Don't confiscate my identity as a human race-Chapter 1314 - 826: Lanci and Tolyado’s Enthusiastic Crowd_4
"Priority is maintaining the gravity field, don't be greedy for the life of the rotten bishop, focus on those two seventh-order!"
Red Falcon Nikola gritted his teeth, commanding his subordinates to face the enemy.
Facing the numerous and aggressively attacking rotten bishops, the Imperial Agents quickly found themselves in a hard fight.
This was not the most deadly; the most dangerous was undoubtedly Rotten Saint Son Montiluo, with his silver alchemical beast being too powerful against weaker opponents. Once it caused losses, the ensuing tipping point would rapidly result in his alchemical beast splitting into more entities, completely collapsing the formation.
Red Falcon Nikola watched the acidic mist rising from the ground at the harbor.
The corrosion magic of the Rotten Saint Son's true body was also wide-ranging, and even the magical barrier could hardly fully block it.
Montiluo waved the rod in his hand, light green mist surged out like a poisonous snake, where it passed, even the air was corroded and twisted.
The agents' defensive line began to cough up blood painfully within this corrosive mist.
"Did you really enjoy beating up my team leader just now, huh!"
The changing situation gave Maquiel an opportunity to exploit.
Taking advantage of the agents being attacked from both sides, Maquiel suddenly launched an attack.
His iron-like fist smashed into the nearest agent, with the sound of bones breaking, that figure flew out heavily, crashing into a container.
"Fill the position."
Red Falcon Nikola knew it was bad but had no time to deal with anything else, he could only command the fighters to reinforce the line.
"Nikola, did you ever imagine you'd see a day like this?"
Maquiel laughed sinisterly, eyes gleaming with a sense of vengeance.
"A petty person who gets his way..."
Red Falcon Nikola didn't want to pay him any attention.
What needs to be done now is to find a way to break through.
If there was anyone who could help them now, it would only be the leader deep within the Bulida Mafia, Barton.
As strong as the former Guardian Army Commander Barton Hall, he might be able to change the situation, but Barton had long broken with the military and would no longer intervene in their disputes.
"You wouldn't count on the neutral Mafia to intervene and help you, would you?"
Rotten Saint Son Montiluo sneered, magic power transformed into a large net, and the corrosive tide smashed down on Nikola.
No way forward, no way back.
Red Falcon Nikola knew that fighting head-on would only lead to death.
He gritted his teeth and made a decision.
"All retreat! Regroup!"
Red Falcon Nikola signaled the surviving agents to retreat from the battlefield as quickly as possible, to break through to the city and restore communication signals.
As long as they enter the city, they can call for aid, and even if they can't be rescued, there's a chance to block these cultists in the gray area and eventually exterminate these lawbreakers.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave."
Montiluo chuckled lightly, more fog spewed out from his rod, pursuing the scattered agents.
Many agents were still caught, the poisonous mist corroding their bodies, soon they began to slow down and were caught by the rotten bishops, starting a new entanglement.
"Nikola, even the gods can't save you."
Maquiel approached, full of mockery, relishing the show.
He had been besieged for so long, now he could finally reach Nikola without obstruction.
"..."
Red Falcon Nikola gritted his teeth, staying silent.
He still had a few bottom-line magic devices on him, and even if he couldn't pose a substantial threat to Maquiel, he would fight until the last moment.
Admitting defeat was simply impossible.
Maquiel raised his fist.
Just about to deliver the fatal blow to Nikola.
Suddenly he felt a strong wind rise behind him!
The next moment, Maquiel only felt the world spinning, his whole body flying out like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into a container.
The container cracked in response, collapsing like dominoes, creating pit after pit on the ground.
"Who is it?"
Montiluo also stopped his steps, looking cautiously at the uninvited guest.
As the dust settled, a man in black stood quietly in the Mafia's alley.
"I got it, just in time."
The man hung up his specially made communication device from the Mafia's shielded zone, it was unclear with whom he was speaking.
He gazed at Rotten Saint Son and Maquiel, his back to the morning light, face hidden in shadow, only a pair of ice-blue eyes gleamed brightly in the snowy weather.
"Barton...?"
Nikola's eyes widened, looking at that silhouette in disbelief.
This dangerous figure in Bulida—
The leader of the Bulida Mafia.
In Bulida, he was the underground emperor feared by smugglers, avoided at all costs by the police.
Why would he break the rules to help this agent?
"I'll explain later."
Barton didn't turn back to look at Nikola; there was no need for the enemy to hear their conversation.
He just walked slowly forward, the gentle sound of metal friction reaching everyone's ears.
That was the soft sound from the knives of various kinds tied to his waist, their cold glint faintly visible in the wind and snow.
Gradually, the shadows on Barton finally faded away, revealing his ash-gray hair and merciless eyes.
He wore a pure black trench coat, cinched with a brown leather belt, with a black shirt and vest underneath, cuffs and hem adorned with dark red patterns, allowing him to ignore terrain and pass through any obstacle.
Inside that black cloak and coat, it was likely filled with specially made magically resonant knives.
Before anyone could finish speaking, the silhouette of Mafia leader Barton enlarged infinitely in the enemy's pupils.
In the next frame of the view, Barton was already within arm's reach of Rotten Saint Son, his movements utterly silent and without prelude.
Barton made a move, so fast it was dizzying, he didn't even draw a weapon, relying solely on combat experience to hold down Montiluo's rod and Maquiel's fist.
