Lending a hand

The tiger-shaped monster slammed its fist against the mercenary's raised shield. One or two blows were bearable, but the repeated heavy blows still caused the mercenary under the shield to let out a painful groan. His arm, which was bracing against the shield, trembled in pain, and his boots left a deep rut in the mud.

But he did not back down because behind him lay a man with four deep bloody scratches on his chest, who had lost consciousness. This was his childhood friend. The two grew up in the same village and even joined Lancelot's Mercenary Group together after they grew up. They always went on missions together and had a life-or-death friendship that they could entrust their backs to.

But just now, due to a moment of carelessness, the opponent was caught off guard by the monster during the attack and took a claw blow, falling to the ground unconscious.

"Hey... if you don't wake up soon, I'm going to steal all the money you've hidden. I know you hid under the tree next to the camp last time behind everyone's back."

"Didn't you say you'd go for drinks with me after this trip? If you don't get up soon, I'm going by myself!"

Even though he knew the other person was truly unconscious, he still held onto a sliver of hope that he could wake his childhood friend.

In the current situation, the surrounding mercenaries are all dealing with their own enemies, and no one can spare a hand to help them.

If I continue to be so passive, I will eventually follow in his footsteps.

"Damn it! How could you be so careless!"

"How could I face anyone after leaving you like this!"

He gritted his teeth, bent down slightly, and braced himself against the shield, intending to withstand the next attack.

But how much longer can I hold on?

Maybe I won't be able to handle it next time.

A flash of silver light appeared as the monster, about to unleash a claw attack, seemed to sense something, but before it could react, its head was severed by Lancelot's sword.

"Commander!"

Upon seeing the monster before them defeated, the mercenary let out a joyful shout.

Lancelot's appearance immediately put his mind at ease, and he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright? If you're alright, quickly stop the bleeding!"

"Oh oh!"

Lancelot spotted the man lying on the ground immediately. His childhood friend frowned; if he had arrived a few steps later, both of them might have ended up here today.

These two were long-time teammates who had followed him for years, and he didn't want them to just disappear without a trace.

After resolving their predicament, Lancelot didn't linger and immediately joined the chaotic battle.

There were probably only eleven or twelve tiger-shaped demons left that had charged at them, and they were all locked in a fierce battle with their own minions.

Starting with the closest creatures, he swiftly swung his longsword like a vengeful ghost, his figure flashing as he easily took their lives from behind.

In the blink of an eye, two more demons fell to his sword.

With the addition of this team's top combatant, the mercenaries' morale soared, even overpowering the monsters' offensive.

Once their enemies were eliminated, the mercenaries who were freed up would immediately rush to help their comrades who were still fighting. With the increase in numbers, this tactic of constantly adding fuel to the fire finally caused the monster to fall into a complete defeat. Slowly, the monster's loud roars became more and more faint, until only one remained.

It was surrounded by the crowd, completely cornered, with two short swords stuck in its body, looking badly wounded.

Just as it was about to make one last struggle, Lancelot's ghostly figure flashed behind it, and the cold Silver Sword slashed down along its neck, ending its life.

"Haha! It has to be the regimental commander!"

"Yes!"

The men around him offered a few words of flattery, but Lancelot paid them no heed. He glanced around, carefully assessing the casualties. Aside from four or five people suffering injuries of varying degrees, and a caravan member who died at the hands of a monster while fleeing, the battle had resulted in virtually no other losses. It was arguably the best outcome they had experienced so far. Thank goodness.

If there are any more staff losses, I'll really be in trouble.

Commander! Quick, get the medicine! Quick! Find the Priest! He's dying!

Lancelot, who had just breathed a slight sigh of relief, tensed up again upon hearing the shout. It was those two idiots from before! Ugh! They're such a handful. He sheathed his sword and rushed to the man's side, crouching down. Sure enough, he found the man's face as pale as a tissue, blood still flowing from the bloody scar on his chest, and his pupils gradually dilating. He was about to run out of breath.

"Commander, this..."

1

"Priest... but we didn't hire Priest for this trip..."

The man's face was full of resentment. He took the medicine his companion had brought and pressed it, along with the gauze, onto his childhood friend's body to stop the bleeding. But if he didn't receive treatment soon, death was only a matter of time.

Is there really no other way?

The current situation has even put Lancelot in a dilemma. If only I had known... if only I hadn't hesitated...

He clicked his tongue and froze on the spot for a moment.

A look of regret flashed across his face.

They did consider hiring Priest, but when they arrived in Weise, the Priest turned around and left as soon as they heard that their caravan was going to cross half of the North, not wanting to get involved at all.

They knew how dangerous the current situation was, and it was difficult to find someone to take on such a high-risk commission, not to mention that there weren't many Priest to begin with, and the requirements to become Priest were much more stringent than those for Mages.

They must possess innate talent to master the [Holy Scripture] and wield the Goddess's magic.

"Isn't there a little fellow in the caravan who knows medicine? Quickly, call him over!"

Lancelot seemed to have thought of something and suddenly shouted at the people who had gathered around him. But when he saw the gloomy expressions on their faces, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.

"Captain, it was him... He was just bitten to death by a monster..."

The hope that had just been ignited was ruthlessly extinguished, causing his mood to plummet to rock bottom. He remained silent for a long time. Suddenly, the man's childhood friend choked twice and then spat out a mouthful of blood, as if he had reached his limit.

"Wrong! Make way, saving lives is the priority!"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice rang out from behind Lancelot. He whirled around and saw a completely unfamiliar young man squeezing through the crowd. Who was this person?

I never sensed any living beings nearby.

Years of experience made him unconsciously tense at this moment, and his right hand unconsciously reached for the hilt of his sword.

Despite his wary expression, the boy seemed oblivious to his own actions and stubbornly squeezed to the side of the group. After seeing the injured man's terrible condition, he sighed inwardly and then took out a delicate little bottle from his person. Under the questioning gazes of the crowd, he unhesitatingly pulled out the stopper and was about to put it into the injured man's mouth.