The Last Warlock

Chapter 52 - 52. To The Mouth Of Death

Mack jumped to the front head first while slashing an acolyte.

With the impetus, he rolled on the ground and torn apart another acolyte leg.

While still rolling, Mack activated his flashbang runespell.

Mack stood up and a bright light flashed for a second on the battlefield again, as if a giant was using a kodak camera to record this beautiful battle.

Every acolyte in front of Mack went blind, and the warlocks didn't delay, heads begun to fall like drops announcing an incoming rain.

Mack raised his sword high and half a second later pointed to that mage.

He didn't forget his prom dance.

"Make him dance for me!" .

And not even a second later, two warlocks run while slashing their swords.

Mack looked around and saw that no warlock died until now.

The plan was working.

The mages are going to go insane today.

Mack blocked an acolyte with his left hand and sidestepped to evade another one.

His sword went up and two heads went down.

Mack's gaze went to that mage. Now on a full play. Like a monkey on a tipsy day.

Mack pulled his sword back and flexed his right arm all the way.

That mage only saw a sword coming his way and before he could even pray, his body was rolling on the plains.

Mack slowly walked to that mage and put his hand on the handle of the sword, still lunged at the mage right eye.

"Sorry to come late for the dance."

Said Mack, placing his right foot on the mage's mouth and pushing the sword out of his skull.

Mack clicked his middle finger and the blood mist around him stopped.

The two warlocks didn't stop, and the killing continued. The more they killed, the more they advanced the tip of the formation.

Behind Mack, over forty were coming.

Those two were just the sharp point of the knife. The bests at close combat. And Mack, a freak.

~swish~

The blade was pushed out of that mage skull and Mack blocked an acolyte staff with his left hand.

Barely the blade left a warm body to once again feel the urge for another one.

Mack's sword didn't have a scabbard, his scabbard was the dead bodies of mages and acolytes.

Only the best of the best for his sword.

Mack kicked the acolyte leg, making him lose balance and in the next second maimed his right side with three blunt strikes of his sword.

Only pure and brutal force, no fancy movements.

The acolyte passed out without air in his lungs and Mack kicked him in the groins.

There is nothing so bad that can't go worst.

The acolyte opened his eyes almost bulging them out of his sockets and a blade came to appease his pain.

Mack had others to play.

The battle was an unending carnage. The more they advanced the more acolytes and mages came.

But they didn't stop.

They kept advancing in the middle of the mage army.

Many knew they entered but only a few knew they were still there. Most thought of them as good as dead. The battle was huge and the mage's army was the most numerous. It was impossible to track what was happening on all the fronts.

The warlocks took advantage of this chaos to kill their way toward their goal.

But less than half an hour later, they had already lost more than ten warriors.

They kept advancing and losing warriors, but another half hour later, they finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Or, in other words, they finally didn't see any mages or acolytes coming in front of them.

They finally crossed the mage's army.

With only 12 people in total, they barely had any formation now. Even so, it was still better than what Mack thought. He believed they would not even be able to cross the mage army.

Behind them, the mages and acolytes still pursued them. Is not like they would leave them alone just because they crossed the entire army and were running in the opposite direction. On the contrary, anyone that went behind their backs would receive full attention. Because now was easy to spot them. They were not surrounded by hundreds or thousands of mages and acolytes anymore.

They were in the open.

And thousands have spotted them.

"Keep running! Protect Raz at all costs until we reach our goal!"

Screamed Mack to the few warriors with him.

Every single one of them knew this was a last struggle in a lost battle. A chance, a hope. And because of that, no one of them cared if they lost their lives. If they just stayed at the camps instead, sooner or later they would be dead anyway.

If they had to use their lives to buy a chance for the warlocks to survive, they would gladly threw themself to the mouth of death.

They kept running without stopping. Using the last drops of stamina on their bodies.

Fireballs rained on their backs and Raz did his best to not let one fall on them. But even with Raz, it was a monumental struggle to avoid all of them.

Dozens of fireballs came for their backs from all directions.

It was impossible for Raz to keep all at bay.

"Tight the formation! everyone around Raz! No more than 10 steps away from him!"

This way, Raz only had to care about the attacks coming right at them.

Mack kept running at the front of all of them. But now his goal was not to kill but to change directions and kept looking back to avoid most of the fireballs coming for them.

After about 20 minutes of openly running on the fields, most of the attacks stopped and now only one group of mages was pursuing them.

But was not a small group.

Mack quickly looked back and saw almost a hundred of mages running in their direction. Not acolytes, Mages!

One hundred mages.

If those mages catch them. They would be good as dead.

That was what those mages thought, at least.

"Stop! Lets clear our back."

Screamed Mack, turning his back and pressing his middle finger.