Silver Bottle Seventeen

Gilan led Lemei and Garken, continuing to skirt around the enemy's encirclement as they fled toward the other side.

Those tall, burly alchemical clay golems were formidable. Their bodies were slick and resilient; even when the female soldiers swung their longswords with all their strength, they could only carve wounds three fingers wide into them, splattering a few flecks of mud.

Even under siege, with their feet planted on the ground, the clay golems could continuously draw strength from the torrential rain and the wilderness, replenishing themselves and swiftly healing their wounds.

And their plain, unremarkable punches and kicks could often easily shatter the female soldiers' armor and beat them to death alive.

Thus, although there were only four or five clay golems, they still held the advantage against enemies ten times their number.

The clanging sounds of battle rang out without end.

Amid the pouring rain, the three of them swiftly moved through the forest.

Before long, they had left the battlefield far behind.

After all, the downpour was merely a weather phenomenon remotely triggered by Lady Macara through an alchemical array, so the area it covered was not large—only a few hundred meters in radius.

After leaving the rain zone, the three of them ran for some distance farther.

But Lemei and Garken were in poor physical condition. They were already panting after fleeing at full speed for only a short while. Soaked to the bone, they began to shiver.

Gilan had no choice but to lead them beneath a large boulder to rest for a moment.

"I... I need to wring out my skirt. It's so cold... and it's far too heavy. It makes running difficult."

The noble girl Lemei panted as she spoke to Gilan, her face flushed.

Gilan gave a hum and nodded.

Lemei then