Chapter Eleven: The Shift of Divine Authority

Hiss! Pain!

Duncan gritted his teeth in obvious agony but said nothing, resembling a cold and ruthless warrior.

The witch removed the arrow from his back, wiped away the blood, and dressed the wound with herbs.

Her movements were gentle and skilled. When her slender fingers lightly brushed over Duncan’s strong, broad back, she paused ever so slightly.

Sitting by the campfire, Duncan looked at her with mild surprise. “You know medicine?”

The Raven Queen, Tris, lifted her golden hair that fell over her shoulders, added some dry wood to the fire, and smiled. “I serve Diana, goddess of the moon and the oak tree, and also the Roman goddess of the forest.”

“Medicine and herbalism are mandatory studies for every priestess, though we are not as proficient as the Druids.”

Duncan pricked up his ears at this and asked, “Do all priestesses like you possess magic?”

He noticed that few people here seemed to have supernatural powers.

Tris shook her head slightly. “No.”

“You must have a unique gift or be favored by the gods to wield witchcraft.”

I see.

No wonder their spellcasting resembles that of sorceresses rather than wizards.

Taking this rare chance to get closer to the witch, Duncan wanted to probe more about supernatural powers, so he asked curiously, “Where does your power come from? Talent or divine favor?”

Tris lifted her head, her blue eyes fixed on him for a moment before softly saying, “Both.”

“I am a born witch.”

“Long ago, I was chosen by the Trivia cult as the chief priestess, but the cult was soon disbanded, and many perished in the chaos.”

“The Romans abandoned their gods.”

“Our powers were withdrawn.”

Trivia?

Powers withdrawn? So she used to be stronger?

Duncan asked in puzzlement, “The Trivia cult? I’ve never heard of it.”

Tris’s voice carried a trace of sorrow as she replied, “Trivia refers to the great Greek goddess Hecate. After the empire conquered Greece, Diana’s worship merged with Hecate’s.”

“The cult originated on the Greek peninsula. Before the empire’s rise, the priestesses served Hecate.”

Can worldly wars affect the gods?

Obviously, the Roman Empire prevailed, so Diana merged with Hecate. Had Greek civilization won, it would have been Hecate who absorbed Diana.

The Romans abandoned their gods.

When Tris said this, her voice held a complex mixture of emotions.

Duncan pondered for a moment, then hesitantly asked, “Have you ever thought of resisting?”

Since you possess supernatural powers, you wouldn’t just sit idly by.

Tris gave a bitter smile, shaking her head. “Resist? How?”

“We face...” She glanced at the sky.

Duncan immediately fell silent.

If gods truly exist, or beings akin to them do, then the Roman gods are indeed on a completely different level. In the secular realm, since the Edict of Milan, the Church’s growth has been astonishing, already beginning to influence worldly power.

As time passed, the Church’s strength only grew, and in the Middle Ages, it could even affect royal successions.

Excommunication warnings aside.

Duncan flicked a spark from the fire and said to the witch beside him, “Tell me about your cult’s history.”

Tris stiffened for a moment and then whispered, “Do you know the story of the Golden Fleece?”

Duncan thought for a moment. “Some of it.”

Tris sighed. “Our cult traces its origins to one of the characters in that story.”

“The witch Medea.”

Duncan’s mind sparked with recognition.

Tris continued slowly, “Medea was the daughter of Aeëtes, king of Colchis, and the Oceanid Idia; niece of the witch Circe of Aeaea; sister of Absyrtus; granddaughter of Helios, the sun god, and Perse, the Oceanid; and priestess of the dark moon goddess Hecate.”

“She was the first high priestess of our cult.”

An era when gods and mortals coexisted.

It seems this land was quite lively in the mythic age.

Tris recounted the cult’s origins: initially priestesses serving the Greek gods; after Rome’s rise and conquest of Greece, the gods merged, and the priesthoods combined, eventually forming new branches of worship. The only god largely unaffected was Apollo, who was both a Greek and Roman sun god, allowing the temples’ priests to merge seamlessly.

Of course, whether the gods truly merged or simply hedged their bets remains unknown.

Because Tris had never seen a true deity—or rather, no priestess in the cult’s records ever saw a god’s true form—divine guidance and oracles only appeared in mythic times.

The closest mortals ever came to the gods was centuries ago, when the Son of God walked the world.

Night deepened.

Duncan glanced at the witch lying semi-asleep beside him. He could sense her deep despair. The Romans abandoned their gods, and these priestesses were likewise forsaken. The Church’s power crushed their millennia-old faith. The dark Middle Ages were looming, and this land was growing less and less hospitable to them.

After the Olympic sacred fire was extinguished, whether Roman or Greek gods, all became relics of history.

Duncan suddenly recalled a piece of history he had read somewhere: Attila the Hun, the Scourge of God, met with Pope Leo I before besieging Rome. Legend says he withdrew his attack because of this meeting. Pope Leo I was thereafter hailed as the “Defender of Rome.”

Later, an image remained depicting Saints Peter and Paul protecting the Pope, warning barbarian tribes against invading the “Eternal City” of Rome.

After the fall of the Roman Empire, the Church’s power exploded.

During this time, it was essentially a process of unifying divine authority. The gods of the old era were swept into history’s dustbin, and worship was gradually banned. Although Germanic tribal gods survived a little longer, the European continent would eventually see a unified faith.

“There’s definitely something fishy going on here!”

