Bab 472: [472] Stefan Caraval.

Men, wearing ragged clothing and chipped blades, ran as the sound of hooves filled their charts with dread. They ran through the dense, lush forest, some choosing to hide behind the thick trees to deter the charge of the fearsome, muscular horses and the knights on top of them.

However, the poor few who had this thought were sliced apart, along with the trees. The tough bark and thickness of the tree providing no refuge, rather it had just accelerated their fates.

"Kill the heretics!"

A knight shouted, and horses sped up, as if they were enlightened, filled with an unknown power from his voice.

"Fuck!"

A bandit managed to say, as in the next moment a lance went through his chest, spreading the remains of his insides throughout the lush green grass, coloring it red.