbling pieces.

’This is impossible,’ many thought.

The Slave Trade men were stunned, and their eyes widened, almost popping out of their sockets.

Watching the undead rapidly covering the remaining distance, the Berserker had lost all his previous confidence as he screamed his next order.

"Shield!" he bellowed.

The Tank and Warrior reacted quickly, each moving their shields forward for protection.

When the undead were only a few feet from both sides, Thoren took a small silver bell from his inventory and shook it gently.

Ting!

The moment the bell’s chime resounded through the air, Cressida and the Slave Trade Guild men lost focus for a single heartbeat. Then their faces turned deathly pale.

The Tank and Warrior could not maintain their shield stance. Those raising their weapons faltered in their stances as well.

A single chime from the bell had destabilized them to their very core. Their heads became fuzzy and heavy, as if filled with lead.

Before they could even realize what was happening, the undead servants were right before them, their weapons raised high.

"Nooooooo," a Hunter screamed as he watched the cold, gleaming blade flash before his eyes.

Bang!

His body was split cleanly into two halves, blood splashing onto the muddy ground in a wide arc.

But the bloody battle was far from over. One after another, miserable screams echoed on the now quiet, death filled street.

Bodies fell like cut flowers, dropping to the ground in heaps of torn flesh and spilled blood.

The Jackal Beastmen who were watching the battle from a safe distance could not help but feel a cold shiver run down their spines.

They had always regarded humans as weak and spineless creatures, unworthy of respect. But watching this bloody slaughter unfold before their eyes, they felt something they had not felt for such a very long time.

Fear.

Real, primal fear of the human standing calmly amidst the carnage.

****

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