Our Family Has Fallen

Those looters probably never imagined what the situation was, and were stunned for a moment, which was enough to cost them their lives.

The heretics pounced like maddened beasts, showcasing the power blessed by the ancestor by directly knocking a person to the ground while simultaneously bowing down to bite.

The human teeth aren’t as sharp as beast fangs to pierce the prey’s skin, but human bite strength is indeed astonishing. These heretics, who have unleashed the limits of the flesh, tore flesh live from the bodies of those looters.

The looter came to and struggled desperately, but punches and kicks had no effect on them, for the blessed followers felt no pain.

”Ah! Ah ah! Ah!”

Just as arrogant as they were earlier, now their screams are just as miserable. The phrase ”devour alive” is the most authentic portrayal of them now.

Under the sudden surprise attack, these looters had no room to resist, whereas the woman pinned to the ground escaped harm.

When she saw the looter who had killed the child being clawed with countless bloody scars, his face and neck were directly bitten off in chunks, even the trachea was pulled out as he was bitten.

Clearly, he had already lost his life breath; he probably did not expect that the man-eater would be eaten...

”Ha... Hahaha!”

The woman got up, crawled over, and picked up the child on the ground, without shedding any tears, instead letting out a sinister laugh.

Suddenly, the heretic viciously tearing and biting the flesh, sucking the fresh blood, suddenly raised its head, showing a blood-stained ferocious face, directly locking onto the woman holding the child’s corpse...

Don’t attempt to trust that a heretic still has sanity; they attack indiscriminately, considering no difference between looters and common people, all are sacrifices for ascension.

Similar scenes were constantly happening in the town, as looters indulging in the revelry of violence collided with heretics emerging from the barns.

The looters initially thought they were facing a resistance force organized by the town, aiming to crush it completely and seize the town.

Heretics had no weapons, but most of those looters had none either.

Among these looters, not to mention the Barbarian Tribes, those Imperial People were also blood-stained mobs in their own right, unafraid to kill with their bare hands, quickly escalating into a chaotic melee as punches hit flesh.

But what all the looters did not anticipate was that the situation they imagined did not occur; these people didn’t collapse due to the lack of weapons.

Instead, the looters were instantly plunged into the fray upon contact, caught completely off guard.

It’s important to know that heretics are blessed with the ancestor’s flesh, granting them inhuman strength, immunity to pain, and powerful regenerative abilities.

Not to mention the most perverse part: the more killing means more blessings from the ancestor to grow even stronger.

They aren’t afraid of taking a few punches, indifferent to having arms ripped off, and breaking legs doesn’t hinder their movement—they’ll crawl over to bite you if they must.

If you get knocked to the ground, you’re basically done for in this environment; being injured means death.

In comparison, those Barbarian Tribes fared much better since they first scoured some weapons under Cunning Fox’s warning, though merely farm tools like pitchforks and machetes, the difference between having something and nothing is substantial, and they managed to kill some heretics.

But the problem lies in the heretics’ overwhelming ability, making exchanges with them entirely unworthy.

Because on the battlefield, whether they die or the enemy dies, as long as there’s death, the remaining heretics grow stronger.

This is why Lance either chooses not to fight, or must strike swiftly and decisively.

He could divide them, concentrate superior forces for a decisive extermination, or eliminate them from a distance without engagement—he just couldn’t be dragged into a protracted tug-of-war.

Clearly, these looters did not understand Hamlet’s specialties, most of the looters having scattered across the town during the earlier revelry, so they were the ones being divided.

Very quickly, those heretics became increasingly powerful as the looters struggled to sift them out, weaponry piercing hearts couldn’t kill them.

Such bizarre enemies plunged them into terror—the thrill of ravaging common folk swiftly faded, now they only wanted to leave.

”Run! Quick, run!”

Cunning Fox quickly realized the situation was wrong, knowing these were no ordinary people, and promptly led the team to escape.

Actually, it wasn’t impossible to continue fighting, but at this time, whoever ran slower was the rear guard.

Why risk your life over minimal loot?

These ruthless looters now seemed so fragile, running like headless chickens.

Indeed, these people were just adept at fighting when the odds were in their favor, losing fighting spirit once encountering resistance.

However, once they escaped outside, only forty to fifty emerged, not solely Barbarian Tribes but mixed in.

Others perhaps did not react, maybe became scapegoats, but no one cared about this detail—extreme excitement getting in, now trembling humiliation while escaping.

Cunning Fox looked back at the distance, his one eye filled with dread.

Over two hundred people, yet only this few managed to flee.

Without a tribe priest, he had no clue what the situation was, only certain of one thing—this place was eerie, as though cursed.

”Quickly leave, depart from here,” Cunning Fox withdrew his gaze, realizing they could only distance themselves before those monsters caught up.

Other looters also seemed affected emotionally,

”What the hell is wrong with this cursed place?”

”They’re not even human!”

”...”

”Damn it, I just took my pants off! If only I had a weapon, I alone could chop them down.”

A guy yelled, clearly dissatisfied with the situation, his words full of hostility.

Anyone would be grumpy upon sudden interruption, not to mention losing looted goods.

How embarrassing just then? They narrowly escaped with their lives intact, but it didn’t affect their bragging now, as they had managed to flee.

But at this instant, his voice abruptly stopped, those looters immediately sensed something off because something protruded from that man’s chest cavity.

In the dim light, a non-human black sharp claw was faintly visible piercing through, clutching a pulsating heart.

”Ah!”

A scream of terror echoed among the looters, knowing fear is contagious; they were already a group of clowns frightened by heretics, now chaos erupted.

Most looters had no understanding of the current situation, hadn’t seen the enemy, fleeing wildly like headless flies at the mere sound.

Upon hearing the scream, Cunning Fox turned his head to see, only to find a silhouette amid the firelight moving rapidly among the crowd, his one eye struggling to keep up.

Only in brief pauses could he discern the humanoid monster’s frenzied slaughter.

Every pause meant a looter being swallowed by darkness—Cunning Fox couldn’t even see how they were dying.

The immense oppression made Cunning Fox react instantly, running full speed without hesitation, leaving everything behind.

But suddenly, the cries vanished, prompting him to instinctively glance back to find only faint points of light remaining, with all looters missing, surrounding silence as if...

”Are you looking for me?”

Cunning Fox’s movements froze; he jerked around to see a towering figure standing before him.

His gaze fell upon dark iron armor, the surface seemingly randomly hammered by a craftsman, lightly uneven with irregular craters resembling a meteorite.

The upper portion of the breastplate was solid, while the lower half consisted of overlapping layers of armor, tendril-like structures filling seams, granting frontal defense without restricting movement.

The armor featured sharp-edged blades on forearm and shin guards, with sinister spikes on the shoulders and back.

At first glance, it exuded a towering heaviness, yet closer inspection revealed an aura of malevolent quality.

As his gaze rose, a ghastly sight unfolded...