Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 816 - 472: Where Is My Magic Wand?

Laura's words were clearly a reproach directed at the person in charge for not heeding her advice, but at this moment, no one was paying attention to her. This was because those at the rear of the team, who appeared to be workers, were in fact soldiers who had cooperated with the Eagle Flock and knew what that screeching signified.

But these people were never afraid; having battled the Barbarian Tribes before, why would they fear these wild men who were not much different?

The Barbarian Tribes at least had leather armor, while these bare-chested lunatics were just corpses in front of them.

The well-trained guards swiftly drew their weapons from the caravans, even dismantling the wagon railings to use as shields, forming a defensive line at a reasonable speed.

The fat man stepped out of the wagon, glancing at the peculiar men with little trace of panic in his eyes, merely raising the torch in his hand.

The warning from the Hawk gave the caravan a little time but wouldn't impede the movements of those peculiar men.

Taking advantage of the dusk's cover, they surged forward relentlessly, launching a fearless charge at the convoy.

The front-most part of the caravan bore the brunt of the attack. Facing those heretics waving sharp claws, the guards raised their plank-like shields in an organized manner to block them.

With just a ten or so seconds' warning, the two sides clashed, immediately followed by a series of dense thuds.

Indeed, the insane offensive of the heretics was actually held back by them.

Not everyone had shields. Some confident guards swung their swords and knives at the heretics, causing flesh and blood to splatter under the flickering torchlight, reflecting their cruel smiles as if finding enjoyment.

Not everyone could structure the soldiers' psyche like Lance nor offer lavish material rewards and vacations.

These soldiers, pushed by the Earl into fighting the Barbarian Tribes and who survived, had nothing left under the pressure of death but a craze for slaughter.

They immersed in this madness, as it was the only pain relief for their strained nerves.

But today, they were up against even crazier heretics.

Their swords caused grotesque wounds, but the response was not pained wails but vigorous and excited shouts.

"God, please watch over me!"

The guards watched the wounds heal visibly under the evil strength shrouding Hamlet, making their powers far surpass those of ordinary people.

The heretics then began their retaliation, swinging their sharp claws during the guards' brief stupor, effortlessly penetrating their bodies.

Even those holding wooden shields were pushed aside by the heretics' great strength, followed by the heretics ripping through flesh with their claws regardless of the short swords piercing them.

But in the next second, the heretics' wounds healed while the guards fell forever, their faces frozen in shock, not expecting such an outcome.

The situation, once relatively stable, hinted at collapse as heretics broke the lines and began to spread. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

These illogical heretics focused on the fattener's body, believing that sacrificing so much flesh would undoubtedly capture God's attention!

In some ways, Sect of Ascension believers discriminated against fat people, but no one would stand up for him when they came killing.

At that moment, the fat man raised the torch in his hand, then with a flick, it seemed as if he withdrew flames from above, tossing it towards the heretics.

A blaze suddenly surged, controlled as if devouring the approaching heretics, leaving visible burns on their bodies.

Flame Hand!

Laura pulled the bowstring but didn't release it, realizing this fat man was extraordinary — and indeed, it was proven.

He was a magician, one manipulating flames, and what he held wasn't a torch but a magic wand torch.

Such a skill, if discovered by the Church, would undoubtedly label him a blasphemer and lead to a trial by the Tribunal, Religious Tribunal, or similar groups.

Yet, under Count Bastia's protection, he survived and even undertook such important tasks.

But now wasn't the time for such thoughts, as the heretics burned by flames quickly had their charred skin crack and flake off.

This still didn't kill them.

"Whoosh!"

An arrow shot directly into an eye, instantly eliminating a heretic.

Laura finally took action as not taking a stand would have raised suspicion, and the heretics had already charged forth, lacking confidence to block them alone.

The bowstring in her hands vibrated, each arrow accurately striking the eyes and penetrating the brain.

"Chop off their heads!"

Having chopped through the Barbarian Tribes, these soldiers quickly realized the head was the heretics' weakness, and after finding the target, they broke out from the shock.

Swords and knives soon halted the retreat.

The magician raised the torch again, and flames directly poured into a heretic's nose, mouth, and eyes, burning its brain to charcoal, with steam rising from the helmet.

This time, he indeed didn't get back up.

Just as the magician was about to expand his accomplishments further, he suddenly howled in pain as if hit by an unseen force, with flames on the torch twisting and dimming, as if a breeze could extinguish it.

What just happened?

In the chaos of battle, few realized it was the enemy spellcaster's doing.

Noticing something amiss, Laura prepared to escape.