Our Family Has Fallen

The Pigman Knight, now with a disabled Pork Trotter, could barely stand, rendering it no longer a threat to Lance.

But Lance didn’t underestimate it; he circled around the broken Pork Trotter and viciously thrust a Longsword into the pig’s rear to give it a rude awakening.

The Pigman felt a cold sensation followed by indescribable, intense pain, uncontrollably leaping up and howling in agony.

This time, Lance had thrust too deep and didn’t even have time to pull the Longsword out before the Pigman jumped, leaving the Longsword embedded inside.

But upon landing, the injured leg couldn’t support the impact and snapped at the wound, leaving it hanging by mere skin and Flesh.

The Pigman’s massive size made it difficult to topple, but also hindered its own movements, especially now.

If Lance moved, it moved, effectively running circles around it. No matter how formidable it was head-on, it couldn’t touch Lance in its blind spot.

Finally, with a piercing howl, the Pigman Knight attempted to flee in fear, but by then, Lance had no intention of letting it escape.

”Hmph, trying to run?” Lance said coldly, raising his hand to draw a musket and shooting its other Pork Trotter at the joint.

The Lead Bullet tore through Flesh and tendon, halting the Pigman Knight’s attempt to run. Its hindquarters dragged on the ground, supported only by its two front Pork Trotters.

Lance wasted no words, pulling the Longsword out. However, in doing so, he also dragged out excrement, which disgusted him.

Damn it, this Longsword is useless now.

An inexplicable rage surged within him. Lance took up the Longsword and plunged it in again fiercely, swearing, ”Stab me? Stab me? Still think you can stab me...?”

A vicious and inhumane slaughter began, confirming that those who crossed him rarely met a good end.

While Lance controlled the situation, Dismas and the others had dealt with the small fry. When they turned their attention back to Lance, they saw him cursing and repeatedly stabbing the Pigman Knight.

By now, the Pigman Knight was on its last breath. Its massive rear was a bloody mess, covered in wounds.

Lying on the ground, it no longer exuded the imposing aura it initially had and lacked even the strength to resist, only managing to issue mournful screams.

Witnessing this, they couldn’t help but feel a chill run down their spines.

Seemingly aware of their gazes, Lance put down the Longsword and spoke to divert their attention.

”As you’ve seen, these monsters appear large, but they have very obvious weaknesses. Once their legs are disabled, they can barely fight back.

However, the strength of a Pigman Knight is extraordinary. Even I can’t withstand it directly, so you must never engage them head-on.”

Lance offered this explanation for his actions; whether they believed him or not was another matter.

HUFF. Lance let out a breath, some of his anger dissipating. He no longer wanted to torment the creature and decided to end its suffering quickly.

But how to dispose of the corpse?

Lance knew this was a rare Elite monster. Paracelsus would definitely be pleased if I could bring it back to her.

But the problem was its size; my Exhibition Room was a bit too small...

Never mind. The Exhibition Room already had several relatively well-preserved corpses, enough for them to study for some time.

With proper preparations, I’ll have no trouble catching a better one later. This one’s rear end was completely mangled from my stabbing; it wouldn’t look presentable.

”Everyone, check if you’re injured,” Lance said, then raised his hand to Sacrifice the scattered corpses on the ground.

The Pigman Knight’s massive size didn’t grant Lance any special boons. All he received was more Spiritual Essence compared to other Pigmen, and that was precisely what he needed.

The Void devoured the corpses on the field, and Lance felt the Spiritual Essence suffusing him.

Only a dead Pigman is a good Pigman.

While he was dealing with the corpses, the others confirmed they were uninjured. In fact, having fought their way here, they had become familiar with the Pigmen’s tactics and knew how to counter them.

Emerging unscathed would be impossible for most groups, but Lance’s team was just that formidable.

”Good to hear everyone’s okay,” Lance said, pulling a torch from the wall and lifting it high to illuminate a larger area. ”The Map indicates there’s something special here. Let’s be careful.”

The area wasn’t very large, and soon Lance found something odd.

It was a thick stone pillar with strange patterns carved on it. A rope strung with several heads hung from it, rotting in the dim environment, their insides already hollow.

At the base of the pillar, skulls were piled high. Most had been reduced to white bone, while some were desiccated, covered only by a layer of blackened, dry skin. These were likely heads that had previously hung on the rope, discarded when new ones were added.

Indeed, conspicuous bloodstains formed a ring around the base of the pillar, likely accumulated over years from the dripping heads.

”What is this?” Dismas frowned, reaching with his Short Sword to prod the heads.

So many heads. Who knows how many people were killed to gather these?

”Don’t touch it!” Lance quickly called out, warning, ”There’s something wrong with it.”

Heeding the warning, Dismas hesitated then retracted his Short Sword, turning to the Lord to ask, ”What is it, my Lord?”