When physical strength is exhausted, it is the moment for magic force to take effect.
The flame originally suppressed to the extreme on the greatsword suddenly exploded completely, emitting a sizzling sound of burning, and the air was instantly filled with the aroma of roasted meat.
The soldiers on both sides, who had been on the road overnight, were already starving; smelling this aroma made them feel even hungrier.
Blood Claw, having struck successfully, showed no signs of joy; on the contrary, a chill ran down his spine, and instinctively, he raised his left hand in front of him.
The strike was simply too easy.
It's hard not to suspect that this is a trap, a specific tactic of the enemy.
Blood Claw's suspicion was correct; the head of the Half-Ogre had already turned halfway, producing a sinister grin towards him, and one could almost clearly smell the foul stench from its gaping mouth, "You've been caught!"
