8mi Chapter 15 Carnival
Chapter 15 Carnival
The battle briefly paused as the last enemy fell.
Klein was panting heavily, his strength almost completely exhausted, while Badar appeared completely at ease, holding his shotgun and cautiously looking around.
Anthony was wounded; a bullet had struck him squarely in the shoulder, and now he could only stagger backward, pistol in hand.
How many corpses were lying in the camp? He quickly counted them; there were ten corpses in total. Most of them were pitiful criminals wearing prison uniforms, or even shirtless, with no weapons or equipment on them. They had all been forced into the camp by that bastard Theodore to serve as cannon fodder.
Only a few were slightly armed raiders, who were more difficult to deal with, but he and Badar still managed to take them down.
Theodore emerged from the fog, humming a song.
He was followed by ten people.
Tall and robust, the ten men wore leather armor. Some carried modified firearms with longer barrels and larger magazines, and the buttstocks were wrapped with non-slip cloth strips. Others held sharp weapons. Their faces showed no fear, only a kind of manic joy.
The tenth man, who was also standing at the very end, wasn't carrying a weapon; he was simply struggling to lift a rather heavy-looking wooden bucket.
"Back off," Klein warned his companion coldly.
Anthony is injured, and now only the two of them are left guarding the camp. Continuing to hold out would be suicide.
The two retreated to the bushes behind the camp and each found a tree to use as cover.
Theodore's eyes swept across the camp, over the corpses on the ground, over Klein and Badr, and finally landed on the tent.
He walked over humming a song, his boots stepping over a pool of blood, kicking aside a corpse, entering the tent, and searching inside to find a wooden box.
The wooden crate wasn't locked, so he casually lifted it open, revealing neatly stacked medicines inside: hemostatic powder, anti-inflammatory agents, painkillers, and several bottles of injectable solution. The packaging bore the insignia of the Imperial Legion, indicating they were military supplies.
"Aren't you going to exchange it for some alcohol and cigarettes?" He kicked the box over, spilling medicine all over the ground. White pills rolled into the mud, and the packaging of the hemostatic powder cracked open, releasing powder into the air with a pungent medicinal smell. "Why is it all medicine? A bunch of boring guys."
Klein gritted his teeth, suppressing his anger.
"I respect this godforsaken place more than you do," Klein roared through gritted teeth. "Here, people die when they get sick; only these medicines can save them!"
Theodore looked toward the source of the voice, and a smile appeared on that ashen face—the kind of smile that comes from an adult looking at a child talking nonsense with a hint of pity.
"Respect?" he repeated, as if savoring the word.
"I respect it more than anyone else. The law of the jungle, that's the rule of the abyss. You live because you're strong enough, you die because you deserve to die, it's that simple."
He took a step forward, his boot shattering a medicine bottle, the glass shards embedding themselves in the mud.
"We're both going to die soon, little Klein, don't you understand? Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, we'll both die... bitten to death by fungal zombies? Eaten by wild beasts? Or burned or poisoned by those sons of bitches in the Empire, hahaha, what difference does it make?"
He took another step forward.
"So what? What's the point of hoarding all this medicine?" He tilted his head, his face a maniacal laugh in the firelight. "What we people really want is to have a good time before we die! To party! To drink the strongest liquor, to kill the people we want to kill, to do whatever we want!"
"carnival?"
A voice came from the shadows at the edge of the camp, clearly interrupting him.
Theodore turned his head in surprise.
Simon emerged from the shadows, a harpoon slung over his shoulder, the tip pointing backward, blood still dripping from the blade.
His face appeared very white in the firelight, but his eyes were dark and calm, carrying a subtle sense of intimidation.
"A wild party where you can do whatever you want?" He stroked his chin, as if pondering. "Besides bullying the weak, have you ever done anything that could be called a party?"
"They dare not challenge the empire's outposts, nor provoke stronger beasts, but only bully their own kind who have just entered the abyss. Can this be called a carnival? They are clearly just bullying the weak and fearing the strong, yet they pretend to be more enlightened and insightful than others and spout nonsense."
Simon's lips twitched, and he gave a helpless smile.
"How pathetic."
Want to debate with a scholar? He's dreaming.
Theodore's smile visibly melted away as he slowly tore off his facade, revealing his true, beastly nature.
The King of Sinners did not rely on that clumsy theory, but on real terror and intimidation. Just as Simon guessed, if he were no longer so bloodthirsty and insane, if he were no longer so violent and dangerous, then the sinners would not fear him, and his rule would inevitably collapse.
Next, facing these few who had offended him, he would surely display his madness, making the other sinners willingly submit in fear.
Theodore drew the dagger from his waist and pointed the blade at Simon in front of him.
"Kill them, and take all the indulgences and the flesh as evidence of their sins from the camp!"
bass--
The bowstring vibrated, and an arrow shot down from the tree, piercing through the mist and embedding itself in the back of the neck of the person on the far left.
The arrowhead pierced through the front of his throat, drawing a string of blood beads. The man opened his mouth as if to cry for help, but only gurgling sounds came from his throat. He struggled and fell to the ground.
"In the tree!" the enemy shouted, and the remaining men raised their guns and fired at the shadows in the tree canopy.
Mr. Bell leaped down from the treetops, his massive frame surprisingly agile. The bowstring vibrated again, and another arrow pierced a man's wrist with pinpoint accuracy. The gun fell from his hand, and the man clutched his wrist, screaming in agony. The second arrow followed immediately, pinning his foot to the ground, and the third struck him squarely between the eyebrows!
Two well-equipped enemies were instantly eliminated, and the others naturally wouldn't let such a golden opportunity pass them by...
Badar picked up his shotgun and fired a shot at an enemy, who was blasted away.
Klein's throwing knife slid from between his fingers and pierced a man's eye socket. Before the man fell, he pounced on him, pulled out the knife, and stabbed another enemy in the side of the neck.
Simon's gaze pierced through the chaotic battlefield and locked onto Theodore.
Shoot people first, shoot horses, and capture thieves first.
Those subordinates who are united by violence and fear will immediately collapse into a disorganized mess once they witness the death of their leader.
He put down his harpoon and, instead of entering the main battlefield, slowly crept over from the shadows at the edge of the camp.
His subordinates fell one after another, but the "King of Sinners" grew stronger with each battle.
Baseness was in Theodore's blood. He used his companion as a shield to block a shot, then fired back from behind the corpse. Badar was shot in the shoulder, let out a muffled groan, and laughed maniacally from behind the body.
The title of King of Sinners is not undeserved; he possesses the strength to live up to it.
"You want to take my life? Then come on!"
He ducked sharply, dodging a deadly shot. Three throwing knives pierced his arm, but he paid no heed. His left hand thrust out a dagger from a tricky angle, stabbing Klein in the abdomen. He then punched Klein to the ground and fired several shots with his right hand at the human figure in the shadows, forcing Bell to retreat.
He held his own against three opponents.
But at that moment, he subconsciously turned his head, and a figure kept growing larger in front of him!
Simon, wielding a harpoon, cut into the battlefield from the flank at the most crucial moment!
Without the slightest hesitation, the sharp blade of the harpoon slashed down fiercely, like the blade of a guillotine, about to sever Theodore's head!