Chapter 200: Slaughtering Mobs and Francesca's Shock

Leaving the forest where Francesca was, Geralt soon took the magic flying carpet and flew toward the center of the town.

Of course, to prevent identity leakage, he also wore a helmet that covered his face. Although witchers basically don't use helmets, as a complete set of armor, Master O'Henry still thoughtfully built one.

It was a closed knight helmet similar to the Middle Ages, with a Y-shaped opening, only revealing a thin slit of eyes and nose, making it impossible for people to see the face inside the helmet.

After putting on the helmet, Geralt arrived near the town square. There, the originally spacious square had now become a torture ground like hell.

The surviving fifty or sixty members of the non-human race were all tied up with ropes, some women were stripped of their clothes, and old people and children were strung together with ropes, like livestock waiting to be slaughtered, thrown on the ground at will.

There were also some men who were caught because of resistance, tied to some erected wooden pillars. Some had already died, and those who were still wailing in pain had many wounds cut on their bodies, and blood flowed all over the ground, obviously having suffered a lot of torture.

In the entire square, there were the unscrupulous laughter of soldiers, the gloating and hysterical curses of mobs, and the begging and curses of those non-human races who were tied up and tortured.

And what was most infuriating was that in the center of the square, several rows of makeshift gallows built from wooden stakes had been erected. Each gallows had five or six nooses hanging from it. Although it was unknown how long this torture of non-human races had been going on, eight corpses were already hanging from those rows of gallows. Their feet were off the ground, their eyes rolled back, and their tongues were lolling out long; they had clearly been strangled to death.

A fat man who looked like a soldier captain was proudly pulling a rope, sometimes tight, sometimes loose, torturing like teasing.

Tied to the other end of the rope was an underage elf girl. The rope was tightly looped around the elf girl's neck. Due to suffocation and pain, the girl's eyes had already rolled back, she was standing on tiptoe, and her complexion had turned somewhat blue and purple from holding her breath.

He pulled the rope while proudly calling and cursing: "It is because these damn elven bitches, dwarf bastards, halfling hybrids, polluted our land, tarnished our sacred faith, that our country has suffered disasters all year round, and that diseases and famines have always surrounded us."

"Today, we are going to purify our land, purify our town, kill all the non-human race bastards, and let these thieves, robbers, and rascals die."

"At that time, all the property of these bastards will be distributed to our glorious townspeople. This is the wealth we deserve. It was all obtained from us by these bastards through dirty means. They don't deserve to own this money."

Hearing that the soldier captain wanted to distribute money, those mobs who were still immersed in the excitement of violence were even more excited, and they made roars like wild beasts, as if what they were doing was not an evil act of killing and arson, but a feat worthy of praise.

And after getting the response from everyone, the fat soldier captain was even more excited. He made a triumphant laugh, used both hands to tighten the rope in his hand, pulled the elven girl on the gallows until her feet were off the ground, her hands died tightly grabbing the noose on her neck, and kept struggling to die.

And just at this time, accompanied by a loud noise of heavy objects falling to the ground, Geralt, wearing heavy armor, jumped down from the magic flying carpet and jumped to the side of the fat soldier captain like a god descending from heaven.

No persuasion, no cursing, and no verbal communication.

Just when everyone was shocked by the armored knight who suddenly fell from the sky, the magic longsword in Geralt's hand instantly cut off the fat man's head.

The fat guard captain didn't even have time to make any sound, his head rolled to the ground, his neck sprayed a lot of blood, and the rope held by his hands loosened, allowing the elven girl who was put on the noose to escape a disaster.

And after killing a soldier, Geralt's movements didn't stop at all. His left hand with the adamantine arm crossbow clenched into a fist and directly hit a soldier on the right in the face.

The huge force and the hard metal arm crossbow directly hit the soldier's face with a punch, causing it to sink in. Red, white, yellow, and unknown liquids splashed out. He staggered back a few meters, fell to the ground, and soon lost his breath.

And after killing two people in a row, the magic longsword in Geralt's hand still didn't stagnate. When he rotated to avoid the pounce of a rushing soldier, the blade instantly cut the soldier's throat, making him fall to the ground, only able to hold his constantly spraying throat like a shrimp, making a desperate inhalation sound.

