Pandevus had seen Doren's clumsy stance, wooden ladle with soup still on it pointed his way, and Espin's sharp defensive posture, so he chose to run. He had no idea where other soldiers might be.
Clang!
A throwing dagger whirled through the air with a metallic ring and thudded into the ground.
"You got eyes in the back of your head or something?"
Rowan muttered with a sneer, watching Pandevus knock the straight-shot throwing dagger away with the mace, dead on. It was hard to believe what Rowan had just seen.
'Three enemies. Take down even one and running gets easier.'
Naturally, Rowan, alone and dressed in mercenary gear, became the target. While a knight would have equipment far beyond their actual ability level, Rowan was the exact opposite—ability far beyond what the gear suggested.
Whack!
"!"
The grotesquely thick thigh muscles exploded with force. Dirt kicked up over a meter. Just the act of pushing off to run, and the leg strength was already unbelievable.
