After all, while this fellow was hardly intelligent, he clearly possessed wisdom comparable to a human's. Since he understood that his opponent was fleeing, there was no way the Stitch Monster would let White Turtledove have his way.
By that logic, White Turtledove was truly a deeply calculating man.
When the mercenaries below saw that White Turtledove was dead, they immediately fell into disarray. How could the Stitch Monster spare the rest? It directly dealt with nearly all the remaining cannon fodder.
At this point, only seven or eight people remained in the field.
They had all gathered around Uther, watching the monster before them with extreme vigilance.
However, the monster let out a loud burp. "Ah, I don't feel like eating anymore! I'll just send you on your way!" As it spoke, the huge human mouth on its body began chanting. Uther immediately recognized it as a large-scale destructive spell. He roared, and the massive hammer in his hand flared with dazzling light. Then he hurled it with all his might.
The hammer left no discernible trajectory through the air; it seemed to strike the monster's enormous face almost instantly. The chant it had been halfway through was interrupted by the blow, and after throwing that hammer, Uther seemed utterly drained.
But unexpectedly, although the Stitch Monster's chant had stopped, another muttering voice rose up. It came from another one of the Stitch Monster's huge mouths. Of course, none of its dozens of mouths, above and below, were idle at the moment; they were all howling in agony. "Pain, pain, pain! I will make you sink into hell forever, you lowly mortal!"
Hearing the Stitch Monster scream so miserably, the mercenaries' faces took on grim expressions. A few seconds after the Stitch Monster began chanting with its other huge