Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 491 Two Main Forces
Opiros pulled his longsword from the body of the last sniper, his black cloak billowing in the air as if in water. He stepped onto the decorative railing at the edge of the roof, looking down at the battle on the street, and then frowned.

A total of six werewolves were killed.

The number of casualties was higher than he had imagined.

The members of the Friendship Society had not expected Conionne to launch such a sudden attack, nor had the werewolves anticipated that they would be so generally equipped with silver bullets. A delicate balance had been reached between the two sides without their knowledge.

But Opius didn't come to compete fairly; he came to win.

He saw that the combined forces of the three mad wizards, militia, and witchers made it difficult for the werewolves to get close, forcing them to hunt lone humans from the outside.

Apart from snipers, the remaining Weodi militia on the northern front were trained as battle infantry. This made them adept at changing formations but neglected aiming ability. However, they made up for their lack of accuracy with sheer numbers, which is the essence of battle infantry.

Allowing them to reload their ammunition while providing cover for each other, and then unleash another hail of bullets, poses a significant threat to the werewolves.

After all, they were using silver bullets.

Fortunately, the fear brought by the werewolves had not completely subsided. Many people's hands were trembling, making it difficult to load the ammunition quickly and accurately. The next salvo would not be fired for at least another minute.

Only a small number of people used breech-loading rifles, which allowed them to complete the firing and reloading process more quickly, but their numbers did not affect the overall situation.

He turned to look at Halcha, who and his nephews were also locked in a fierce battle with the monks and witchers. These were no ordinary people; some could use miracles to stop the werewolf's curse, others were skilled in swordsmanship, and they carried various potions that could enhance their physical abilities. If the stalemate continued, it might take until the last person died to destroy the magic cauldron brought by the Holy Grail Order.

But what's the point?

Opiros sheathed his longsword, then took a loaded but unfired rifle from the corpse beside him and aimed it at the ascetic who was controlling lightning and fighting the giant wolf Halcha.

On the shimmering, star-studded garment, countless tiny lightning bolts are generated and annihilated every second.

Halcha couldn't get close at all. Whenever the claws or fangs came within ten inches of the ascetic, the numerous lightning bolts, which came and went unpredictably, would strike him as if they were alive, too fast to dodge.

This power was not enough to seriously injure him, but it could make his body temporarily out of his control. Whenever this moment occurred, the ascetic would distance himself and take the opportunity to lash out with his lightning whip, scorching his hair and flesh.

The only way to weaken the ascetics' power is to stop the generator that transmits electrical energy.

But at this moment, no one was capable of this task. The power of the Holy Shroud weakened his men, and the Witcher and the militia held them tightly.

As Harcha pondered how to break the situation, he caught a glimpse of a figure on a high-rise building. He made up his mind and, without the slightest hesitation, pounced on the ascetic with all his might, the shadow enveloping the human.

Although the beast was powerful, it would soon be repelled by the holy angel's thunder, just as it had been before, the ascetic Lionier thought.

He stood there confidently, holding the source of his power.

This sense of comfort lasted until gunshots rang out from upstairs.

A silver bullet pierced the ascetic's head. Before he could react, the dense electric currents covering his body sensed the danger. They all converged, condensing into a bright serpent of light that leaped precisely to the upper right, melting through the incoming silver bullet.

At that very moment, the omnipresent lightning on the ascetic's body disappeared.

He could draw power back from the wires in just two seconds to restore his strength, but in this critical moment, two seconds was still too long.

The giant werewolf that Harcha had transformed into stood up, placed its claws on his shoulders, and with just a slight movement of its head, its fangs pierced through his neck. Then, it used its claws to forcefully press the corpse to the ground.

The militia continued to surge forward, attempting to fill the positions of the ascetics, while the messengers of the Holy Grail Order retreated once more.

Without looking at Halcha, who was right in front of him, Sesu pulled out a curved staff with gold inlay at both ends from the magic cauldron. He pointed the curved staff at Opiros, whose face was not visible above, and the magic power belonging to the Primarch school quickly took shape as he chanted.

Color, intense color, bursts forth from the tip of the stick.

It was as if a paint can had been spilled in water; green, yellow, blue—vibrant colors spread through the air. They were so clear and bright, like the colors of the sky and earth in the wild on a clear day. But it was night, and even with electric lights and torches around, these vibrant colors seemed out of place.

They rippled and spread, constantly altering the properties of the air, like a soft, colorful jellyfish spreading its tentacles to reach out to Opius.

"Do you think I can't defend against magic?"

Opiros's cold voice came from behind the jellyfish. Due to the spacing of the colors, even Saisu could not see what expression the other party had at that moment.

The next second, a rifle with a bayonet pierced through the colored curtain and shot over.

In a fit of shock and rage, Saisu swung his cane to deflect the incoming rifle, the remaining force sending it grazing the wizard's body before embedding itself deep in the ground.

The rippling colors transformed the air into water waves, constantly generating forces of different directions and magnitudes. Countless interferences weakened the power of the throw, which allowed Cesu to deflect Opiros's attack.

