Chapter 52 | Transmigrated Into a Poor Girl, Armed Myself With Heavy Armor

“Steel Tooth! Kill it!”

Hawk pointed at the massive figure rushing up toward them.

The werewolf dropped low.

Its knees bent, the muscles across its back swelling and flexing beneath its fur before it kicked off the ground and launched itself forward.

The monster had barely emerged from the stairwell when it slammed headlong into the massive wolf charging at full speed.

Boom!

The two towering figures collided with violent force.

The werewolf's claws raked across the creature's torso, sparks showering through the dim hall where claws met hard flesh.

Almost at the exact same moment, the monster retaliated.

Its ash-white arm swung sideways, fingers tearing across the werewolf's flank with a sound like ripping heavy cloth.

A mist of blood sprayed into the air as several parallel gashes ripped open along the werewolf's flank.

Yet in the very next second, the werewolf's wounds contracted and healed at a visible rate, new pink flesh smoothing over the tears.

Opening its massive jaws, the werewolf clamped down on the monster's neck, its fangs screeching agonizingly against the ash-white skin.

Simultaneously, the monster drove its palm straight into the werewolf's shoulder blade, drawing a trail of blood drops as it pulled back—only for the werewolf's flesh to mend itself once more.

The two beasts stood toe-to-toe, trading blows in a brutal frenzy—claws, bites, and body slams. Every single attack carried enough force to tear an ordinary human to shreds.

Nikus stood a few paces back, gripping his broadsword with both hands, the tip slightly raised.

His center of gravity lowered, ready to unleash a full-power slash at any moment.

Vera kept her eyes locked onto the ash-white monster, her brows furrowing tighter with every passing second.

Rosie hadn't joined the fray either.

Grasping her meteoric iron sword, her gaze shifted continuously between the battle and Hawk.

She had positioned herself well, about a dozen meters from both Hawk and the center of the fight—neither too close nor too far, giving her ample space to react the moment anyone made an unexpected move.

Hawk stood near the exit, whistle still clutched in his hand. He was watching the fight as well, though the backlit gloom made his scarred face hard to read.

“Nikus, aim for its joints!” Vera called out suddenly.

Nikus, who had been gathering his strength, moved instantly.

Taking a massive stride forward, he brought his broadsword around in a wide silver arc through the dim hall. Harnessing the full momentum of his body and spin, he struck fiercely at the monster's left knee joint.

The monster had just raised its left arm to block a claw swipe from the werewolf, leaving most of its weight planted on its left leg.

Crack!

A sharp crunch echoed from where the blade met the joint.

The monster's body lurched heavily to the left.

It tried to stabilize itself, but its center of gravity was already far beyond control.

Just then, a figure leapt out from the shadows near the catacomb entrance.

The green-skinned beastkin.

A streak of blood still stained his forehead from where he had hit the stone wall earlier, but the blow clearly hadn't knocked him out of the fight.

He raised his rusty warhammer high with both hands, throwing his entire body weight into a downward smash.

The hammerhead traced a short arc in the air before slamming down with crushing force.

Thud!

The monster's head sagged violently under the impact, the upper half of its skull caving inward.

It twitched, attempting to push itself back up.

The beastkin had already hoisted the hammer over his head once more, his waist twisting as every muscle in his body engaged at once.

The second blow fell.

Shatter!

A sound like shattering glass echoed through the hall.

The monster's body stiffened completely.

Its skin rapidly faded from ash-white to dull gray, and then its form began to disintegrate, crumbling into powder that rained down onto the floor.

The beastkin stood holding the end of the hammer's handle, its heavy head resting on the flagstones.

He stared down at the pile of ashes, remained silent for a few seconds, and then blurted, “Wh... what's this?”

Nikus raised his broadsword and took two paces forward, intending to inspect the ashes.

Just then—

“Look out!”

Rosie's voice barked out.

Nikus's muscles reacted the split second her warning registered.

