Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 199 The Massacre of the Commoner and Francesca's Shock

After leaving the forest where Francesca was, Wayne quickly boarded a magic flying carpet and flew towards the town center.

Of course, to prevent his identity from being revealed, he also wore a helmet to cover his face. Although witchers rarely use helmets, Master O. Henry still thoughtfully crafted one as a complete set of armor.

It was a closed knight's helmet, similar to that of the Middle Ages, with a Y-shaped opening that only revealed a narrow slit for the eyes and nose, making it impossible to see the face inside the helmet.

After putting on the helmet, Wayne rushed to the vicinity of the town square, where the once spacious square had now become a hellish execution ground.

The fifty or sixty surviving members of the non-human race had their hands and feet bound with ropes. Some women were stripped naked, while the elderly and children were tied together with ropes and carelessly abandoned on the ground like livestock to be slaughtered.

Some men who were captured for resisting were tied to upright wooden posts. Some were already dead, while others were still groaning in pain. Their bodies were covered in cuts from knives, and blood was flowing everywhere. They had clearly suffered a great deal of torture.

The entire square was filled with the unrestrained laughter of soldiers, the gloating and hysterical curses of the mob, and the pleas and curses of the bound and tortured inhuman races.

What is most infuriating is that in the center of the square, there are several rows of makeshift gallows made of wooden stakes, with five or six nooses hanging from each gallows. Although it is unknown how long this torture of the inhuman race has been going on, eight corpses are already hanging from those rows of gallows, their feet off the ground, their eyes rolled back, and their tongues sticking out. They have clearly been strangled to death.

A fat man who looked like a soldier captain was pulling a rope with a smug look on his face, sometimes taut and sometimes loose, torturing him as if he were teasing him.

At the other end of the rope was a young elven girl who was not yet an adult. The rope was tightly wrapped around the elven girl's neck. Due to suffocation and pain, the girl's eyes had rolled back, and she was standing on tiptoe, her face turning somewhat bluish-purple.

As he pulled on the rope, he shouted triumphantly:

"It is because of these damned elf bitches, dwarf bastards, halfling bastards that our land has been polluted and our sacred faith has been defiled, causing our country to suffer from disasters year after year, and causing diseases and famines to always surround us."

"Today, we will purify our land, purify our town, wipe out all the inhuman scum, and exterminate all these thieves, robbers, and scoundrels."

"When the time comes, we will distribute all of these bastards' wealth to our glorious townspeople. This is our rightful wealth, which these bastards obtained from us through dirty means. They do not deserve this money."

Hearing that the soldiers' captain was going to divide the money, the mob, still immersed in the thrill of violence, became even more excited, letting out wild roars as if what they had done was not a heinous crime like murder and arson, but a heroic act worthy of praise.

Receiving a response from the crowd, the fat soldier captain became even more excited. He let out a triumphant laugh, tightened the rope in his hands, and pulled the elven girl off the gallows, her hands gripping the noose around her neck, struggling desperately in her death throes.

Just then, with a loud crash as a heavy object fell to the ground, Wayne, clad in heavy armor, leaped down from the magic carpet and landed beside the fat soldier captain like a divine being descending from the heavens.

There was no persuasion, no cursing, and no verbal communication.

Just as everyone was shocked by the armored knight who suddenly appeared out of the sky, Wayne's magic longsword instantly severed the fat man's head.

Before the fat captain of the guards could even utter a sound, his head rolled to the ground, blood gushing from his neck. The ropes he was holding loosened, allowing the elven girl who had been noosened to escape.

After killing one soldier, Wayne didn't stop. With his left hand, clad in adamantite gauntlet, he clenched his fist and punched a soldier on his right in the face.

The immense force and the hard metal arm armor punched the soldier's face, leaving a dent. Red, white, and yellow, unidentified liquids splattered out. He staggered back several meters, fell backward, and quickly lost consciousness.

After killing two people, Wayne's magical longsword did not stop. As he spun to dodge the attack of a charging soldier, the blade instantly slit the soldier's throat, causing him to fall to the ground. He could only clutch his bleeding throat like a shrimp, letting out desperate gasps.