But this was just the beginning. More and more rifles with bayonets shot out from behind the colorful curtain. The moment Saisu sensed them, he gave up standing still. He jumped off the carriage and hid behind the magic cauldron. The rifles flying from above hit the carriage and the magic cauldron.

The violent tremors on the surface of the magic cauldron were felt directly by Saisu. He was not worried that it would be damaged. This strange object was engraved with many runes related to deflecting force and avoiding arrows, making it much safer than himself.

As expected, the rifles that hit the magic pot all veered off course.

However, not all attacks were ineffective.

Hissing and sizzling—

Three of the four horses pulling the cart were hit in the back by the javelin. They raised their front hooves high, let out a mournful cry, and then collapsed with a thud after this last struggle.

The enormous, colorful jellyfish continued to drift slowly through the air, heading in its predetermined direction. It passed through the upper part of the building, seemingly leaving no visible change to the old structure, but this did not mean it posed no threat. Its color gradually faded, indicating that the spell's power was dissipating.

Opius was no longer there; he stood on a neighboring high-rise building and suddenly roared to the sky.

The roar carried the power of law, enough to restrain the clan members who were on the verge of madness in battle. Upon hearing the roar, the wolf pack began to retreat in unison, including Halcha and his men who had already approached the Holy Grail Order.

The black tide receded, leaving behind corpses scattered everywhere and warriors still in a daze in the streets and alleys. Opiros's figure on the rooftop slowly retreated, disappearing from the sight of those who were watching him.

A total of forty-seven people died, including the newly revived characters, one mad wizard and five witchers.

Conionne's actions were like a black wind of death; even with silver bullets and the assistance of wizards, witchers, and monks on the Friendship side, their casualties were still terrifyingly high.

Even if they have already resisted, they would never want to do it again.

However, they eventually managed to drive away the wolves.

The militiamen exchanged weary, surprised, and bewildered glances. This legendary feat seemed like a dream, and many hadn't yet processed it. The demon hunters, however, didn't share such sentiments; they immediately sat or lay down to recover their energy. The mad wizard, on the other hand, began inhaling incense and taking potions, continuing his pursuit of a state of oblivion.

Ignoring the warriors who were either immersed in the joy of survival or resting in silence, Saisu listened intently. The faint "drumbeats" coming from the southwest made him change his expression drastically.

Conionai left not because he couldn't accept the losses, but to attack another battlefield!
While the werewolves were attacking the northern front, the western front, which the Holy Grail Order had recently passed through, was also attacked. Sesu had witnessed the defensive strength there and understood their capabilities. If the intensity of the attack there wasn't much less than here, then Conionne could easily take over the western front if she went there now.

There is no magic potion there that can bring the dead back to life, so the militia's will to fight will not be too strong.

He raised his hand and gave orders to his subordinates.

"Hatch the carriage with new horses, and head south, or west?" He was almost incoherent, because he had thought of even more possibilities as he spoke.

Conionai has already seen the power of the Magic Cauldrons; they may be waiting for him halfway there.

Saisu forgot that he still had his hand raised and stood there hesitating until several captains of the militia surrounded him and asked him to revive the dead, especially the commander, so that they would know what to do next.

After regaining his senses, Saisu did not refuse. He put down his cane and waved for his men to take over his work, dragging over the relatively intact corpses one by one. This was their job; even if something went wrong with the resurrected people, it would be a matter of daytime. During the day, they would return to their positions as honored guests, and these roughnecks wouldn't be able to cause them any trouble.

As for whether to support the South—he had realized that this was not his duty, at least not a duty that he had to risk his life to fulfill.

Some militiamen spun off to the rear of the position and went upstairs to check on the snipers and commanders.

Not everyone saw what happened on the roof.

Just when everyone thought they could finally take a breather, the militiamen who had gone upstairs pointed in the direction Conionnai had initially attacked and shouted something. People looked in the direction he was pointing and saw some simply dressed people who looked like local residents walking towards them.

The atmosphere, which had just relaxed, became tense again.

If the leader of the crowd wasn't a woman, the scene wouldn't be so noteworthy.

If the smiling woman standing at the front were clothed, the militiamen and superhumans wouldn't keep their eyes glued to her chest.

If she didn't have an extra breast, the terrible feeling wouldn't have descended upon everyone's heart.

Sesu couldn't see these approaching figures from his position, but someone relayed the scene. As a high-ranking disciple of the Primarchy, he immediately understood who this new opponent was, and he shouted:
"Everyone, keep at least seven feet apart! Don't gather together!"

When the Inquisition was still in operation, women with large moles or warts on their bodies were often judged as evil witches because of this feature and were burned alive at the stake. This cruel trial was precisely to eliminate witches with demonic breasts.

Humans have only two chest chambers; the third chest chamber is no ordinary thing. It can secrete magical milk to nourish unseen beings.
In short, any woman with three breasts is bound to be associated with the devil.

The followers of Ignat have arrived.