Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 510: Chapter 321: Piggy is so Cute_1

In such dim light, vision was not the primary sense; the two sides discovered each other before they had even met.

”No restrictions. Kill any enemy on sight with full force.”

Lance raised his hand, conjuring a small Shield from thin air, his right hand grasping a hand axe. His greatsword was of little practical use in such confined spaces.

The narrow space made it hard to maneuver and dodge. The Shield could block some enemy attacks, while the axe was good for chopping, suitable for leveraging his strength.

Boudica picked up her War Halberd. She didn’t know what was happening; she only knew it was time for a slaughter.

Tadiff quickly drew his axe, entering a combat stance. The gaze beneath his helmet fixed intently on what lay ahead.

Dismas held a musket in one hand and a Short Sword in the other, his sharp gaze seeming to pierce the darkness.

As the distance closed, they finally made out a few grotesque figures charging from the gloom.

One was the monster Geralt had described.

It had the head of a pig on a stout human body—though this was only true for the upper half, as its lower half had more porcine proportions. It dragged a Chain Hammer, whose clashing links made it stand out, and its other hand wielded a serrated Meat Cleaver, darkened with what seemed like countless bloodstains. It resembled a mad, pig-headed butcher.

The other two, however, were somewhat strange. Their forms were thinner than the first, and their heads were completely covered by bizarre and ill-fitting, full-face steel helms.

They exhibited significant signs of haphazard modifications. The left hand bore a Shield cobbled together from scraps and waste, while the right had been transformed to include a massive hook, fixed into the Flesh where the hand had been amputated. These modifications extended throughout their entire bodies; sharp metal bars were even tied to their deformed pig’s feet, akin to horseshoes nailed to a horse’s hooves.

The chaotic and illogical alterations made them look like a child’s jumbled toy assembly.

But underestimating that sharp hook would definitely lead to trouble.

Yet this was not the full extent of the Beast Lair’s abominations. Another creature, even smaller than the first two, then leaped out from the darkness.

This creature was not even half the size of its companions, resembling a child of seven or eight.

While the other Pigman-type monsters were strange yet somewhat discernible, this one was a mass of twisted, deformed Flesh. The only relatively clear feature on its body was its pig’s head. It was covered in tumors and sparse pig bristles, its flaccid, wrinkled skin piled in layers. Disturbingly, a human face could be seen on its chest, as though a skeleton had grown inside its body.

Its lower half was completely degenerated, leaving only deformed, decrepit pig’s hooves and inexplicable Bone Spurs that broke through the skin. It moved by means of its arms—crawling and leaping through the shadows—yet with remarkable agility.

Neither the stocky Pigman Butcher nor the Pigman Hookhands had troubled Lance, but the appearance of this new figure instantly heightened his alertness.

The Pigman Cripple. That was a pathological hybrid of human and pig, crafted in research by the Ancestor—a twisted amalgamation of Flesh.But clearly, the Ancestor’s rituals had failed, warping its body into strange shapes and making it the host of countless, indescribable diseases.

And this was Lance’s concern. In terms of aggressiveness, they hardly posed a threat. Their real danger lay in the multitude of diseases they carried, capable of transmission through their disease-ridden vomit.

The sharp screech they had just heard clearly emanated from this creature, as it continued to scream incessantly, much like a pig being slaughtered.

Whether it was warning its comrades or calling for reinforcements was unknown, but the shrill sound, amplified by the pipes, became even more irritating, generating an unnerving pressure.

One Pigman Butcher, two Pigman Hookhands, and one Pigman Cripple.

This familiar team configuration momentarily made Lance feel as if he had returned to a game.

But he snapped back to reality in an instant. The Pigmen were even more eager than their visitors—the fight was imminent!

”Dismas, aim for the small one and shoot!” Lance commanded, marking the Pigman Cripple with a gesture, then lifted his Shield and charged forward.

As the distance closed, Dismas could make out the enemy in the dim environment. Upon hearing the Lord’s instruction, he promptly raised his musket.

The dim lighting and cramped terrain, combined with the target’s small stature—obscured as it was by other Pigmen and its own nimble movements—posed significant challenges. Even though Dismas was confident, it took him a moment to find an opportunity to aim and fire.

Suddenly, he saw his chance: the Pigman Cripple leaped forward, using its forelimbs for support.

Just then, a flash of light burst through the darkness. The thunderous sound of the gunshot echoed back and forth in the tunnel, overwhelming the screeches.

The shell, propelled by gunpowder, unleashed tremendous force as it whistled past the other monsters and accurately drilled into the leaping Pigman Cripple’s body.

Struck mid-leap, the creature fell to the ground. Its chest cavity was ripped open by the shot, yet it was not instantly killed; it still gasped for life.

”Damn it! I didn’t hit its eye,” Dismas cursed under his breath, furrowing his brow as he hurriedly reloaded another shell.

The battle, in fact, had already begun.