Without the slightest hesitation, Zoetter lowered his lance and charged. The galloping warhorse thundered across the ground, each step echoing with a deafening rumble.
Fast as lightning, Zoetter caught up to the fleeing boy in an instant. The long shaft was tucked under his arm, the spear tip radiating a bone-chilling cold.
The boy, still running for his life, had no idea what was happening.
A fierce wind roared past his ears. The sharp lance had already arrived. He had no chance to dodge—only a sudden chill spread across his back.
"Pshhk!"
The lance pierced straight through him without resistance. The boy was flung into the air like a kite with its string cut, sent flying far away before crashing heavily onto the ground.
"Excellent! Mighty as always, my lord!" the soldiers immediately cheered.
"..."
The woman in the white dress trembled all over. Rage surged within her as she clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
