Run A Medical Clinic In The Abyssal World

Chapter 76: The Wolverine Strikes!

The magic shield resembled an inverted bowl, thin and smooth, with a radiant sheen.

If the force of an attack wasn't sufficient, it appeared invincible, impervious to any crushing or smashing, as solid as a rock.

But once the force of the attack exceeded its limit, even a light scratch could create a gap in the shield, allowing easy entry.

The invader this time was a terrifying presence of such nature.

Charlotte tossed away the black stone in his hand, grasped his sword with both hands, concealed magic runes in his sleeves, jumped off the bed, and retreated to the wall, his expression solemn as he watched the direction of the window.

A sharp claw suddenly pierced through the window. It was a silver claw, one foot long, resembling three curved blades, firmly gripping the window frame.

Bang!

The entire window was flung away as if swung by a great force. And in the hollow where the window once stood, there stood a gray, terrifying werewolf.

It had a body as strong and tall as a brown bear, with crimson fierce eyes fixed on Charlotte. The corners of its upturned mouth revealed sharp fangs, and its claws, as sharp as knives, merely gripping the stone wall left deep imprints.

"I heard you were once a high-level mage. So, what happened? Did you switch careers to become a knight after losing your source of magic?" The werewolf mocked Charlotte, who held the sword, his face tense and vigilant.

"Now that I can no longer rely on magic, having a sword in hand provides some sense of security." Charlotte tried to speak calmly, but his voice still carried a slight tremor.

It wasn't a sign of weakness; he was genuinely afraid!

Damn it!

This is a werewolf that can easily break through magical defenses.

It's at least a level three entity, and more likely a level four.

And here he was, just a knight apprentice who hadn't even trained for three days.

Werewolves are one of the most formidable combatant races.

The figure standing on the window right now, with explosive muscle definition, wolf-like claws as sharp as blades, covered in scars, and piercing eyes, all of it highlighted his terrifying strength.

Even if Wolfie were here, today he would have to bow down and acknowledge his prowess.

With strength, agility, and combat experience, the werewolf outclassed Charlotte in every aspect!

Charlotte subconsciously glanced outside.

"No need to look. The fox guards on the street have already been led away. It will take at least ten minutes for them to return," the werewolf sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And I only need one minute to take your head."

Charlotte's heart sank instantly. It was clear the werewolf's words were true; otherwise, the commotion here would have attracted the wolf guards long ago.

Having a level four werewolf sent to kill him, the extent of Carol's regard for him was truly catching him off guard.

Perhaps tomorrow someone would discover his lifeless body.

Cause of death: Killed by a werewolf.

No, it's not over yet. I still have some aces up my sleeve!

Charlotte pushed away the cluttered thoughts in his mind, trying to calm himself as much as possible.

He couldn't rely on the fox guards for now; he had to depend on himself, at least for the next ten minutes.

Vivian should have been awakened by the noise, but that girl was somewhat clever. She didn't rush over recklessly to see what was happening.

The master bedroom wasn't large, just a dozen square meters, with only a bed and a small wardrobe, no extra furniture.

The only window was currently occupied by the werewolf. Opening the unlocked door would take some time, which was enough for the werewolf to chop off his head three times.

The only comforting thought for Charlotte was that he was familiar with such limited combat spaces.

But it also meant that this would be a fight with no way out.

Either lie down and die, or stand up and live.

Charlotte stared intensely at the werewolf, slowly tightening his grip on the judgment sword. Fear and panic appeared on his face, and his voice trembled as he asked, "Who are you, and why do you want to kill me?"

The werewolf seemed satisfied with Charlotte's crumbling state before his death, sneering contemptuously. "Since you're going to die, I might as well tell you. I am Wolverine. As for the reason for killing you, you can only blame yourself for provoking the wrong person."

"Let me go, and I'll give you all my wealth." Charlotte kicked the money chest under the bed, causing the box to fall and the coins to scatter on the ground.

"Don't worry, after you're dead, I'll help myself, including the woman in the next room. I bet she'll taste delicious. I'll savor her." The Wolverine glanced at the scattered coins on the ground without care, grinning. The half-wall he was stepping on collapsed with a loud crash as his massive body lunged toward Charlotte.

With its open bloody mouth exuding a strong smell of blood, its raised right claw, and three sharp claws-like blades, it aimed for Charlotte's neck.

The terrifying pressure would have already rendered an ordinary person unable to move.

At this moment, Charlotte behaved like a frightened ordinary human, holding the sword in his hand but not even drawing it from its scabbard, standing there like a lamb to be slaughtered.

The Wolverine's eyes were full of disdain and mockery. Indeed, humans were the most useless inferior race.

He had suffered losses from human mages before, but as soon as he got close, those mages waving their delicate magic wands were no match, their necks snapping without any resistance.

And this waste in front of him, deprived of the source of magic, was even more useless.

Decapitate him and take the head back, and his body would make a good meal.

Human flesh, tender and delicate, with no need for any preparation, is the most delicious.

The menacing claws made the dim candlelight seem piercing, and he seemed to have already seen the scene of the human's slender neck being severed, blood splattering.

This feeling was familiar to him, and he enjoyed it.

He was even beginning to feel excited.

The shadow cast by the Wolverine enveloped Charlotte, making him appear even smaller.

The claw, like three sharp blades, was surrounded by three dazzling white lights, causing a stinging sensation on Charlotte's skin from a distance.

Charlotte's heart was pounding violently at this moment. Memories of being beheaded countless times in the mysterious space flooded his mind, but instead of losing himself, it made his mind unusually clear.

In his vision, the werewolf's movements seemed to be slowing down, like frames of a played-out picture.

It leaped high, exposing its abdomen, swung its claws, its muscles as strong as steel, and its eyes full of disdain... Countless pieces of information rushed into his mind.

In the small room, the werewolf leaped and arrived in front of Charlotte, aiming its claw at his neck.

Just as the claw was about to fall on Charlotte's neck, the expression of panic disappeared from his face, replaced by absolute calmness.

Clang!

Drawing the sword, he struck!

The black Judgment Sword instantly unsheathed, carrying the force of thunder, slashing toward the Wolverine's abdomen.

The look of contempt vanished from the Wolverine's eyes, replaced by panic for the first time on his face.

He sensed a lethal aura emanating from that black longsword!

Although it appeared to be just a broken sword tip, it was full of sharpness and overwhelming killing intent, claiming countless souls beneath its blade.

And this seemingly weak human drew the sword too quickly!

He couldn't even see how he unsheathed the sword; it was already slashing toward his most vulnerable abdomen.

The speed, and the precision of the timing, all revealed a seasoned experience.

Wasn't he a magic caster deprived of his magic source?

Since when did he become a knight?

And from the moment he broke the window, he had been pretending to be weak, only to deliver a thunderous blow at the critical moment.

The Wolverine was suspended in mid-air, unable to dodge properly, but also unwilling to risk his life by directly confronting Charlotte's strike.

His claw, about to swipe down on Charlotte's neck, changed its trajectory, grabbing at that black longsword.

The sword was sharp, but the person wielding it wasn't strong enough.

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