The Adventurer's Mission Log

Chapter 8 Clash

Before the sharp command could even be given, a deep shadow line swiftly slashed towards Tenor.

There was simply no time to react.

But the magic vanished the moment it touched Tenor and merely cut through his outer robe.

The amulet pendant on my chest was slightly warm; it had broken the spell.

Tenor decisively awakened his bestial nature, and with the creaking sound of clothes unable to bear the weight, a lizardman replaced the human.

Before he could even think about the loss of his new clothes, he suddenly grabbed Dolly, who hadn't had time to react, and pulled hard.

There was no difficulty whatsoever; the bones were crushed, and red and white splattered everywhere.

Tenor turned and fled. He was outnumbered and outmatched, and he knew he couldn't possibly defeat so many demon worshippers.

The succubus screamed, "Stop it!" As the mechanism clicked, the passage seemed to close.

Of course, no one wanted to let Tenor go. They were all prominent figures, and if Tenor exposed them, even if he could suppress public opinion, it would still have a negative impact.

"Praise be to Salish!" they screamed, uttering blasphemous incantations.

This is bad!

Despite his predicament, Tenor did not panic. He swept away the three wealthy merchants who were chasing him with a flick of his tail.

The latter slammed into the tables and chairs like a sandbag, his bones cracking and popping, yet he writhed up like a snake, completely unaffected by the blow that could kill an ordinary person.

Another demon worshipper rushed forward, preferring to be struck by Tenor's claws rather than let him touch Tenor's scales.

The moment the touch occurred, Tenor suddenly stiffened; the unnatural pleasure nearly broke his alienated state.

But perhaps due to the magical amulet, or perhaps because this alien race had a high resistance to such mental spells, he returned to normal in an instant.

The demon worshippers launched an attack immediately afterward. Tenor used his crown to knock away the fools who tried to block the steps. He used both hands and tails, ignoring the sharp weapons that struck his scales, and used offense as defense. Like the most efficient killing machine, he made it difficult for the cultists to get close for a moment.

"Useless!" With a curse from the banshee on the main seat, all the followers were lashed hard by the whip in the void, letting out screams of agony or groans of pleasure.

The whip, made entirely of chaotic energy, also struck Tenor. He tried to ignore it, but couldn't help but roar in pain as the whip touched his body.

The pain did not break his consciousness; on the contrary, it seemed to arouse his ferocity, and his beastly side completely erupted.

He stopped running away, turned around and pounced on the nearest demon cultist, biting her neck to pieces. Then he got up, grabbed the next unfortunate victim, and tore her to shreds with his claws.

Even the demon worshippers were intimidated by this invulnerable monster. The warriors who had intended to fight it retreated in unison, wanting to wait for their companions to make the first move.

The others clearly thought the same way. One person retreating could be considered "agile," but a group of people waiting for an opportunity to strike would be considered a rout.

If they weren't afraid of death, they could surely have dismantled Tenor into pieces, but they were clearly not heroes, or perhaps—their beliefs regarded self-preservation as a virtue.

As a result, some people took the opportunity to kick someone when they were down, and with a wicked grin, they pushed their former comrades to the forefront, causing their colleagues to be torn off their heads by the ferocious and cold-blooded creatures in the blink of an eye.

His head rolled to the ground, and before Tenor crushed it with his foot, he was still shrilly cursing the bastard who had wronged him.

Tenor struggled to regain his senses. He didn't have much time left to maintain his alienated form and couldn't afford to waste any more time. He had to escape to the ground as soon as possible.

He focused his mind and noticed that the task was already completed, so he directly chose to accept it.

At the same time, the nobleman in the main seat had already risen, drawn his rapier from the shadows, and flew over as fast as a blur.

A club covered in barbs, seemingly made of obsidian, appeared in Tenor's right hand. Despite wondering why it was considered a sword, he seized the opportunity and slammed the club down on the afterimage.

Tenor immediately realized why it was called the "Burning Sword." It was indeed some kind of rough stone sword, with a heat emanating from its blade, and sparks flew when it was swung.

The half-demon nimbly veered off course, dodging the blows, and with terrifying speed, pierced Tenor's right hand as if it were nothing, leaving the thick scales as if they were nothing.

The sword tip retreated like a venomous snake, and Tenor didn't even have a chance to catch it.

The mere stab wound should have been a minor injury, but it caused Tenor so much pain that he could barely grip his weapon.

Perhaps some kind of magic amplified the pain.

He realized that the human part was merely an obstacle at this point, and began to actively pursue the other half.

Disgust and rage replaced the weak perception of pain.

As the half-demon appeared behind him like a ghost, attempting to pierce his body, he swept his tail across, forcing it back, and then suddenly burst forth with instantaneous speed, turning around and pouncing like a giant python.

Just as the stick was about to graz the half-demon's body, a short incantation was heard, and the half-demon and an unfortunate fellow instantly switched places.

The half-male, half-female freak was instantly covered in blood and flesh, its body slammed heavily to the ground, twisted and deformed, and its wounds still emitted a burnt smell.

Then a short incantation was heard, ending in a high-pitched tone, as the sorcerers who had been hiding in the back completed their magic.

A sharp pendulum suddenly appeared out of thin air and, under the command of the sorcerers, swung rapidly toward Tenor.

Before he could dodge, a sharp pain sent him flying against the wall like a rag doll.

Just as the believers were about to press their advantage and seize the credit, they discovered that the bloodied and mangled lizardman was getting up as if nothing had happened.

Tenor was already at his limit; the magic amulet was clearly no match for such a powerful spell. The fact that he was able to get up was a testament to his tenacious will to live.

He picked up his weapon, knowing he might have to stay there.

He could maintain his freakish posture for another ten seconds. Since he couldn't escape, he might as well take a few more people down with him before he died!

"Hurry up! It can't hold on any longer!" someone shouted.

Everyone knows this fact, but nobody wants to be the first to die.

Until the succubus commanded with undeniable authority: "Seize it!"

"Boom!" A loud explosion came from above.

Tenor initially thought it was a spell cast by a demon worshipper, but the resulting explosion that caused the ground to shake violently was clearly unexpected.

A young, blond man dressed in a scholar's robe and chainmail burst out from the dusty staircase; the runes on his sword revealed his identity—a Ronan knight.

Behind the man followed a scarred, burly man with a bearskin cloak and an elf drawing a bow and shooting an arrow.

"Heretics! In the name of Hermes! Let the end be judged by the family of de Nordroy!"

Taking advantage of the chaos they created, Tenor rushed towards the stairs to escape.

Unexpectedly, the "knight" uttered a spell, and a large-scale flash explosion briefly blinded Tenor and the demon worshipper who hadn't closed his eyes in time.

Tenor tried to continue using his hearing, smell, and special senses, but he realized that the knight had brought a lot of people with him. Within his senses, there were 12 fully armed adventurers coming down the stairs, making it impossible to break through.

Judging from the appearance of an adventure team, if he runs away at this time, he will definitely be regarded as an accomplice of heretics.

When Tenor returned to human form, the burning sword in his hand became less wieldy—it was just a short stick in his mutated state, but it was a thick spiked club nearly 1.5 meters long.

Fortunately, his strength had increased after the mutation, and he could still barely swing the solid heavy club.

He endured his injuries and turned to attack the nearest demon worshipper. Seemingly recognizing an ally, a green light fell upon him. Although weakened by the magical amulet, it stopped the bleeding and allowed his wounds to begin to scab over.