In the group melee of the tournament, situations where many fight against one are not uncommon.
In fact, it happens in almost every match, which is no exaggeration.
However, multiple fighters in a match is quite different from a chaotic joint assassination.
In a match, even if several people simultaneously see the threat of a powerful competitor, agreeing to take him out first, wouldn’t those who haven’t reached an agreement cause havoc?
Within the venue, the distance between the combat circles is sometimes just a step apart.
In the end, it would still evolve into a situation where it’s impossible to use absolute numerical superiority to attack a strong opponent.
Simply put, multiple fighters against one does exist and is allowed.
Because such situations don’t escalate into cheating or match-fixing.
But now Robert knows very well that what he faces is not within the rules.
A total of eight warriors and mercenaries with dusty faces subtly surround the position where Robert stands.
Five of them approach Robert directly, while three others drive away participants who inadvertently move closer during fights.
Their coordination is evident, and their weapons are uniformly standardized.
Just these two features show Robert he is facing a professional team trying to kill him, not a chaotic skirmish.
Sweat starts seeping from his palm inside the gauntlet, and his fingernails rub against the hammer handle as they open and close, "swish swish" sound.
Robert knows full well that in the chaos of the arena, even spectators on high platforms can’t notice the current change in situation.
And shouting out loud?
The shouts and cries of hundreds are enough to drown any meaningful words into a few meaningless cries.
Robert, while lowering his center of gravity, feels a thrill inside.
Very dangerous, with eight clearly organized and skilled professionals trying to kill him in this chaotic arena.
But at this moment, Robert also feels utmost exhilaration.
Yes, what he always wanted was not some joke-like ’competition’... but a truly deadly battlefield!
Inside his helmet, Robert’s eyes are focused. He mutters to himself.
"Five plus three, armor-piercing daggers paired with one-handed weapons. If Edd is attentive enough on the platform, he’d notice the situation is off within a minute. It would take time to organize guards to charge in, surpassing over a hundred bloodthirsty contestants... I have to hold out for at least five minutes! No, incorrect..."
The suppressed laughter in his stout throat grows larger, more excited.
"It’s me who has five minutes... to kill all you clowns! Haha! Haha!"
The war hammer and battle cry roar in the wind.
Robert does not turn and flee but instead charges straight at the assassin in front of him!
The assassin is shocked that this ’fat pig King’ has the guts for a counter-charge under such circumstances.
He and his companion, wielding a one-handed sword and an armor-piercing dagger, both lunge at the enormous figure!
With a signature curse, Robert’s swinging war hammer directly knocks the thrusting one-handed sword aside.
Though the war hammer didn’t smash the swordsman, the sword had been deflected toward the arm holding the armor-piercing dagger.
In Robert’s view, this is already considered solving one.
The guy’s low-quality chain mail would probably shatter under this blow. An assassin with a crippled arm, surviving in this chaotic arena would be considered lucky enough, let alone killing.
Then, Robert’s round belly slightly twists in direction.
The other assassin’s armor-piercing dagger, originally stabbed towards the connection of the armor’s side abdomen, scrapes off course along the round arc of Robert’s armored belly.
The armor front bears a deep scratch, but the massive war hammer, carrying ample kinetic energy, has reached the intended position.
The hammer crashes down from a diagonal upward direction, directly lodging into the assassin’s shoulder socket!
The crisp sound of bone shattering is compressed into one sound, from beneath the assassin’s skin, even clavicle fragments are visible bulging due to deformation!
Blood sprays like a fountain from the assassin’s mouth.
The body collapses and goes limp.
"Aha! Two down, six left... Ugh!"
Before Robert can laugh, a piercing pain from his rear waist changes his voice’s tone.
Beneath the antler helmet, the King suddenly widens his eyes, instinctively swinging the war hammer awkwardly behind.
Enemies are driven away, and the feeling of iron separating from flesh, the blood starts flowing.
"Not deep, but at this position, the one who stabbed me..."
Robert’s fat saved him, preventing the dagger blade from penetrating organs.
But observing the situation upon turning, he is surprised to discover the one stabbing his waist, none other than the assassin he deemed ’lost threat’!
At this point, the assassin expressionlessly tugs at the sleeve of his chain mail.
Underneath the first chain mail layer damaged earlier by his own wayward sword blade, is leather armor inlayed with steel plates at key areas!
Damn it, this is a different level of difficulty!
Robert’s eyes beneath the helmet narrow, glancing quickly towards the platform.
There, Edd has already sensed something amiss, and is anxiously yelling at the "Fearless" Balistan.
Think in just a few more minutes, the Golden Robes and the Royal Forest Iron Guard responsible for the King’s safety will breach into the arena.
The eyes beneath the antler helmet keenly surveil around, the remaining assassins have tightened the encirclement.
Robert now regains a bit of his old battlefield vibe, but his body has been idle for over a decade, and he gained several dozen kilos of cumbersome fat.
Now, all the enemy needs to do is lure him into swinging the hammer, at worst sacrifice one of their men.
When the force in his hammer exhausts, swinging to its angle limit, this group could charge into the hammer’s inner circle and pin him in the middle, merrily stabbing with daggers.
Situation does not seem optimistic.
Robert licks his lips.
At that moment, he notices that young swordsman who helped Edd, slowly getting closer to their encirclement from behind.
That silver-haired lad seems unaware of any group melee match tension.
Even now, he hasn’t drawn the two swords on his back!
Earlier, the assassins already drove away nearby combat, in the short term, they assumed no one would interfere.
So the remaining seven all surround Robert.
Lann walks toward them from behind, raising his right hand to the steel sword hilt behind.
"Click" a light sound, the scabbard’s spring opens, the blade smoothly and steadily slides out like flowing water.
Robert lifts his head slightly, wanting to inform Lann that these people are not only wearing the visibly inferior chain mail, hacking it won’t work.
But before he can speak, the assassins seem to sense his movement, and the remaining seven charge forward!
Simultaneously, from their rear, Lann twists his waist with force, contorting his upper body to the extreme, laying the sword flat.
Feet taut, body spiraling with power, the whole body like a fully drawn spring.
Then a swift, crisp silver flash cuts through!
Three tightly positioned assassins, a straight silver flash slices away their upper bodies.
The three split into six parts.
Even the residual sword wind pressure carries blood bursting out of their bodies, splashing onto the other assassins.
The scorching fresh blood and sword wind make several stop abruptly, frozen in place.
Lann stands straight behind the remains, flicking away remnants on his sword, looking up at Robert.
"You seemed like you wanted to say something just now?"
Robert under the helmet stunned momentarily, then swallowed hard.