Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair

The battle on the tower was not too intense. Although Mark had the "qualification" to compete with Gillianis for a short time under the influence of his evil and powerful master, how long he could survive under the hands of the moon elves depended entirely on his luck and the speed of the dragon lich to rescue him.

On the contrary, under the tower, the street fighting in Green Swamp Town quickly entered a white-hot stage. The militia commanded by Kalade and Andre and others quickly fought back and forth with the thugs of the Yungang Holt family who sneaked into the town. Even though Evender retreated to a stone house to "personally" supervise the battle, and supplemented it with a verbal offensive that was better than nothing, he could not suppress the counterattack of the crowd.

In fact, if the strength of the crowd was more concentrated, there would be a chance to kill Evender and his lackeys, but they needed to consider not only the opponents, but also the residents of the town and Constance who was imprisoned in the magic alley.

"How can this be fake?!"

The spiked chain easily cut a clown's throat, but the figure did not splatter blood. Instead, it exploded with a funny and deadly laugh. The hidden trap inside pierced the shadow spirit Yelena's arm and made it bleed.

Under the hood, the shadow spirit's pale face had a sickly blush. She took advantage of the chaos to sneak into the alley to save Constance, but after several confrontations, she was almost angry to the point of red temperature.

As a shadow dancer, Yelena's best skill is to lurk in the shadows and assassinate the target. Now she has been tricked by her peers. How can she not be angry?

"Yelena, don't be impulsive!"

Constance desperately pulled the shadow spirit. Compared with Yelena, her mentality now became more stable as her injuries became more serious: "He is just disgusting. As long as we don't take the initiative to step into his trap, this guy can't do anything to us."

"Everyone speaks better than singing!" The clown's laughter sounded again at an unknown corner of the alley, "But I have never let the target escape!"

With the laughter, a flying knife covered with venom once again crossed a tricky arc and attacked, and then was shot down by Yelena swinging the thorn chain. The two women no longer wanted to fight and quickly ran in the opposite direction.

No matter how the other party taunted, killing them was never their main goal, but how to survive was.

But in Constance's heart, there was a little doubt: Can such a clown who is not good at fighting head-on really kill her? Is the scarred face of the Holt family a little too confident?

This question was soon answered.

With a light "snap", Constance quickly raised her sword to block, but she was still a step too slow. A blade flashed past her ear and a strand of black hair was cut off instantly, and scattered into the air.

Scimitar? When the attacker passed by them, Constance and Yelena were both startled. This was not the clown's weapon.

"Constance, right?"

A deep male voice sounded in front of them. A tall dark-skinned elf blocked their way. It was a male drow. For those who were not familiar with the underground race, he might be no different from other male drows. However, in their eyes, this appearance and body shape would point to one person.

"Seymour!" Constance and Yelena looked at each other and saw the horror in each other's eyes. "Why are you here?!"

"Have the bandits outside been repelled?"

"Constance, be careful!" Shadow Spirit stopped the half-elf. Although this man looked almost exactly like Seymour, as a subspecies that had also left the protection of the elven gods, Yelena keenly noticed his difference. "Seymour is outside now, with Carlos. You can't be him!"

And although Seymour's most commonly used weapon when teaching militiamen and others martial arts was a pair of scimitars, those who knew him knew that this was not his best skill!

"You are not Seymour!"

"Ah, you recognized them so quickly." The man dressed as Seymour sneered, "Master Evander is a useless person with high expectations but low skills. The master is right."

"The plan seems to be perfect, but the execution is always full of loopholes - if he can really realize his ideas, you at least won't recognize me so quickly."

"You are almost the same. If you don't want us to find out, at least you should not act so quickly," Yelena retorted, "Seymour will not sneak attack us."

"Whatever," the man shook his head, but he did not intend to remove the disguise, but attacked directly, "Clown! How long are you going to play? Come and solve them with me!"

The creepy laughter quickly approached from behind the two people. The spiked chain in Yelena's hand danced into a barrier, blocking the man pretending to be Seymour in front, while Constance raised the swift sword in one hand and held the dagger in the off-hand hand, fighting with the clown.

Although both opponents are experts in fighting in such a tight environment, fortunately Yelena and Constance are not unfamiliar with this, so they will not be at a disadvantage for a while.

The premise is that the number of enemies will not continue to increase.

"Retreat! Use the terrain to deal with them!" Outside the alley, as the residents of the town were driven into their respective homes, the situation of the Yungang thugs under Evander took a sharp turn for the worse. Evander had to rush into the dark alley first and command his men to enter, trying to make a final desperate resistance with the terrain derived from magic.

It was obvious that he was unwilling to accept his failure. Another reason was that his uncle Mark promised that if his plan failed, he would show a trump card that could reverse the situation.

This was Evander's second to last confidence. As for the last one... Mark was not the only one who had a trump card, he also had one. It's just that this card has not been touched yet, and this card is not so easy to use.

Otherwise, he would never sit back and watch things become like this.

Evander Holt ran in the dark alley, bypassing the box traps set by the clowns. From time to time, he lowered his head and looked at the flickering sword-shaped pattern on his chest. The sword was not pointing vertically upward or downward, but diagonally across his collarbone, with the tip of the sword pointing to his heart.

This was the price he had to pay. Once he chose to cooperate with that being, he had to pay the price. Heart, body, soul, all would belong to it.

But there was also an advantage to doing so: that being would help him solve all his problems, no matter what form it took - they were always very concerned about contracts. (End of this chapter)