The Golem Mage

715: Military Rules Differently 2.

715: Military Rules Differently 2.

Butcher let his Peak Tier 5 aura descend upon the mage who had done the same to Agnes just a few seconds ago, but unlike the guard’s aura, his completely engulfed the mage, forcing him to his knees, as a spark of lightning crackled in the air from the sheer pressure of his mana.

“Don’t flatter yourself, even I find it beneath me to attack you, you’re nothing more than dirt in my eyes, and you don’t deserve the effort of my attack if not for the circumstances,” Butcher declared.

“Look at my axe, it’s stained with the blood of lifeforms from the second dimension that I’ve slain, there’s no way I would taint my weapon with the blood of a coward like you, who tries to flee from responsibilities at the first opportunity.”

“Instead of taking up arms and fighting alongside other mid rank mages, you try to run, and when that fails, you raise your blade against those holding the line, and protecting the retreat of the low tier citizens.”

“I want you to know that you deserve death a thousand times over, but this is wartime, and we need every hand we can get.

I’ll forgive your actions if you go to that healing lady from the Holy Grail Academy there, have your hand reattached, and join us in battle.

If not, don’t blame me for dirtying my axe with your blade,” Butcher warned, as the crowd of noblemen and high-level individuals, who had been waiting to see if the Tudor nobleman would get his chance, shrank back, feeling the overwhelming killing intent being radiating from Butcher.

Seeing Butcher appear, Agnes finally felt she could rest easy.

It was clear that this was Alec’s way of issuing orders, since butcher is connected to Alec mentally, he could receive mental messages to carry out Alec’s wishes when he was otherwise occupied.

Butcher’s presence assured her that Alec was aware of the situation, which made her feel more at ease.

“You dare direct killing intent toward me?” the guard sneered, his voice laced with arrogance despite the pain of his severed arm.

“You will face the full wrath of the Northern Kingdom for this insolence, I refuse to join the battle, and I won’t fight.

Clear the road immediately and let me escort the royal nobleman to safety.

If you do as I say and have a healer reattach my arm before it’s too late, I’ll overlook this insult.”

He glared at Butcher, his tone growing bolder.

“If not, don’t blame my lord for taking measures against you all once this Blood Moon War is over!”

The guard’s defiance and brazen use of the Tudor clan’s name caused a pale expression to creep across the fat nobleman’s face, the nobleman wasn’t oblivious; he had a sinking feeling that his guard’s usual intimidation tactics of using his clan’s name wouldn’t work this time.

Ordinarily, invoking the Tudor name was enough to make others cower, regardless of their strength.

It was a shield for his guards to bully the weak and bask in unearned authority.

But now, as the nobleman stared into Butcher’s unflinching, crackling eyes, he felt an unfamiliar chill, this golem didn’t care about their status, it had already attacked once, making its disregard for hierarchy crystal clear.

“You’ve refused the goodwill I’ve shown,” Butcher growled, his voice as cold and final as a tombstone.

“So there’s no reason to let someone like you live.

You’ve proven yourself worthless, and allowing you to fall into enemy hands would only make them stronger, consider this mercy.”

Butcher raised his electrified battle axe, arcs of lightning dancing between his weapon and hand, illuminating his imposing form.

“Wait!

You can’t kill me!

I’m—” the guard began to scream, but his words were cut short as the axe descended in a flash, slicing cleanly through the guard’s neck with surgical precision.

His severed head tumbled to the ground, and blood sprayed outward in a gruesome arc, splattering the trembling nobleman behind him.

The fat nobleman’s chubby body quaked as he instinctively averted his gaze, unwilling to meet Butcher’s eyes.

His breath hitched, and he stared at the ground, too terrified to utter a word, the weight of his fear bore down on him like a storm, and for the first time, his name and status felt like flimsy shields against the raw, unrelenting power before him.

The entire crowd of spectators was stunned by what they had just witnessed, they had expected the golem to intimidate or perhaps injure the guard due to his rejection, but no one had anticipated the swift and brutal execution, the guard had been given no chance to defend himself, his death unfolding in mere seconds.

But this was all according to Alec’s plan, it was Alec who had sent Butcher, and it was Alec who had given the order to eliminate the guard.

The purpose was clear: to send a stark warning to the crowd, especially those who might entertain thoughts of testing their limits or disrupting the evacuation process to get out first.

Alec had already observed the chaos at the other exits, while he didn’t care about the mismanagement in areas outside his control, he was determined that such disorder would not happen where his team was in charge, and if maintaining order meant making an example of a few troublemakers, so be it.

This time, the mage had become that example.

Alec had no patience for deserters in the middle of a life-or-death battle.

If they refused to fight, then they were better off eliminated as liabilities.

“Will you follow orders and move to the back of the line as instructed, or should I take matters into my own hands?” Butcher asked, his voice cold and unwavering, as he gripped his huge battle axe with both hands, splitting it into two one handed axes as arcs of lightning danced across the Axe blades.

He positioned one blade against the nobleman’s neck and the other against the surviving guard’s.

The nobleman raised his head to meet Butcher’s gaze, and the sight made his blood run cold, the golem’s expression was utterly devoid of mercy, and the nobleman knew this was no bluff.

Butcher would kill them both without hesitation.

For the first time in his life, the nobleman came face-to-face with the imminent threat of death.

“I’ll move!

I’ll move!” he shouted, his voice cracking in panic, he didn’t dare delay, terrified that hesitation would spell his doom, to him, the golem felt like a harbinger of death, its presence suffocating.

As he trudged to the back of the line, humiliation burned within him, people were pointing and laughing at his retreat, their mockery cutting deeper than any blade.

His face flushed with embarrassment, and he clenched his fists, silently cursing everyone Butcher and Alec for his humiliation.

But he dared not look back, not at Butcher, not at the crowd, he simply moved, the shame weighing heavy on his shoulders.

‘Once I get out of this, I’ll make sure Alec pays for this humiliation.

A mere mage from a mid tier clan dares to tarnish my dignity?

I’ll ensure his life becomes a living hell,’ the fat nobleman thought, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.