"I agree."

Vitrik jumped off the flamethrower, handed the thing to his slave rats, and turned to the warlord.

"Detonating half of the fuel should have the same effect."

The old engineering warlock said to Ikrit.

"But we can't waste time taking it back."

"We can't let him get caught by the stickman."

"As you wish."

The old engineering warlock swung his tail and said.

While Vitrik went to select the rats that would follow him, Iklit stepped on several slave rats to lift himself up.

Not far away are still fighting, the mercenaries of the Gray Prophet. The fact that these rats can resist for so long when the Gray Prophet ran away first shows that they are better than those guys who died.

At the same time, it made the old warlord irritated enough, and he yelled at the Storm Rats gathered in the middle.

"The Gray Prophet is dead!"

"You slaves, you still haven't surrendered!"

The sharp rattle can be heard clearly even in the surrounding side roads.

After a while, the storm rats who were supervising the battle behind the clan rats started whispering to each other.

After hundreds of corpses fell in front of the front at a one-to-two exchange ratio, one of the Storm Rats, with three large Skaven skulls embedded in its helmet, stood up.

"I can cease the war, but you must ensure that we can leave the underground fortress."

The old warlord could see that as soon as the skull-helmeted Storm Rat finished speaking, his arm was pulled several times by several other Storm Rats.

Ikrit guessed that the storm rats might not be satisfied with the conditions offered by this guy.

Among mercenaries, there are always some unclear-minded guys who are still thinking about getting the final payment at the critical moment of life and death.

"You will be the first batch of breakout troops. After you go out, I will not interfere with you in the underground world. Think clearly, I will not give you other opportunities."

The Storm Rats looked unkindly, but they could only twitch their bodies in place due to their overly fast metabolism.

There are more than a thousand Storm Rats among their remaining troops, which is a powerful enough military force no matter where in the underground empire. Based on one Storm Rat commanding a team of 169 people, the military force can be expanded to 100,000. Right now

But being treated like this by Ikrit, I suddenly felt like a tiger has fallen into disgrace.

"The skeleton thing is still chasing you. If you insist on humiliating us, we can die with you."

The one who spoke out was still the Storm Rat wearing a skull helmet. In order to strengthen his persuasiveness, the Rune Knife in the Storm Rat's hand pointed at Iklit, but in return it was still the disdain of the old warlord.

"Really? Mercenary? Do you think I have been fighting the war at the bottom of the mountain for fifty years and don't know what kind of fighting force you are?"

Iklit's claws remained on the saber at his waist, looking mockingly at the hundreds of storm rat corpses scattered around the mercenaries.

"My conditions will not change. If you act swiftly enough, I can save most of your lives."

The expressions on the faces of the Storm Rats in the middle are uncertain, time is still passing, and the Clan Rats, and even the Storm Rats, are still falling one after another.

Finally, after hundreds more corpses were left behind, the sharp rattles of dozens of storm rats spread throughout the battlefield.

"Bloody slaves! Turn around and call a truce!"

Ikrit opened his mouth, and his volume was no weaker than the other person's.

"Let them go."

Both sides stepped back a few claws' distance almost simultaneously, revealing the first row of soldiers covered in scars.

"Then let's go, we agreed."

The old warlord drew out his saber, waved it in the air, and signaled a leader on the left to give way to a side road.

"Bear it all, bear it, you know."

Storm Rat whispered to his colleagues beside him.

A group of Storm Rats seemed to have thought of something. They stared at Ikrit maliciously and slowly retreated towards the flank with their own troops.

"You just let them go?"

A hooded rat appeared next to Ikrit, carrying a faint smell of blood.

"We only have tens of thousands of troops, so there is no need to continue fighting."

Ikrit sheathed his sword and returned to the ground from the slave.

"Then let's talk about the thirty thousand storm rats that the engineering warlocks heard about."

Eshiliga lowered his voice and continued.

"The follow-up troops will definitely not reach 5 million, but they are likely to approach 1 million. Who will take command? You, the former commander-in-chief of the mountain war?"

"Maybe not."

Iklit's claws brushed against the warpstone on the handle of the knife.

"But in the underground fortress, the only lords who can command the combined forces mobilized by the big city are Vitrik, the gray lord, Quickwall, the gray prophet, and Staden, who just died."

"Wilski is seriously injured and Quickwall is a madman. Unless they send another one, I will still be the commander-in-chief."

"That was the situation fifty years ago. They needed to maintain a superficial balance before letting a rootless guy like you come up."

"Then why don't you, a well-established person, join me?"

"Taking away a few thousand Storm Rats won't change the fact that 30,000 Storm Rats are coming. You might as well ask your people over there what's going on."

As he said that, Ikrit looked at the subordinates who had just finished the battle.

The exhausted rats squatted on the ground and began to rest. Some rats licked their wounds, and some rats put the food hidden in their cheek pouches into their mouths and chewed it. Suddenly, some putrid stench wafted into the air.<

/p>

These troops could not go into battle immediately, but he still remembered that the defense line in the rear had been broken.

At this moment, a pale arm covered with sarcoma grabbed Ikrit's shoulder. The unique smell made the warlord immediately recognize that it was the smell of the Gray Prophet.

He turned around and saw that he was indeed an old madman.

"Quickwall?!"

The Gray Seer didn't know when he appeared here. Considering the spellcaster's methods, it's not that strange.

"The barbarian witch has a way to detect your location."

"Do you have any way to stop it?"

"Fight, fight, fight for the Horned Rat."

It starts again, this old madman!

Ikrit cursed secretly in his mind, but could not get angry at the former gray-clothed lord.

There was a burst of smoke and green flash, and the white-furred Skaven appeared in the center of the green smoke.

"There are other spellcastings here..."

The engineer warlock had just finished the dizzy feeling of teleportation, and asked, but stopped under the gaze of the gray prophet.

"Engineer Eski, you killed Staden, the agent of the Horned Rat, a Gray Seer."

The Gray Prophet's voice was not loud, but it was unusually loud enough for everyone in the cave to hear clearly.

Vitrik, who had not participated in the exchange originally, also gathered around his slaves.

The white-haired engineering warlock knelt on one knee, exposed his neck, and spoke humbly in a weak voice.

"What kind of compensation does the Horned Rat need from his humble servant?"

The dimensional stones in the eyes of the blind gray prophet stared closely at the Engineer Warlock's eyes, and then moved to the Engineer Warlock's right paw.

"Two magical creatures are on their way, and there are no stars visible here."

"My people will stop them."

Vitrik suddenly interrupted at this time.

"No stars can be seen here."

The dimensional stone in the Gray Prophet's eye socket was pointed at the old engineering warlock, but his empty tone was still the same as before.

"Can't we contact the Horned Rat? How about we sacrifice a 169-man team?"

Eski asked, but the Gray Prophet did not answer his question. He twitched his scarred nose and looked at a passage on the left with the warpstone embedded in his eye sockets.

"Here we go."

"The descendants of the Horned Rat cannot lose too much this time."

"I'm going to break up the queen."

Eski lowered his head completely, as if waiting for the Gray Prophet's order or judgment.

Eshiliga's claws moved, but Ikrit caught him.
To be continued...