Goblin Dependency-Chapter 200 - 117: Wretched Creature_3

Bennett didn’t really have high expectations in his heart.

If Adeline’s character was as rumored among adventurers, she would definitely not agree.

It wasn’t a big deal anyway.

Six against four,

their team was full of experienced "Evil Wolves", while on the other side only Adeline and Berg had combat power.

It would just take a bit more effort; there was still meat to eat.

A fierce gaze crossed over Adeline, looking at Abi behind her, who was holding a Wooden Shield.

The gaze only paused slightly.

That pale-faced rookie seemed to have been startled by something, suddenly shivering.

Almost dropped the Wooden Shield in his hand to the ground.

Just like those cowardly lambs huddling deep within the flock, burying their heads under the bodies of adult peers, as if this could evade external dangers.

"Boss, isn’t this kid scared to pee himself?"

Beside him, a companion’s teasing laughter was heard.

Bennett’s expression didn’t change.

In the howls of the Evil Wolves, the weak and timid lambs should be like this.

His gaze moved further back.

Looking at the black-haired young man walking straight towards them.

Suddenly frowning.

The other did not evade his gaze.

Just calmly looked at him, meeting his eyes.

Bennett didn’t find any of the fear or false composure that ought to appear.

In an instant, for some reason.

Those calm eyes, that deep blackness.

Suddenly reminded him of the black-armored army that destroyed his original life.

An intangible flame burst out from his heart, twisting and distorting thoughts and consciousness under its scorching.

An overly young face, among low level adventurers, also implied shallow experience and weak combat power.

Valuable and good armor, but only with some faint scratches on the surface, clearly not having been through intense battles.

Two swords, one long and one short, one even being a Wooden Sword.

Flashy and useless.

Probably heard from some clumsy Minstrel’s tales of heroics, thinking it cool.

Actually in combat, it’s useless.

Should be a "young master" from the city.

Thinking of this, seemingly recalled memories from when he was wandering.

Bennett’s mood instantly became a bit more gloomy.

The corners of his mouth curved to the sides fell silently, uneven yellow teeth clashed together.

The smile turned more ferocious.

He planned that when he made his move later, he wouldn’t rush to gut him right away.

After all, the wolves on the prairie didn’t always wait for the prey to stop breathing before biting.

Torturing, extracting information about his family from that kid’s mouth.

Then cleaning up completely.

Sending his family too...

"Aww—"

The eardrums vibrated, the long and piercing wolf howl penetrated the air, suddenly came from the air.

Interrupted Bennett’s thoughts.

It was a shrill wail produced by driving the body with exquisite skill, causing all the Strength to burst out in an instant and highly compressing the air.

No blink, no distraction.

In the sight, the young man who was originally approaching slowly suddenly disappeared from where he was.

In the air, only flying grass seeds and shattered leaves remained.

A sudden alarm sounded in his heart, indicating danger, the breath of death lingered on his nose.

Already aware something was wrong.

Bennett’s face was unable to retract its ferocious smile in time, a flash of survival instinct in his brain, stimulating the cerebral cortex, transmitted by neurons.

All the way down, trying to drive him to raise his arm, to block the Iron Sword in his hand in front of himself.

Yet at some moment, it abruptly stopped.

A sharp gray arc of iron, unknowingly, had already embedded in his neck.

The consciousness and body, like separated bones and flesh, in a physical sense, were cut off.

The world began to spin, the sky seemed to rain blood.

Bennett saw his own body and the empty space on his shoulder.

And a short iron-gray sword tip protruding from the blind spot of his vision.

Dizziness.

He subconsciously wanted to twist his neck, to look inward along the sword body.

And then he muddily realized that he seemed to have lost the ability to control his body.

Darkness, like a tide, engulfed the world before his eyes.

The fierce wolf howl, seeming to carry cold winds, kept echoing in his skull.

Thick tree roots grew out from the soil skyward, the dense treetops swaying in the wind, like the prairie basking in breezes during his childhood.

And only until this moment, Bennett let go of the stubbornness buried deep in his heart, never daring to bare it to the outside.

No longer faking, facing himself honestly.

Never was he some fierce wolf of the prairie, nor a timid but united sheep, nor the brave shepherd dog imagined.

He was just someone whose life was ruined by war,

an unworthy pathetic wretch.

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