The Faceless had quietly crossed the canal and outflanked the back of the mercenary camp long before the sun had completely set. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

Her real name was not Faceless, but Afra, a name given to her by Bishop Heather in the Holy City of Hermes, meaning dust. She liked the name very much, because the dust was unpretentious, and when it fell to the ground, she could no longer distinguish between them, just like her.

It is only in front of Heather that Afra will return to her original appearance.

As a member of the tribunal, she assisted the bishop in dealing with many degenerates, from apostasy witches to secular corrupters. He was sent to the royal capital to accomplish a crucial mission: to transform a pious inquisitor into the king of the Greykeep. As for the capture of fallen witches, it is just a leisure activity to piggyback, and she likes to imitate those witches who have been tortured and tortured, and then experience it from beginning to end, sharing the pain of the fallen can make her feel more deeply the meaning of everything she has done, and it is also an atonement for her demonic power.

The camp was cleverly set up, right in the raised field on the shore, and it was difficult to observe their whereabouts from a low place, and the witch flying in the sky kept her from getting too close. Afra had to lurk in a farm warehouse and wait until it was dark.

When night covered the land, she was surprised to find that things had changed.

The mercenaries had already withdrawn from the dock area and retreated to the camp, and the dreaming water fools were gathering together on the banks of the river with torches—as if they were telling them that someone was coming to attack the camp. Even if there is no flying witch, as long as the mercenary group is not all blind, you can tell that something is wrong at a glance.

Oops, she secretly said in her heart that it was not good, if the other party judged that the rats were outnumbered and had no chance of winning, they would definitely retreat to the east. Although it is very taboo to march at night, it is obvious that there is not so much to do with running for your life, and it is better to go your own way, and there is not even a shadow in the encirclement at this moment - the dream water has just occupied the dock, and it is still slowly crossing the river by the few rafts on the shore. By the time they surround them, I'm afraid they'll have already run away. It's impossible to get the rats to chase the enemy at night, so where are you going to find those damn witches?

Afra hurried in the direction of the camp, hoping to blend in with the group before they retreated.

However, when she arrived near the mercenary gathering place, the scene in front of her was completely unexpected.

There were still people patrolling the perimeter of the camp, the bonfires were burning vigorously, and the figures came and went, seemingly orderly, and there was no chaos.

They didn't even choose to retreat?

After a moment of careful observation, Afra confirmed her judgment and felt a pang of joy in her heart. Although I don't know what the other party's considerations were, they decided to stay here instead of fleeing as soon as possible, but in this way, the end was already doomed. She pulled a dagger from her waist and watched the sentinel's movements, reaching for the weakest spot.

In addition to giving her the meaning of existence, Lord Heather also taught her the art of fighting and assassination. The opponent is not an elite mercenary who has been through a lot of battles, as can be seen from the sentinel arrangement. While one of the mercenaries was looking away, she quickly pounced on him from the corner of her sight, covering her mouth with one hand and plunging the dagger into his neck with the other.

After quietly killing the mercenary, Afra held down the other man with one hand and put the other on her chest, casting her transformation ability - a process that can be long or short: when replacing the king, in order to ensure that it takes effect for a long time, she almost exhausts all the magic in her body, and the transformation time lasts for nearly half an hour. At this time, it didn't take so much effort, and in the blink of an eye, she transformed herself into a mercenary, and although the effect only lasted half a day, it was enough for an assassination.

Before the patrol could return, she quickly stripped off the other man's clothes and put them on herself, dragging the body into the wheat field. It's just that she felt a little confused when faced with the mercenary's weapon—it was an iron gun with a wooden grip, but the tip of the shaft had no point, but a small black hole.

What kind of weapon is this?

She thought for a long time but couldn't come up with an answer, and seeing that the patrol was about to pass by, Afra had to carry it behind her back as she remembered, pretending to be a serious sentry.

As with countless assassinations before, the patrol passed by her, and did not notice anything unusual.

Afra was not in a hurry to return to the camp to find the whereabouts of the witch, after all, the substitution technique could only simulate the appearance, but could not read thoughts, and it would be easy to show the horse's feet if she ran into an acquaintance. By the time these people are in chaos, there are countless options for her to choose from.

As the moon hung high in the night sky, the dreaming water fools finally crossed the canal and moved closer to each other. And a whistle sounded behind her, and the mercenaries patrolling and guarding began to withdraw to the camp - her chance had come.

As she walked into the camp, Afra was surprised to find that there were far more than a hundred men on the other side, and they were all in a long circle, surrounding the entire small slope, crouching or standing, holding the strange weapon in their hands, and facing the enemy with the end of the hole.

She didn't have time to take a closer look, so she stooped down and slipped into the nearest tent while no one was paying attention.

After a while, shouts of killing rang out outside, then interrupted by an even more violent explosion. Afra was startled, the sound was so dense that it barely stopped.

What the hell is going on?, she resisted the urge to take a peek and waited.

As time went on, the camp became busy, filled with footsteps and orders, presumably adjusting the defenses according to the number of attackers. To Afra's annoyance, why haven't they reached the top of the hill after all this time!?

After a while, the sound of ping-pong became quieter, and she could no longer hear the rats fighting—it made Afra's heart sink down, didn't it...... Even if the number of mercenaries doubled, there would only be two or three hundred, and the more than a thousand rats surrounding from all sides would not be able to step on the top of the slope?

It was as if the opportunity was on the way to her.

Afra immediately slipped out of the tent and made her way to the center of the camp - when the battle was over and the personnel were counted, it was hard for her to hide from everyone's eyes. It wasn't a well-prepared infiltration, and she wasn't familiar with the mercenary group's personnel and passwords, so she had to do it quickly.

Rounding the two tents, Afra slowly poked her head out and looked into the middle of the camp. I saw four women sitting around the campfire, probably the witches mentioned in the intelligence. The numbers weren't matched, but the damn information wasn't accurate from the start, and killing two wasn't much different from killing four, and anyone suspected of being a depraved should be questioned. When it is too late to torture, they should be killed, and even if they are wrong, it is a necessary sacrifice.

She looked left and right, and after planning her retreat, she got up from behind the tent and walked towards the campfire as if nothing had happened.

As soon as she stepped into the open space in the middle, Afra felt a cold hard object against the back of her head.

"Don't move," a woman's voice said, "who the hell are you?" (to be continued.) )