To Duncan, if there were no supernatural powers, the shift in divine authority would be purely a political choice. But if there were, then this was far more intriguing.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll head to Britain.”

“Besides, I can help the Irish, Welsh, and Scots resist the Anglo-Saxons, and maybe boost my legendary status.”

“The first incarnation must not die in vain.”

“I have a feeling the final achievements of the mortal form will affect everything I have in the dimensional space.”

The legend of King Arthur, tied to the Lady of the Lake and Avalon shrouded in mist, didn’t delve into truly terrifying beings.

Duncan knew his own limits.

The Romans abandoned their gods; why should he, a foreigner, get involved in their affairs?

Better to hunt some legendary monsters, see if he could seize their powers, and make himself a formidable supernatural being.

—“Master Archer [Sharpshooter Title]: Your archery has reached divine levels, becoming legendary among mortals. Enhanced rapid fire, intimidation in battle, and greatly improved accuracy.”

—“Equestrian Mastery: Your horsemanship rivals that of elite nomads, allowing you to become one with your steed.”

—“Mounted Archery Mastery: Your mounted archery is profoundly skilled, rivaling the finest Hunnic riders. Greatly increased mounted archery accuracy, enabling you to perform various advanced techniques such as rapid fire, multi-shot, sniping, and more.”

Duncan glanced at the witch by the fire. His gaze lingered momentarily on her shapely, poised curves revealed by her soaked clothes. He swallowed and took out a small notebook to tally.

—“Day Four: 22 heads.”

The witch was both a capable fighter and healer, and well-endowed.

No wonder, in the future shaped by the law of causality, the mortal form was utterly captivated by her. If not for the Lady of the Lake’s interference, it might have been a beautiful love story.

Medea.

Duncan knew this mythical figure—a powerful witch driven mad by love, who turned dark after being betrayed by her husband and embarked on a path of vengeance.

Overall, Medea was indeed known as a witch, but ultimately a tragic figure.

...

The Alps.

Duncan had no idea exactly where they were, but it felt near Munich, as they could see snow-capped mountains from here.

After entering Gaul through the mountains, it was Tris who led them. They avoided densely populated areas, traveling along mountain paths for a day and night before finally reaching a lush, dense forest.

“Traveling is really inconvenient in this era.”

Due to a heavy rain yesterday, Duncan’s feet were caked in mud. Tris was no better, her face grimy and weary, no longer the dazzling beauty she had been.

People depend on their attire. Otherwise, even the most exquisite beauty can look like a rustic village woman after rolling in the mud.

Duncan was now certain Tris had the physique of an ordinary human, perhaps slightly stronger. She had slipped while entering the Alps, and if Duncan hadn’t caught her quickly, she might have been injured.

Still, her clothes were covered in mud, and her golden hair soaked with rain and dirt clung to her forehead, revealing a smooth expanse of skin.

“You said the guide is nearby? Could he be living in the mountains?”

It was still drizzling lightly, soaking them and bringing a chill. Duncan was somewhat better off, having inherited the ‘strength’ talent from a barbarian, but Tris’s lips had turned pale from the cold.

The witch looked quite disheveled. “He should be nearby.”

Duncan, not paying much attention to her wet silhouette, took off the coat he had stripped from a dead man and threw it to her. “Put this on first.”

“There’s a shelter up ahead. Let’s rest there before continuing.”

About a hundred meters away was a slope at a forty-five-degree angle—barely a cave but enough for two people to huddle under for shelter.

Perhaps due to acquiring the barbarian warrior’s talent, Duncan’s wounds healed faster than expected. It could also be the herbs the witch gathered or even some magic she cast on him.

“Witches are flesh and blood too.”

Looking at the weary witch, Duncan let her sit further inside where he could shield her from the wind with his tall frame.

Unable to find dry wood nearby to start a fire, Duncan glanced at her and said, “You rest here. I’ll go look for some firewood.”

---

From God’s perspective.

Go!

Duncan found a spot with a broad view, briefly meditated, and his consciousness entered the dimensional space. A large map projected before his eyes.

“Can you enlarge the map?”

With a thought, a terrain map covering over ten miles appeared. He located a village marker and, several miles away, a wooden cabin.

“That must be it.”

Druids wouldn’t live far from human settlements; after all, they still needed food and supplies.

“Why is there a red marker?”

Duncan noticed a flashing red dot at the map’s edge. Before he could switch perspective to investigate, it vanished.

Human? Or monster?

He returned, called the witch, and they made their way unevenly toward the cabin.

The cabin was empty.

But it contained some basic supplies. Duncan didn’t hesitate to gather some firewood and light a fire. The two huddled beside it for warmth. Duncan roasted some jerky on his longsword and handed a piece to the witch.

She accepted it cautiously and whispered, “Thank you.”

Duncan bit into a piece of jerky. His northern warbow lay at his right hand, ready for battle. He hadn’t eaten any decent food on the journey; even the inn meal was barely enough.

He’d better get some wild game for a proper feast.

This must be a Druid’s hideout. The cabin held many mysterious symbols and odd bone crafts, likely ritual implements.

After some time,

Footsteps approached outside. The witch immediately glanced at Duncan, who picked up his warbow and stood behind the door.

—Druid (Two Stars) [Neutral]!

A burly man with hair and beard resembling tangled roots stood outside. He wore animal pelts, a helmet with deer antlers, carried an oak shield in one hand and a war hammer in the other. A dagger hung from his waist. His leg was injured, bleeding faintly.

Duncan sniffed the air and detected a strong stench of decay.

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