From the moment he fell to the moment he killed, only four or five seconds passed. He killed three people in a row. When Wayne stood up again, his figure was covered in blood. The mob and soldiers who were still immersed in violent fantasies were also awakened by the sudden appearance of the enemy.

Some people screamed in terror, some roared hysterically, and a group of people immediately charged at Wayne with their weapons in hand without saying a word.

As Wayne faced the soldiers and mobs rushing towards him, he sneered inwardly. Although he would not use signs to reveal his identity as a Witcher, unlike other Witchers, he had countless attack methods, all of which came from another world. Even if he used these moves, he was not worried about being discovered by others.

Seeing the enemies in front of him who had gone mad, Wayne showed no mercy and swung his right hand, which was adorned with a spatial bracelet, toward the direction from which the largest number of people were charging.

As his magic was activated, a red gem on the bracelet immediately emitted a faint glow before quickly going out.

After the glow went out, a huge magical thundercloud appeared out of thin air above the soldiers and rioters at a speed visible to the naked eye. It not only encompassed the soldiers and rioters, but also shrouded many houses behind them in this thundercloud.

The thunderclouds churned and rolled, and a great deal of lightning was brewing within them.

A dozen seconds later, to the horror of the mortals, hundreds of bolts of lightning, accompanied by deafening thunder, rained down from the thunderclouds.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Click! Click! Click!

The massive flash of lightning instantly illuminated the square as if it were daytime, and within a minute, the hundreds of bolts of lightning blasted a third of the soldiers and mob into charred corpses.

Even many houses behind this group were directly blasted through by lightning, causing a large amount of fire and collapse, and many houses were set ablaze.

This is a sixth-circle spell, Thundercloud Storm, an area-of-effect spell used to deal with large numbers of enemies.

To be honest, it's a bit of a waste to use this level of spell to deal with these low-level mobs. However, for Wayne, the three-day cooldown is a good opportunity to use it against these trash.

After the thunder and lightning, the entire square was filled with wails, and the aroma of roasted meat and the stench of excrement quickly filled the air.

Not only the mob and soldiers in the town, but even the non-human survivors tied up in the center of the square were stunned.

As ordinary people, they had never witnessed the true power of a spellcaster. Most of the stories about warlocks and mages were just legends, appearing only in dreams and rumors, and they never imagined that they would happen to themselves.

Some of the first mob and soldiers to come to their senses immediately began to shout in terror.

"It's an evil sorcerer, a wizard!"

"A wizard has come to slaughter civilians! Quick, someone, go and kill that wizard!"

As their shouts roused those still immersed in fear and panic, some immediately turned and fled, lacking the courage to confront the mysterious and unpredictable magic.

Meanwhile, another group went berserk. Ignoring the danger around them, they grabbed their weapons and charged at Wayne as if they had gone mad, as if they could kill him as soon as they got close.

Most people, however, are timid, fearful, hesitant, and observing.

They hoped someone would take the lead in killing Wayne, the wizard, but they were afraid of the danger and dared not carry out the operation themselves. With only about a hundred people left on their side, they did not want to run away and even doubted that everything they had just seen was just their own illusion.

However, regardless of what these mobs and soldiers thought, Wayne never considered showing mercy.

In his philosophy, if you can kill others, then being killed by others is a perfectly normal thing.

With this in mind, Wayne, burdened by his heavy armor, charged towards the hesitant, angry, or fearful crowd with the speed and terrifying momentum of a tiger descending a mountain.

When the two sides were only a dozen meters apart, the blue gem on Wayne's right bracelet flashed slightly again. In the eyes of the Cordwin soldiers, the knight, who was originally fully armored and looked like a raging beast, suddenly became a blur.

Then, in an instant, six identical shadows split off from his body, and seven terrifying knights who looked exactly the same charged into their crowd with an aura of one against a hundred.

Click! Click! Click!

Amidst the clash of swords, bloodshed, and wailing, neither the soldiers of Cordwin nor the town's rioters were equipped with sturdy armor by their king; their weapons were merely ordinary longswords, pitchforks, and spears.

