At the edge of the port, Kendrz, the Guild Commander of Xanathar’s Guild, had been cautiously watching the monster’s movements, worried its attention might shift back to him.
Yet, to his utter surprise, the creature abruptly abandoned all its current targets and charged in another direction.
He squinted into the distance, spotting only his most capable lieutenant—the one-eyed —who seemed to have been trampled by the monster. His fate remained unknown.
Further away, a white-haired, slender silhouette—slender by his own standards—was fleeing for its life.
Was the monster chasing that White-haired person?
Kendrz didn’t know. But for now, the greatest threat had vanished. Suppressing his bewilderment, he signaled his men to retreat, putting distance between themselves and the Amazon women as they warily faced off.
Then, as he looked down at the decapitated corpses littering the ground, his heart bled.
Not only were the goods gone, but so many of his subordinates had fallen. How could he possibly explain this to his superiors?
He longed to break through the Amazons’ blockade, storm the port, and search the cargo for his missing shipment.
A glance at his gangsters told him everything. Their faces bore the relief of survivors, their morale shattered. There would be no rallying them for another assault.
He couldn’t defy their will. Losing the shipment meant financial penalties, but losing his men—or their loyalty—would cripple his influence for years.
Yes, he was a formidable warrior, but a mere enforcer for the guild would never command the same privileges as a leader.
With a final glare at the sky, he snarled, "Retreat!"
Meanwhile, Porter, the Amazon female executive, noticed with astonishment that the colossal monster’s attention had been drawn away by a white-haired youth.
She remained wary of Kendrz’s forces, but soon realized—they were retreating?
Good. This was acceptable. Though Kendrz himself escaped, he had been dealt a heavy blow. Tonight’s losses were manageable. It was time to cut their losses.
Amazon Fisheries was a legitimate company. Unlike Xanathar’s Guild, they couldn’t slaughter indiscriminately—at least not without a plausible excuse.
Now, with this monster, all the deaths and the losses of so many female warriors could be pinned on her. No one would hold them accountable.
Thinking this, she raised her left hand and shouted, "We’re pulling back too!"
The female warriors withdrew immediately. The bodies of their fallen comrades would be handled by the company’s corpse collectors. Soon, not a single living soul remained in the area—only hundreds of severed heads, congealed blood, and countless corpses.
But no one was left to witness this gruesome scene. The only living person still present, Charles, was currently fleeing for his life, utterly terrified, as Ruth chased him down!
Damn it! Wasn’t she far away just a moment ago? How did she spot me so fast?!
He didn’t know. But right now, his spell slots weren’t fully restored, so his only option was to run!
Yet he knew this couldn’t last. His stamina was draining fast, and if this dragged on, he was dead. So...
He had to fight back!
Stay calm, Charles. Hadn’t you already planned for this?
Don’t panic. Hold on a little longer. Once your spell slots recharge, you can find an opening and purified her!
With this thought, he kept running, taking sharp turns to widen the distance between himself and Ruth, buying time while layering defensive spells over himself.
Soon, his body was fully warded, his spell slots gradually refilling—but his stamina was nearly gone, his lungs burning as if about to explode.
Success or failure hinged on this moment!
Dashing around another corner, Charles leaned against a blood-smeared wall, listening to the growls and metallic clashing behind him. He took a deep breath, steeled his courage, and silently chanted, "Shield." Then, encased in protection, he whirled around—
And in a daze, he saw what looked like a guillotine before him, its massive, razor-sharp blade suspended high above—with his neck positioned right beneath it!
This was Ruth’s attack pattern. She meant to take his head!
Though his vision swam with illusions, his consciousness remained clear. He thrust out a hand, pressed it against the base of the guillotine, and growled, "Purification!"
A milky light flared, instantly enveloping Ruth’s entire body. Surging power flooded through the white radiance, and in an instant, Charles felt all his exhaustion vanish.
What a wondrous sensation. Just like the first time he’d used purified on Hattie.
Ruth let out a piercing shriek—and the guillotine’s blade came crashing down!
In an instant, all his layered protections - Shield, Blade Ward, False Life, and Armor of Agathys - shattered completely. The blade struck the back of his neck, sending waves of excruciating pain through his body!
He couldn’t help but groan as he watched the milky light of purified envelop Ruth, though it was still far from complete. The guillotine blade rose high again, ready to fall a second time!
No time to wait. If he stayed here any longer, he’d lose his head!
With this thought, he immediately released his grip and turned to continue fleeing.
His current state felt excellent - no panic in his heart, no pain in his lungs, all muscle soreness completely gone. He felt like he could easily run another five kilometers without difficulty!
Meanwhile, Ruth, while still fearsome in demeanor, had clearly slowed down compared to before!
So this so-called purified was actually stealing her power, wasn’t it?
Thinking this, he pulled out another spellbook while running, casting Cure Wounds on himself. The terrible pain in his neck disappeared as the wound healed, and in moments he was back at peak condition.
This realization made his spirits soar.
Excellent, the effects were remarkable. At this rate, a few more purified and he’d have Ruth firmly tamed!
Fortunately, the Night of the Witches lasted a full thirteen hours - plenty of time remained, and the slums were large enough to allow for prolonged cat-and-mouse games.
Don’t be fooled by my current embarrassing appearance - in truth, the advantage is mine!
He kept running, maintaining distance from Ruth, trying to wear down her strength through attrition.