From falling to killing, it only took four or five seconds, and he killed three people in a row. When Geralt stood still again, his figure was already stained with blood, and those mobs and soldiers who were still immersed in violent fantasies were also awakened by this sudden enemy.

Some people made terrified roars, some people started to roar hysterically, and a group of people immediately took the weapons in their hands without saying a word and rushed toward Geralt.

And facing these soldiers and mobs rushing toward him, Geralt sneered in his heart. Although he would not use Signs to expose his identity as a witcher, unlike other witchers, he had countless means of attack, and they all came from other worlds. Even if he used these moves, he didn't worry about being checked by others.

Looking at those enemies who had fallen into madness, Geralt didn't show any mercy. He waved his right hand with the space bracelet toward the direction where the most people rushed.

With his magic stimulation, a red gemstone on the bracelet immediately emitted a slight fluorescence, and then quickly extinguished.

And after the fluorescence extinguished, a huge magic thundercloud was generated out of thin air above the heads of those soldiers and mobs at a speed visible to the naked eye, not only including the soldiers and mobs, but even many houses behind them were shrouded under this thundercloud.

The thundercloud kept rolling, and a large amount of electric light kept brewing in the thundercloud.

Ten seconds later, in the terrified eyes of those mortals, hundreds of lightning bolts, accompanied by huge thunder, bombarded down from the thundercloud like raindrops.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The huge flash brought by the lightning instantly illuminated the square like daylight, and those hundreds of lightning bolts directly bombarded one-third of the soldiers and mobs into charred corpses in less than a minute.

Even many houses behind this group of people were directly pierced by lightning, causing a lot of fire and collapse, making many houses catch fire.

This is a sixth-circle spell, Thundercloud Storm, a group attack spell used to deal with a large number of enemies.

To be honest, using this level of spell to deal with these mobs with low combat effectiveness is a bit wasteful, but for Geralt, the three-day cooldown time is not used for nothing, just to deal with these garbage.

After the thundercloud lightning, the entire square was wailing, and the burnt smell of roasted meat and the stench of shit and urine quickly permeated.

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

As ordinary people, they had never seen the true power of a spellcaster. Those stories about sorcerers and mages were mostly legends, only appearing in dreams and other people's rumors, and they never thought they would appear on themselves.

Some of the mobs and soldiers who first came back to their senses immediately shouted in horror.

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

"A wizard has come to slaughter civilians! Come on, go kill that wizard." Accompanied by their shouting, those who were still immersed in fear and panic were awakened one after another. Some people turned and fled immediately. Facing mysterious magic, they had no courage to resist.

And another group of people fell into madness. They didn't care about the danger around them, took weapons, as if they were crazy, and rushed toward Geralt, as if as long as they rushed to Geralt's side, they could kill him.

And most people were shrinking, fearful, hesitant, and watching.

They hoped that someone could take the lead to kill Geralt, the wizard, but they were afraid of danger and didn't dare to execute this action themselves. And with about a hundred people left on their side, they didn't want to choose to escape, and even doubted that everything they just saw was just their hallucination.

However, regardless of the thoughts of these mobs and soldiers, Geralt never thought about showing mercy.

In his philosophy, you can slaughter others, so being slaughtered by others is also a very normal thing.

Holding such an idea, Geralt, burdened with heavy armor, rushed toward the crowd who were either hesitant, angry, or fearful with an extremely swift speed and a terrifying momentum like a tiger down the mountain.

And when the distance between the two sides was only ten meters left, the blue gemstone on Geralt's right hand bracelet flashed slightly again. In the eyes of those Kaedwen soldiers, the knight who was originally fully armored and like a violent beast suddenly became blurry.

Then six identical shadows split from his body, and seven terrifying knights who looked exactly the same rushed into their crowd with a momentum of one against a hundred.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Sword light and sword shadow, blood and wailing, whether it was Kaedwen's soldiers or the mobs in the town, their king did not equip them with hard armor, and even the weapons in their hands were just ordinary longswords, pitchforks, and spears.

