Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 603 - 366: The Trend Has Passed_1

If the long-hafted Battle Axe in the Warwolf's hands was considered exaggerated and not suitable for the average person, then the sight of Lance pulling out the Giant Slayer, which towered even taller than a person, was even more outrageous.

Once the battle began, there was no fancy talk, just straight to action. As they charged towards each other, the distance between them vanished in a breath.

Enraged, the Warwolf had no intention of holding back, and neither did Lance, as both gripped their weapons with both hands and swung with all their might.

The next second, their weapons collided. The force of their full-powered strike was several times more explosive than before.

Space itself seemed to twist under the immense force. A wisp of white mist formed at the center, only to be instantly shattered as visible shockwaves radiated from the point of impact.

What followed was a massive roar, beyond the mere clash of metal; it resembled the furious peal of thunder. Those closer felt as if their heads had been struck, their eardrums throbbing painfully.

The few remaining white wolves whimpered, tucking their tails and scurrying away to distance themselves.

The exchange did not end with one side retreating as before. Instead, both weapons rebounded from the clash, and both fighters stood their ground, immovable.

However, they both stopped their attacks simultaneously, staring each other down, transitioning into a standoff.

The Warwolf gripped his Battle Axe tightly, surprised by the force feedback.

He had struck with his full power without any reservation, hoping to crush this despicable foe in one blow and demonstrate his strength to Grendel.

It was like the way a Wolf King in the pack would defeat other males to prove his power and then take all the females for his harem.

He had nice thoughts, but it never occurred to him that this seemingly frail opponent—Lance was more robust than the average man, but compared to the Warwolf's build, this description was warranted—could swing such a powerful weapon and unleash such force.

The Warwolf, roaming the mountains unhindered, had never felt this sensation, not even when facing the charge of Bastia's Cavalry, complete with their combined force of man and horse.

Lance was also assessing the Warwolf's strength, suspecting it was far greater than that of the Pigman Knights, let alone his own.

However, the Pigman Knight's lance concentrated its force at a single point, and only with the power converted from a charge could it send him flying.

Now, in the open field and with prior preparation—not to mention the disparity in weapons—Lance managed to withstand the onslaught, thanks to the weight of his greatsword. But he still suffered significant recoil; the soreness in his arm muscles attested to the enemy's fearsomeness.

Ever since reaching the Master rank, Lance had rarely found enemies who compelled him to fight all-out. Now, at last, he had met his match.

The pressure this Warwolf exerted on him was reminiscent of the Alpha Wolf he'd faced before. Had Lance not used his wits to wear him down, employed Abilities and firearms, and tackled him four against one—pulling out all the stops—he would have barely managed to kill him.

But his strength would not stagnate.

"You know, I killed that Alpha Wolf too. Before he died, he begged me like a dying dog not to kill him, but I still chopped off his head~"

Throughout his journey, the Warwolf had felt the hardship of his father leading their tribe out of decline and had come to profoundly understand his father's intentions. This caused his view of the man to change greatly, elevating his father's status in his heart considerably.

Moreover, whether the Warwolf had changed his view of his father, the Wolf King, or not, their father-son relationship was undeniable. Lance's taunting words, so demeaning to a wolf leader, instantly ignited the Warwolf's fury.

"You're courting death!"

Without further hesitation, he swung his Battle Axe, his wild and ferocious demeanor emitting a terrifying aura.

Lance, however, was utterly unfazed.

Why should he trouble himself by venturing into the Beast Lair?

The boons plundered from the Beast Lair were practically overflowing; he had been saving them precisely for this moment.

Bless! Strengthening!

Lance was not the type of fool to know there was a strength gap and still masochistically seek a beating, waiting until he was at death's door before empowering himself.

He had no taste for such masochistic wailing; he preferred the visceral pleasure of utterly crushing his enemies.

Feeling the warm current flowing within him, Lance's face twisted into a slightly maniacal grin as he roared back at the Warwolf.

"Then let's fight to our heart's content!"

The two figures collided once again—this was a battle between men.

Unrestrained, wild power was on full display. Both wielded heavy weapons with sweeping, powerful strikes, each collision erupting with exaggerated force.

The area of their battle was not one an ordinary person could approach. Even Grendel could not interfere, but she could dispose of those Barbarian warriors.

If I can't beat the Warwolf, can't I at least deal with you lot?

Raising her hand, she summoned verdant green thorns, feeling the need for a blood offering.

However, the One-Eyed Wolf King likewise dared not advance. So, it set its sights on Grendel, circling behind her while she was distracted, plotting another sneak attack.

But as it drew near, it suddenly sensed something amiss with the weeds underfoot.

"I've been waiting for you~"

Grendel turned to look, the surrounding plants alerting her to the enemy's arrival—this was nature's favor.

Previously, she had been too preoccupied with the Warwolf to divert her attention. But with the Warwolf now engaged, how could she possibly fail to notice?

Without wasting words, she wielded her Magic Wand, commanding the camouflaged Strangler Vines on the ground to sprout leaves and ensnare the One-Eyed creature.

However, the One-Eyed's strength was far beyond that of ordinary white wolves; its physique was nearly the size of a regular person.

The moment its stealthy posture shifted, it snapped the vines and leaped forward, lunging at Grendel with murderous intent.