"Seventeen."
He had killed seventeen of Rhea's cavalrymen; the rest of the enemies should have scattered without their commander.
Snowflakes danced wildly in the sky, soft and light, twirling and swaying, mystical and beautiful.
Lucius stumbled forward, aware that the severe loss of blood was affecting him, and the effect of the blood potion could only provide limited healing.
"If not for the Extraordinary trait 'Fight to the Death,' I wouldn't have been able to fight at all."
But he had just realized one thing—that even a passive Extraordinary trait required a minuscule amount of Spiritual Power to maintain.
The blow that the half-orc knight had delivered to his waist had been nearly fatal; his liver was ruptured.
Moreover, the power of the protective runes lasted only an instant. At that time, they had failed to stop all the bullets, and the last few shots fired by the men were not blocked by the runes; one of the bullets had successfully hit an artery in his thigh.