And what is even more terrifying is that these seven figures, none of them are illusions. The sharp swords in their hands are like the scythes of death. Every sword can cut through flesh and blood, cutting blood, and taking away a terrified soul.

Slashing, fist bombing, charging, and trampling, these terrifying knights in hard armor, whether it is strength, speed, or physical strength, far exceed ordinary humans. No matter what kind of attack, it is extremely fierce and fatal. The mobs and soldiers who seem to be numerous in number seem to have become cowardly and incompetent lambs under the attack of these terrifying knights, and under these fatal attacks, they collapsed at the first touch like ice and snow melting.

And what is even more frustrating is that even if some people in the mobs and soldiers resisted hard, their pitchforks and iron swords hit the dragon-scale armor of the terrifying knights, but they could not cause any effective damage. They could only knock out a little spark and a little scratch on the armor, and then be injured by the huge reaction force, and then be mercilessly beheaded.

This is an unequal battle. Facing the witcher who didn't show mercy, this mob composed of mobs and soldiers died more than half in less than ten minutes, leaving more than a hundred corpses, and the remaining poor bugs fled into the town under the drive of fear and the desire to survive, not daring to look back.

Everywhere in the square were broken limbs and arms, rolling heads, and corpses all over the ground.

And the gray dragon-scale armor on Geralt's body had long been stained red with blood.

He shook the blood on the magic longsword, took a light breath. This ordinary enchanted longsword had already appeared many gaps under his huge power, and from the hilt to the blade, it had been completely stained red with blood, together with the dragon-scale armor on his body, making him look like a death knight crawling out of hell.

But I have to say, the feeling of wanton slaughter just now really made Geralt very happy. Perhaps in these few years, although he didn't take the scolding of these mobs to heart, deep in his heart, he also had the impulse to kill everyone like this.

What a shit mob, a bastard who deserves it. If it weren't for the fact that most witchers have their own principles, those mobs who always make things difficult for them would have been killed clean long ago.

Geralt complained a few words in his heart, and then looked at the six mirror clones standing with him. I have to say, the sixth-circle Mirror Image is really a very powerful magic.

Just one spell can create six clones with half the strength of the main body. Although the clones cannot use high-power magic and can mainly rely on their own physical strength, and the existence time is only fifteen minutes, this spell is simply to increase their strength by three or four times within fifteen minutes for powerful warriors.

Dealing with masters may not be of much use, but using it to deal with miscellaneous fish is simply a god-skill for clearing soldiers and a god-skill for pretending to be forced.

After all, for miscellaneous fish, half the strength and full strength are no different, anyway, they are all seconds.

After confirming that there were no resisting enemies on the field, Geralt waved his hand at his clones, and the intention in his mind was also conveyed.

Those clones were like soldiers, and immediately came to the side of the non-human races who were still tied up in the center of the square, and cut the ropes on their bodies with the longswords in their hands.

However, facing the clones covered in blood, like hell demons, these survivors of the non-human race were also very terrified, afraid that the butcher knife in Geralt's hand would also fall on them.

And just when Geralt was considering how to appease these terrified and helpless non-human race civilians, the Rubik's cube-like communicator he put in his arms suddenly sounded Francesca's voice.

"Geralt, let me appease them."

"Although I really want to say you did a good job, I have to say, you did a bit too much."

The elven sorceress's voice was shocked and helpless, but still pleasant.

"Killing nearly two hundred humans at once, and using unconventional ways like you, using strange magic, will definitely attract the investigation of the Sorcerers Brotherhood."

"However, I still want to thank you. You did what I have always wanted to do."

"I also want to be like you, killing the scum who harm our compatriots without scruples. However, I cannot do this."

"The high-level of the Sorcerers Brotherhood is too familiar with me. Once I use large-scale magic, they will definitely be able to detect it."

"Alright, just keep it like this, don't speak, and disguise yourself as a magic puppet knight."

"I will handle the rest."

As Francesca's voice fell, in front of those non-human races, a slender figure wearing a black cloak suddenly appeared.

At the same time she appeared, a pleasant voice that had been disguised but was equally pleasant was transmitted into the ears of all the non-human races present in the elven language.

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

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 201 =====