Chapter 52 - 52. To The Mouth Of Death (1/2)

Mack jumped to the front head first while slashing an acolyte.

With the impetus, he rolled on the ground and torn apart another acolyte leg.

While still rolling, Mack activated his flashbang runespell.

Mack stood up and a bright light flashed for a second on the battlefield again, as if a giant was using a kodak camera to record this beautiful battle.

Every acolyte in front of Mack went blind, and the warlocks didn't delay, heads begun to fall like drops announcing an incoming rain.

Mack raised his sword high and half a second later pointed to that mage.

He didn't forget his prom dance.

”Make him dance for me!”.

And not even a second later, two warlocks run while slashing their swords.

Mack looked around and saw that no warlock died until now.

The plan was working.

The mages are going to go insane today.

Mack blocked an acolyte with his left hand and sidestepped to evade another one.

His sword went up and two heads went down.

Mack's gaze went to that mage. Now on a full play. Like a monkey on a tipsy day.

Mack pulled his sword back and flexed his right arm all the way.

That mage only saw a sword coming his way and before he could even pray, his body was rolling on the plains.

Mack slowly walked to that mage and put his hand on the handle of the sword, still lunged at the mage right eye.

”Sorry to come late for the dance.”

Said Mack, placing his right foot on the mage's mouth and pushing the sword out of his skull.

Mack clicked his middle finger and the blood mist around him stopped.

The two warlocks didn't stop, and the killing continued. The more they killed, the more they advanced the tip of the formation.

Behind Mack, over forty were coming.

Those two were just the sharp point of the knife. The bests at close combat. And Mack, a freak.

~swish~

The blade was pushed out of that mage skull and Mack blocked an acolyte staff with his left hand.

Barely the blade left a warm body to once again feel the urge for another one.

Mack's sword didn't have a scabbard, his scabbard was the dead bodies of mages and acolytes.

Only the best of the best for his sword.

Mack kicked the acolyte leg, making him lose balance and in the next second maimed his right side with three blunt strikes of his sword.

Only pure and brutal force, no fancy movements.

The acolyte passed out without air in his lungs and Mack kicked him in the groins.

There is nothing so bad that can't go worst.