Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 537 - 334: Restraint_1

Boudica's recent strike had felt exhilarating, but underestimating the enemy had ensnared her in their encirclement.

Even Dismas's reminders couldn't alter the tide of battle against those dark, reaching claws.

At that moment, a hook flew out, wrapping precisely around an outstretched arm. When the rope went taut, the sudden pull made the enemy stagger, causing it to miss its prime opportunity to strike.

From the shadows emerged another figure, also from the Ascension Sect, wearing a helmet and bare-chested.

Boudica snapped to action, with not a hint of retreat in her. A backhanded thrust of her spear sliced open the stomach of her assailant.

But now, she could finally see the inhuman strength of these Heretics for herself.

From among the oozing blood grew unsightly flesh buds, and as the flesh fused back together, the wound healed quickly, explaining why her earlier attacks had been futile.

Another Heretic, having recovered, launched an attack, plunging Boudica once more into the thick of the fray.

But Tadiff was not just for show. A moment of distraction had previously led to Boudica's injury, making him somewhat embarrassed, and he was evidently set on redeeming himself now.

"Leave this one to me," Tadiff declared, maneuvering his hooked rope to mark his next opponent as the axe in his hands swung toward the Heretic Warrior.

Dismas hadn't fired a shot yet, not out of laziness or avoidance, but because he knew that in these battles against Heretics, there was usually a Heretic Wizard accompanying their squads.

The Lord had warned countless times that Wizards with Sorcery posed the greatest threat.

Without needing to be told, he understood that his task was to snipe these Wizards, but the dim tunnels hindered his vision from straying too far, and he was unwilling to fire rashly without a clear target.

"Damn it!" Dismas cursed, no longer daring to delay, and he charged forward, for his Short Sword was also a force to be reckoned with...

Another axe strike landed on the enemy before him. Had it been a regular Heretic, their bones would likely have been cleaved through, but this one merely suffered a minor flesh wound before the bone halted the blade.

"Fuck this shit!" Lance swore vehemently. Kicking out fiercely, he hit the Heretic in the abdomen with explosive force, sending it flying backward.

The axe lodged in the Heretic's body was ripped free, and the Heretic's wound started to heal rapidly.

Frowning at this sight, Lance felt increasingly dissatisfied with the meager power of these lighter weapons.

Dammit! Outside, it wouldn't matter if they could heal. A sword strike would either kill or cripple them. Once they were unable to resist, I would simply Sacrifice them, wiping them out completely. No Power of Flesh and Blood would matter then!

Unfortunately, a greatsword wasn't usable here, and the axe's killing power was obviously insufficient against these fast-healing Heretics.

Would I really have to be dragged into a war of attrition with the enemy?

Impossible!

Although Lance had sensed their special nature upon first contact, he didn't panic. Being pulled into the fray was just a test of these foes' capabilities.

To Lance, they were stronger than those elite Heretics but couldn't compare to those who had risen rapidly through the implantation of the 'Seed,' a clear result of numerous Flesh Rites inducing a qualitative change.

After finishing his analysis, Lance held nothing back. He produced a bottle and quickly poured its contents onto his axe.

The blade, already coated in fresh blood, absorbed the spilled powder immediately.

In that brief moment, the Heretic he had kicked away had recovered and, laughing maniacally, continued to attack Lance.

"Hahaha! Who dares to kill me?"

Lance showed no mercy, swinging his axe right into the enemy's face.

The blow split the face open, slicing the Heretic's nose in half, though the axe got stuck in the skull.

Without hesitation, Lance wrenched it out, drawing a gush of blood.

This injury might have seemed severe, but had it occurred earlier, it would have healed quickly.

However, this time the Heretic was not so fortunate. No new flesh buds sprouted on the wound; instead, blood kept seeping out.

The Heretic, still laughing, suddenly sensed something amiss and, forsaking its attack, reached up to touch its face.

"How... how can this be...?"

Fear, or maybe pain, surfaced once more in the brain corrupted by the Flesh Rite.

As the powder took effect, the Heretic felt pain and itching at the wound, as though insects were feasting on its flesh.

"AH... AH... AH-AH-AH..."

Indeed, this was what Lance had prepared for – the key to countering the stubborn regenerative abilities of the Flesh Monsters from the old clan – the Corpse Decomposition Spore.

Did they really think I would venture into this Beast Lair unprepared? That I wouldn't specifically target the most prized power of that old bastard?

They had truly underestimated me.

Rather than pressing the attack, Lance observed the effect of this strike, though he felt slightly dissatisfied.

At his request, Grendel had modified the substance, adding multiple layers of safeguards for safety but also severely curtailed many of its effects.

It lacked the dominating power to devour all flesh and blood like the Gangrenous Fungi nurtured in the hands of Witches or the rapid decomposition of flesh on corpses.

The current effect was enough to slow the Heretics' flesh from healing, essentially acting as a debuff that hindered their recovery while inflicting a bleeding status.