Almost on pure instinct, he raised his broadsword vertically in front of his chest.

Clang!

A deafening metallic clash exploded off the blade.

The force of the impact drove Nikus backward several paces, his iron boots plowing two dark grooves into the floor.

Standing where he had just been was a dark gray figure.

The werewolf held the follow-through of its claw swipe, its crimson pupils locked dead onto Nikus.

Without pausing, it launched a second strike, its claws cutting parallel silver streaks through the air as they slashed toward the junction of Nikus's shoulder and upper arm.

Having barely blocked the first strike, Nikus hadn't fully recovered his stance and had no choice but to swing his broadsword sideways to intercept the claws again.

Another harsh screech of metal against claw echoed as he was forced back several more steps.

The werewolf's claws rained down relentlessly in alternating slashes. Every strike hit like a sledgehammer pounding an anvil, and Nikus's sword rang with violent metallic screeches at every block.

He was forced backward step by step.

Vera didn't rush to aid Nikus. Instead, she trained her repeating crossbow straight at Hawk near the entrance.

“Stop this! Call the werewolf off!”

“Miss Vera, this is an internal matter of the Kingdom of Norman,” Hawk said, his tone unhurried.

“I have orders to eliminate Nikus for his dereliction of duty. This has nothing to do with you.”

Swish.

Before his words even finished, a dagger flew straight for Hawk's face. He jerked his head violently to dodge it.

In the very next instant, a figure charged forward.

The henchman standing in front of Hawk didn't even have time to raise his weapon into a defensive guard before a cold, teal flash tore across his vision.

A head flew high into the air.

The headless corpse remained standing on the spot, still locked in its defensive posture.

Capitalizing on the momentum of her horizontal slash, Rosie seamlessly transitioned directly into an overhead vertical split.

The blade tip traced a sharp, lethal angle through the air, coming down squarely at Hawk's head.

She didn't waste a single breath on threats—she went straight for the kill.

Hawk's pupils constricted violently.

In such a short span of time, this girl's strength had grown far beyond anything he had anticipated.

However, the split second bought by his subordinate allowed him to barely twist his body aside at the ultimate moment.

The blade whistled past Hawk's left shoulder, missing his flesh by a hair's breadth.

Seizing the opening, Hawk pushed off his feet and backpedaled rapidly to create distance.

Meanwhile, his four remaining men launched a counterattack at once.

The closest one brought his longsword down with savage force toward Rosie's shoulder.

Viciousness flickered in his eyes; he had zero intention of showing mercy just because Rosie was a woman.

Rosie raised her sword, blocking the heavy strike with a crisp metallic clang.

With a flick of her wrist, her meteoric iron sword deflected his blade, then thrust forward in a fluid motion.

The point punctured just beneath the man's throat and burst through the back of his neck, drawing a spray of dark red liquid as she pulled it clear.

Without uttering a single sound, the man collapsed forward onto his knees before slumping sideways onto the floor.

The remaining three men closed in simultaneously from three directions, their swords sealing off her angles of attack.

Rather than taking the pincer attack head-on, Rosie pushed lightly off her toes to leap backward several paces, widening the gap between herself and the three blades. At the same time, she called out toward Vera:

“Vera, don't buy Hawk's words! Even if he is working for the royal family, why would he let us witnesses walk away alive?”

Vera's eyes flicked rapidly between Rosie and Hawk. In one fluid motion, her finger settled on the trigger as she raised her arm, aimed, and pulled.

The bolt sliced a short trajectory through the air and embedded itself squarely into the forehead of one of the three men.

The man holding the sword didn't even have time to utter a sound; with the bolt sunk deep into his temple, he pitched straight forward onto the floor.

Before the next man could react, a second bolt pinned itself into his eye socket.

Seeing the tide turn, the final henchman spun around to flee, only to take a bolt straight to the back of his head, crashing face-first to the stone with wide, lifeless eyes.