Dylan loved the thrilling bloodshed as it unfolded before his eyes. He galloped on his horse, killing everything that crossed his path. He had never felt like this in the past hundred years. He felt alive. He felt rejuvenated. He could do this all day.It has been three days since he began his invasion, and he has ruined three towns so far. This is the fourth one he will destroy. And in each town he and his men had conquered, he left no survivor. All he did was station a few of his men in the town.At the downfall of a town, Dylan will send a message back to his hometown with a letter saying that he had conquered the town. In return, the elders of his territory will send strong men after the messenger he sent and station them at the fort that Dylan conquered.That's how Dylan loved doing his thing. With that, his men will rebuild the town, but under a new law, a new governor, and new behavior. The foundation will be what Dylan wants. It will be his path. By doing it that way, they wil

Rey Reed Smith has never felt so infuriated like this before. Ever since he had arrived in the Middle Land, he had never felt this urge to kill before. He had felt something else when he first fought in the arena, visited Dragon Island, and fought in the jousting lane. He had felt the strength of Lord Rey in his body. But this was different.Rey was sure that this wasn't the urge of the god that possessed him; it was his anger. The urge to kill, to avenge, and to make things right. He felt like going on a killing spree. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.They were supposed to be going through the other side of the woods, through the plain of Eos that was located between Ajax and Moab. But Rey had chosen this particular route when he sniffed the fresh scent of blood. At first, he wanted to ignore it, thinking that it was just some hunters hunting in the woods. When the scent became unbearable, followed by the scent of sulfur and brimstone, Rey decided to track the s

Linda Boston thought of different ways to get herself out of the mess she created. She ransacked her brain for something, but nothing came. Her memory was blank. She couldn't think of anything. When she failed to come up with something, she resigned herself to fate.Instantly, Linda Boston started blaming her for acting so quickly. She should have waited for the hellhound. She shouldn't have sneaked out of the tent. Even if she wanted to, she should have prepared herself. She should have gathered enough shelter to last her for three days, maybe even a week.Nonetheless, Linda Boston felt a little remorse for herself; she was concerned with the horse. She looked ahead to the horse spot, and she could see it snotting, its eyes freezing, and its face pale with a milky white substance. The horse started to freeze.Linda Boston blamed herself for not planning her journey very well. All the wolves that the hellhounds massacred at Moab had brought a lot of shelter, blankets, and food with th

Dylan winces in pain as one of his men tends to the wounds on his shoulder. The man sewed it and cut off the thread from the needles he was using before cleaning and plastering the wounds. After that, the man packed the equipment he used and walked away.Dylan readjusted himself in his sitting position and rested his back against the wall of the cave. As his back touches the cave wall, he moans and shakes his head in empathy for his life.Dylan could feel all the bones in his body broken, his solar plexus cracked, and his ribs scattered into different pieces underneath his flesh. Dylan could feel his wounds healing, but slowly. He had never had such an encounter in his life. It's the worst battle he ever fought.Everything was going smoothly for him until the hellhound appeared. He had been riding through village after village, destroying towns, massacring people, and crumbling their towns. He had been winning the war, earning the trust of his hundreds of men, and getting people to fe

Lost, alone, and afraid; the weary Dylan spots a distant light inside the dark cottage he found himself in. The cottage lurks, almost buried in the undergrowth, and strange and terrifying sights can be glimpsed through the ivy-encrusted windows.Standing a few feet away from Dylan was the witch herself. She was dressed in black tails, a top hat, a wand in one hand, black scandal, and well-cut hair. She was the perfect picture of a debonair, gentle woman and was assisted by three attractive young women.She flicked the short wand in her hand, and a white dove flew out. Gradually, the dove started growing in size, its feathers flapping hard, and it went straight for Dylan.On instinct, Dylan raised his palm to cover his eyes, but he was late by seconds. The dove slapped his face with its wing, and Dylan staggered back. He opened his eyes only to find himself in another place. He was now standing in a huge living room that was decorated with runes and sketches. But the room was empty. It