The three fighters at the bottom of the stairs looked sure of themselves. They had their weapons drawn, and dark energy crackled around them.
They had been left behind deliberately to slow down any pursuit, and they clearly thought they could handle a blacksmith and his assistant. But they were wrong to underestimate Greg and Bork, who already anticipated it.
The tall man with a scar on his face, who led the group, said, "So you're the famous Greg Greyson."
"Elias told us about you. The pacifist who believes that farming tools can make the world a better place."
Greg didn't say anything. He just kept walking forward, and the modified hoe he was carrying was glowing with energy.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" The man with the scars smiled. "That's okay. Instead, we'll make you scream like a little bitch who cries for their momma!!!"
