Sorcery Monarch

Chapter 92: Encircled

Chapter 92: Encircled

Whoosh!

A dark green Melf's Acid Arrow shot through the air, making a sharp whistling sound, and struck a troll right in the chest.

The severely injured troll staggered as Beelzebub stepped forward and swung his axe down on its neck.

The stench of troll blood filled the air as Beelzebub glanced at the still-sizzling wound on the troll's chest, feeling a chill deep in his heart.

"So this is the power of an arcanist? It's no less impressive than the warriors of the Eastern Empire..."

Beelzebub had initially thought that he and his kin would end up as cannon fodder in this battle, like so many others of their kind.

But instead, what awaited them was a strict training regimen, far more demanding than he had imagined.

What troubled Beelzebub the most was the old white-haired instructor.

Though frail and aged, the instructor possessed terrifying combat experience and technique.

After being beaten down a few times, Beelzebub had no choice but to follow his orders, restraining his kin and pushing them to train harder.

In the following training sessions, Beelzebub and the other barbarian soldiers received weapons and equipment of unprecedented quality.

When Beelzebub accepted the double-headed axe, a reward from Instructor Arnold for his successful training,

He was struck by a feeling he couldn't quite describe—something deep, something powerful.

The full set of metal armor and the finely crafted iron weapons seemed like treasures that only the bravest warriors in the barbarian army could earn.

Beelzebub had his doubts about why the lord was treating them so well.

Was it only to make them better cannon fodder?

But Arnold, the old instructor, gave him a surprising answer:

"Ha, never try to guess the intentions of a powerful, mysterious arcanist with your own limited understanding."

"Improving your strength and combat ability is the only way to repay the lord."

"Let me be blunt: even if you all tried to escape back to your homeland, you wouldn't live better lives than you do here."

Though the words stung, they left all the barbarian soldiers silent.

The lord who had bought them didn't bind them or throw them into prison; instead, he had given them more than they ever imagined possible.

Since then, Beelzebub and the others had settled into their new lives, putting aside their questions.

After all, they had already lost too much.

In Bay Village, they were placed into scattered families, each living apart but content with their stable, far better than their previous "wealthy" lives.

Not having to toil in the scorching sun and fierce winds, being able to feed their families—it was all they could have ever hoped for.

In fact, many of the barbarian soldiers felt a deep sense of fear and anxiety, pushing them to work harder in training, afraid that if they displeased the lord, they would lose this newfound life.

As a result, every barbarian soldier carried with them high morale and an unwavering determination to fight any enemy!

Bang!