What's even more terrifying is that these seven figures are not mere illusions; the swords in their hands are like the scythe of death, each strike capable of severing flesh and blood, leaving a trail of blood and taking away a terrified soul.

Slashing, punching, charging, and stomping—these terrifying knights, clad in hard armor, far surpassed ordinary humans in strength, speed, and stamina. Every attack they unleashed was exceptionally fierce and deadly. The seemingly numerous mob and soldiers appeared as cowardly and powerless lambs before these terrifying knights' attacks, crumbling at the slightest touch like ice melting under their deadly blows.

What's even more devastating is that even if some of the mob and soldiers fight back, their pitchforks and iron swords can't do any effective damage to the Dread Knight's dragon scale armor. They can only create a few sparks and scratches on the armor, then be injured in the arms by the huge recoil, and then be mercilessly killed by the sharp blade.

This was an unequal battle. Faced with the merciless demon hunters, this rabble of mobs and soldiers was wiped out in less than ten minutes, leaving more than a hundred corpses. The remaining poor wretches, driven by fear and the will to survive, scattered and fled into the town with their pants soaked with excrement and urine, not daring to look back.

The entire square was littered with severed limbs, heads, and corpses.

Wayne's gray dragon scale armor had long been stained red with blood.

He flicked the blood off his magic longsword and exhaled softly. This ordinary enchanted longsword had been chipped in many places by his immense power, and the hilt and blade were completely stained red with blood. Together with his dragon scale armor, it made him look like a death knight who had crawled out of hell.

But it must be said that the feeling of wanton killing just now did give Wayne a great sense of satisfaction. Perhaps in the past few years, although he had not taken the insults of these unruly people to heart, deep down he still had the urge to kill everyone like this.

What a bunch of scoundrels, they deserved it. If most demon hunters didn't have their own principles, those troublemakers who always made things difficult for them would have been wiped out long ago.

Wayne mentally grumbled a few times, then looked at the six mirror images standing next to him. He had to admit, the sixth-ring Mirror Image spell was indeed a very powerful magic.

With just one spell, six clones with half the strength of the original can be created. Although the clones cannot use powerful magic and can only rely on their own physical strength, and their existence time is only fifteen minutes, this spell is equivalent to increasing the strength of powerful warriors by three or four times within fifteen minutes.

It might not be that useful against skilled opponents, but it's an amazing skill for clearing out weaker opponents, and also a great way to show off.

After all, to a nobody, half the strength or the full strength makes no difference; they'll be instantly killed anyway.

After confirming that there were no more enemies putting up a fight, Wayne waved to his clone, simultaneously sending a mental message.

The clones, like soldiers, immediately arrived at the center of the square, where the inhuman races were still bound, and used their longswords to cut the ropes binding them.

However, faced with the blood-soaked, hellish clone, these civilian survivors of non-human races were equally terrified, fearing that Wayne would also turn his blade on them.

Just as Wayne was considering how to appease these terrified and helpless non-human civilians, the Rubik's Cube-like communicator he was holding in his arms suddenly crackled to life with Francesca's voice.

"Wayne, let me calm them down."

"While I'd love to say you did a great job, I have to say you went a little overboard."

The elven sorceress's voice was filled with shock and helplessness, yet it remained as melodious as ever.

"Killing nearly two hundred humans in one go, and using such unconventional methods and strange magic as you, will definitely attract the attention of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers."

"However, I still want to thank you; you did what I've always wanted to do."

"I also want to be like you, killing those scum who harm our compatriots without any scruples, but I can't do that."

"The higher-ups in the Warlock Brotherhood know me too well; they'll definitely be able to detect it if I use large-scale magic."

"Alright, just stay like this, don't say anything, and disguise yourself as a magical puppet knight."

"I'll handle the rest."

As Francesca's voice faded, a slender figure draped in a black cloak suddenly appeared before the inhuman races.

As she appeared, a disguised but equally melodious voice, spoken in Elvish, reached the ears of all the non-human races present.

"Fellow countrymen, don't worry, we will take you away from here."

(End of this chapter)