Chapter 162: Missile Flaying
Anse concentrated on spellcasting, firing three more Magic Missiles that whined through the air, causing the Werewolf Leader’s movements to halt abruptly as he raised his hands to protect his vitals.
He couldn’t dodge; Force Damage was more terrifying than Piercing Attack or Blunt Attack, and hitting vitals wasn’t something to take lightly.
After taking a hard hit, he hadn’t even caught his breath when another whistling sound came from beside his ear.
He tried to dodge into the wooden building nearby, but was blocked by the Owlbear, missing the timing.
“Woo woo woo…”
The piercing whining sounds merged into a continuous wave; one wave had just arrived when another followed, with almost no interval, as Magic Missile after Magic Missile rained down relentlessly.
Anse hovered in the air, his formal wear flapping loudly, maintaining unprecedented Concentration as Dragon Speech never ceased.
He only used First Ring Magic Missile, no Metamagic, no Spell Level Increase, casting at the fastest Casting Speed continuously, stable like a machine.
Three shots, four shots, five shots, six shots…
The Werewolf Leader dodged in a sorry state but could never escape the Magic Missile’s lock-on.
He looked up at Anse’s indifferent expression, feeling a heavy weight in his heart, a strong sense of pressure, inexplicably panicking.
“Whoosh—”
A Miniature Meteor rapidly crashed down, forcing the Werewolf Leader to retreat.
Illyas and Carissa teamed up to restrict the Werewolf Leader, not allowing him into the room to hide, forcing him to tank the Magic Missiles.
The Werewolf Leader wanted to slaughter the Guards, but was beaten down by the dense Missiles, unable to lift his head, with an Owlbear sticking to him nearby, leaving no time for anything else; he could only swing a randomly grabbed Door Panel or stolen Shield to block, but could only occasionally fend off a few Missiles.
Because Magic Missiles curve around obstacles or cover, unless fully protected, he could only rely on Reaction to actively smash the Shield into the Missiles, which was too difficult.
In just a few dozen seconds, the Werewolf Leader had taken twenty or thirty Magic Missiles, covered in blood, fur falling off in patches like he had alopecia areata, grotesque and bloody.
And the Missile airstrike from above continued without the slightest change in rhythm.
The Werewolf Leader finally became afraid; he didn’t know if he could hold out until the opponent’s Mana was depleted, but this Missile storm like death by a thousand cuts was too agonizing.
He turned and ran, faster than a warhorse, but still not faster than Fly enhanced by Air Elemental.
Anse stayed above his head the whole time, Magic Missiles steady as ever.
Casting Third or Fourth-Circle Spells while flying at high speed might be difficult, but First Ring Spells were too simple for him; this was the instinct from Innate Magic and various Feats.
Twelve shots, thirteen shots, fourteen shots…
The fleeing Werewolf Leader occasionally entered Residential Buildings to hide, but he didn’t dare stay; besides the Owlbear Pursuing, more and more Professionals were gathering around.
His arrogance was just venting after the plan failed; he didn’t dare stay in Dulag for real—slaughtering one or two hundred Guards wasn’t hard, but facing one or two hundred cunning Professionals was suicide.
Those Adventurers would use any means necessary.
But the anticipated situation hadn’t happened yet; a minor Sorcerer he looked down on had already broken his mentality.
He was confident he could dodge Fireball, but didn’t expect to be forced into a panicked flight by First Ring Magic Missiles. Years ago he could still escape from Stol, but now he had a Bad Omen feeling.
The City Gate was ahead, but his steps grew heavier, his body full of holes, leaving a trail of blood, his self-healing unable to stem the Life flowing away like water.
“Whoosh—”
A Miniature Meteor whistled down; his movements sluggish, the half Door Panel above his head was blasted apart, and his body was flung away.
Magic Missiles assaulted; he raised his hand to protect his head and face, letting the Missiles hit his chest, abdomen, and waist.
“Bang bang bang!”
One Missile tore open his tattered belly and shot into the abdominal cavity, bloating his stomach before it deflated again.
