The first to recover from the shock was the Lizardman Hunt Chief. He'd completely misjudged the enemy's strength-but it was too late for a tactical retreat now.
His eyes locked onto the human standing not far away, clearly exposed.
The Hunt Chief's pupils turned crimson, and rather than slowing down, he accelerated. The time was now. The winged creature was still in the air, and the terrifying wolf wasn't by the human's side either. This was the perfect opening!
"Die, outsider!" he roared.
"This great marshland will be your grave!"
Raising his battle-worn axe, the Lizardman bellowed with fury, charging across the final distance in a flash.
Only a few breaths passed before he closed in on Lyle.
But Lyle, calm and eerily composed, looked the bloodthirsty Lizardman in the eye and smiled.
"You must be their leader. I've been waiting for you… my friend."
Was this human insane?
But whatever confusion flickered in his reptilian mind didn't reach his hands, his axe was already in mid-swing.
"All RaceCharm," Lyle murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
The axe froze in place.
The Hunt Chief stood paralyzed mid-swing, eyes dull and unfocused.
"Now, be a dear and deal with your friends for me. Don't kill them--just rough them up a bit," Lyle said, lazily waving his hand.
The Lizardman nodded blankly, turned around, and hoisted his axe once more--this time against his own comrades.
The sounds that followed were... chaotic.
Cries of confusion, angry roars, and pained howls echoed through the wetlands as the Hunt Chief hacked his way through his allies with mechanical efficiency. Each swing knocked another Lizardman flat on the mud, broken but alive.
With a whoosh, the Flame Archangel descended from the sky and hovered beside Lyle, its radiant form shimmering with heavenly fire.
"Is this all? Just these lizards?" it asked, voice ringing like a temple bell.
He hadn't sent it skyward just to squish a few reptiles--it had a second job.
"Did you spot anyone else? Spies? Other tribes? Monsters lurking nearby?"
The Archangel gave a slight shake of its burning head.
"A pity," Lyle sighed.
At that moment, a low growl rose from the lakeshore. The Barghest trotted up, dragging three half-dead Lizardmen behind it. Bone chains clinked across the wet ground as it approached.
"Wuuu…" it whimpered, dropping its captives in front of Lyle like a proud pet offering up squirrels.
"Good boy," Lyle said, scratching behind its cracked ear. A magic greatsword materialized in his hand with a flicker.
One clean sweep across their throats-schlick-and three blood geysers painted the marsh.
"Roughly the same as trolls... Not bad for beastkin," Lyle muttered, genuinely surprised.
Meanwhile, the charmed Hunt Chief had finished dragging the rest of his victims to Lyle's feet. Fifteen more Lizardmen lay writhing in agony.
"What are you doing, Chief?! No-don't-!"
"Why… why would you do this?!"
"You monster! You've twisted him somehow!"
The wounded warriors cried out in confusion and anger.
He raised his blade and walked forward.
One swing. Then another. And another.
Fifteen Lizardmen fell silent forever. Only the Hunt Chief remained.
[EXP Bar: 137,405 / 70,000]
Lyle turned to the surviving Chief, wiping a spot of blood from his cheek.
"Now that we're properly introduced, why don't you tell me about the four sacred treasures your tribe is guarding?"
That, after all, was the real reason he came. In both the animated version and the novel scripts, there'd only been vague rumors of those artifacts-especially the one stolen by the twin swamp witches, which remained a total mystery.
Unfortunately, the Chief's answer was disappointing.
He barely knew a thing.
He could name one of the treasures, but not its function. The rest? A blur of myths and vague references.
Lyle's eyes narrowed. Honestly, the Chief knew less than he did.
Well... that tracked. These swamp-dwelling reptiles were infamously xenophobic and secretive. They rarely even mingled with other lizard tribes, let alone outsiders.
"Forget it. Just tell me about your tribe," Lyle sighed.
The information came quickly. The Chief, still under charm, reported in a flat, obedient tone.
They were the Small Fang Tribe. The population included:
- 65 Lizardman warriors
- 111 combat-capable males
- 94 combat-capable females
- About 50 elders, children, and others
In total: over 320 members, including the now-dead 16 hunting squad members.
"Smaller than expected."
With their strong bodies and innate combat aptitude, most adult Lizardmen should be at least level 8. Physically, they far surpassed human soldiers of the same rank.
Still, quantity mattered-and they had too little of it.
"Take me to your village."
It turned out the Small Fang village was barely five kilometers away, nestled by a large lake. Dozens of wooden huts came into view as they approached.
Two gate guards spotted them first.
"Guri, you're back! Did you catch the-huh?"
The first Lizardman's eyes lit up before freezing mid-sentence as he noticed the strangers: a human manling, a massive hound, and a blazing, winged archangel.
They were very not Lizardmen.
"Where's the rest of the squad?" the second guard asked, suspicious.
The Hunt Chief suddenly surged forward and drove his axe into one of the guards before the poor soul could even react.
"Guri, what the hell are you doing?!" the other yelled in shock.
The Flame Archangel dove from the sky, cleaving the second guard clean in two with a single swipe.
Panic erupted instantly.
Screams, crashing footsteps, chaos.
The small village fell into uproar as warriors grabbed weapons and charged toward the disturbance.
"You've killed your brothers!"
"What happened out there?!"
"Where's the rest of the hunting party?!"
Lyle calmly stepped through the gate, his hound padding beside him.
He took one glance at the gathering Lizardman forces, then flicked his hand.
The Archangel's golden wings flared as it plunged into the crowd like a divine executioner. Each swing of its flaming sword sliced through armor, scale, and bone with horrifying ease.
"Yep. Definitely a massacre," Lyle remarked dryly.
At level 21, the Archangel was a one-lizard-army against this average level 10 rabble.
Screams and roars mingled into one chaotic din.
Within the village, the tribal chieftain-Sukyu Juju-and the only priest finally emerged from their huts. They stared in horror at the carnage unfolding outside.
"Damn you!!" Sukyu Juju bellowed, gripping his hip-worn slingshot and preparing to leap into battle.
But the elderly priest slammed his staff into the ground, blocking him.
"Fool! Don't rush in! That… that creature, armored and winged-is an angel."
"Angel…?" Sukyu's rage faltered.
Their target had been a human capable of summoning angels. And now, one was in their village.
"Only a third-tier caster can summon such a beast," the priest said grimly.
"Get the civilians to safety. I'll buy time."
Sukyu nodded and turned, yelling orders to evacuate the noncombatants.
The priest took a deep breath and raised his ancient staff.
"Lesser Mass Tranquility!"
A wave of calming green magic spread outward. The panicking warriors suddenly stilled, their minds cleared of fear and confusion.
"Pull back! Keep distance! Attack from range!" the priest commanded.
The warriors obeyed, scattering and drawing bows, slingshots, anything that could serve as a projectile. Even rocks were hurled desperately at the descending angel.