The scene shifted to Leyndell, where the melee had been raging for some time.
The nobles' mansions were burning, while the commoners' windows remained tightly shut.
Radagon had only made it halfway when a group of uninvited guests blocked his path. Several Death Rite Birds were actually circling overhead, utterly overestimating themselves.
Radagon was anxious, extremely anxious! The greater the damage to Leyndell, the busier he would be afterward.
Those burned-down houses needed rebuilding, those half-dead, maddened nobles needed compensation, and those terrified commoners needed reassurance-just thinking about it gave him a headache.
Radagon had rushed out without even bringing a weapon, but he did not need one.
With his bare hands, he shaped a massive golden warhammer, so thick with holy power that it almost spilled over.
A bunch of creatures weak to holy damage actually dared to flit around in front of a holy powerhouse like him. They were asking to die.
He swung his hammer at the nearest Death Rite Bird. It let out a piercing shriek as its bones shattered. Seeing this, the others immediately scattered, tracing strange paths across the sky as they tried to attack simultaneously from different directions.
Radagon fought as he retreated, moving while he hammered the birds. He had not forgotten his priority. Godwyn was what mattered most.
Just as the Deathbirds stubbornly held Radagon up with their relentless harassment, the red-haired man found that Godwyn had unexpectedly walked straight into his trap.
A red Dragonbolt suddenly struck from afar.
Radagon instinctively raised his "left hand of god," forcibly stopping the ranged incantation in his palm.
Red lightning leaped between his fingers for an instant. With a sharp flick of his hand, the Red Lightning turned into golden motes and scattered.
Turning his head slightly, Radagon spotted the figure in the