He roared in pain, flipped over and got up, but was caught by the arriving Owlbear, which swatted him down with one claw, sending the Shield flying from his hand.
“Roar—” The Owlbear roared, its voice full of glee.
In the air, three Magic Missiles slightly curved, tracking in and hitting almost simultaneously.
The Werewolf Leader hadn’t given up, staggering to his feet and looking at the City Gate dozens of meters away, throwing his head back in a wolf howl.
Howls immediately echoed from outside the city, as if responding to him.
The Owlbear heard it and leaped to block the City Gate.
Anse remained unmoved, waves of Magic Missiles shooting from his fingertips.
The Werewolf Leader’s body trembled from the hits, staggering dozens of meters before finally collapsing in front of the City Gate, eyes vacant.
As the who-knows-how-many-eth wave of Missiles descended, his body twitched a few times and went still, blood flowing along the ancient stone slabs, filling crevices and spreading outward.
【Target Death, gained 4130 Combat Experience】
‘That’s it? I just got started.’
Anse stopped spellcasting, smoothed his messy hair with a hand, feeling an urge to laugh wildly.
But there were too many people around; he forcibly restrained himself, though his mouth corners curved way up.
But he also knew Illyas and Carissa’s assistance was crucial; if the Werewolf had hidden in a house or crowd, it might have been hard to handle, with inestimable casualties.
The Werewolf Leader was dead, but the Combat wasn’t over.
He ascended higher, looking outside the city where Shadow Figures moved in the nearby Wilderness and woods, hiding who-knows-how-many people.
These should be the Werewolf Leader’s backup, coordinating with the Werewolves inside the city, but due to the sudden incident, they hadn’t had time to rendezvous with their companions.
‘Luckily I kept some Guards to seal the City Gate.’
Anse descended, pointing at the corpse on the ground and shouting: “Hang the Werewolf Leader’s corpse on the Flagpole for me, guard the City Gate, prohibit anyone from approaching.
The rest of you rescue the wounded, split people to support the City District Combat, quick, don’t daze, move!”
The people around snapped out of it, spirits lifted, moving under the Captain’s Command.
The watching Adventurers perked up upon hearing this, vaguely guessing something, and rushed off, eyes gleaming.
This New President was famously generous; they couldn’t miss the chance to earn Bounty.
Illyas flew over on her Flying Carpet, eyes concerned: “Are you okay? Sit on my Flying Carpet.”
“I’m fine.” Anse pressed his temple; Mana was still over a quarter left, and he felt his Status was decent.
“Then I’ll go help; you be careful.” Illyas cautioned and whooshed away.
Anse surveyed the area, then chased after a fleeing Werewolf.
Their preparations were thorough, with many Professionals and Silver Weapons, but the Werewolves’ Combat strength was strong; most battles hadn’t ended yet.
Desperate Werewolves went berserk, forcing even Elite Professionals to retreat.
Fortunately, it was daytime now; the city’s major Guilds and Adventurers reacted quickly, support arrived promptly, and casualties weren’t heavy.
Anse and Illyas flew fast and struck ruthlessly, handling Werewolves while Commanding Combat teams to support various spots, quickly stabilizing the situation.
Approaching Evening, the city gradually Quietened down.
Teams of Warriors and Adventurers carried wounded and corpses toward the Federation assembly, mostly elated; from the Result, it was a great victory.
Over a hundred Werewolves killed, all of decent Strength, including the Werewolf Leader who once escaped from Stol.
Anse was originally very happy too, gaining lots of Combat Experience to level up to 8, and eliminating a major threat.
But seeing those wounded, his mood grew heavy; he quickly had Quentin tally casualties, while treating those injured by Werewolves, including Commoners.
Scratches from Werewolves were okay, but bites could infect with Curse; if they couldn’t resist, they’d turn into Werewolves.
He first used Lay on Hands to heal the critically wounded, prioritizing Guards and Warriors.
Then he took out Holy Water, giving a sip to each person bitten by a Werewolf.
Holy Water contained positive energy blessings, which might work against the Curse; mainly, he had no better means—do what he could and leave it to fate.
