The defensive line at the eastern gate of the tribe was at its most perilous moment.
In direct combat, the injured Lance had no confidence in defeating Ludwig.
And passive defense...
It was so damn frustrating!
The treacherous Red Stone Clan's Hunting Corps didn't follow conventions at all.
Instead of a direct clash, they launched an all-out attack, forcing our final defensive line to disband on its own.
To defend...
or not to defend!
Lance's forehead was covered in cold sweat.
...
"Coward, huh?"
A voice neither heavy nor light drifted along with the wind.
Ludwig lifted his head with a sinister expression.
"Shut up, you bastard!"
"Ha ha, this time your head will definitely be on my list of a thousand slaughters."
Ludwig stood just beyond the throwing range of a Flying Axe, his teasing tone exceptionally cold.
He was eagerly anticipating the moment when the huge wall would crumble completely.
Seeing the frightened crowd was the time he was most intoxicated.
Awooo!
