"You've run out of places to hide, old orc." Number Six blocked Saurfang's path.
The deep alley north of the inn was piled with the bodies of orc soldiers. Saurfang was covered in wounds and blood.
Blood slowly dripped from his axe blade into the snow. It blurred his eyes, and he stood alone, with no one to help him.
To ensure that the troops assaulting the coastline could join up with Grom, Saurfang had volunteered to bring up the rear and hold off the forces sweeping in from the sea.
Rowan had sent his three senior stealth users deep into the war zone for one purpose: to catch a big fish.
Number Seven had obtained information from Durnholde's Second Column. The three of them had pursued Saurfang relentlessly, exhausting every means before finally cornering him.
White bone showed through Number Zero's wrist. Saurfang's precise Execute strike had snapped his long dagger.
Fortunately, Number Zero had enough strength to save his arm.
After seeing Number Zero wounded, Number Seven and Number Six fought with redoubled ferocity, attacking Saurfang as though they no longer cared whether they lived.
Even with his countless battles behind him, Saurfang could not hold off two enraged women. The fighting had already lasted two days, and his stamina was failing. His strength and speed could no longer keep up.
Seeing that Saurfang had no intention of surrendering, Number Six took several small smoke bombs from her pack and prepared to pierce his throat.
Number Zero's wrist had been given basic treatment and bandaged. After drinking a Seaside Healing Potion, he was out of danger.
Although his wrist would never return to its peak condition and his combat skills would suffer in the future, Number Zero remained optimistic. How could anyone stay invincible their whole life? If