Chapter Sixteen: A Deadly Counterattack! The Witch Unleashed! Please Stay Tuned

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(Some have said it’s inappropriate to cut off the story here, so today I’ll add an extra chapter to celebrate reaching 1,608 followers—a good number. Please continue to support today and tomorrow.)

The Barbarian Berserker has two distinct abilities: one is an adrenaline surge that enhances overall strength, and the other is a berserk rage that greatly increases power and constitution but comes with a negative fury state. Duncan did not intend to engage the enemy in close combat, so the adrenaline surge was the optimal choice, even though it didn’t enhance his physical condition as drastically as the berserk rage.

On the battlefield, Barbarian Berserkers charge recklessly, making them nearly impossible to command, yet their combat prowess is formidable. Once their rage is triggered, you can literally take your hands off the keyboard—they will charge and relentlessly hunt down enemies on their own.

In ancient Roman times, barbarians fought without armor. When the Roman legions withstood the initial charge, they could slowly crush them. Today, however, barbarians also wear armor, vastly improving their survivability and making them considerably more difficult to deal with.

Stamina bar locked.

From a god’s-eye view, Duncan seemed to possess endless stamina. During the adrenaline surge, his stamina bar soared and locked at full.

The crosshair in the projection screen remained perfectly still.

The bow was like a full moon.

An arrow sliced through the air, aiming directly at a hermitic cultist not far away. The cultist appeared to be preparing to cast a spell, as he lingered at the rear of the enemy ranks. Yet, he held a cross in one hand and prayed—a clear sign, much like the witches, that he needed ritual implements to summon true magical power.

Headshot!

Duncan’s arrow shattered the cultist’s skull.

In this world, all spellcasters with supernatural powers must prepare in advance. If they only cast spells when warriors close in, they would have long since been hacked to death.

Now, even the hermitic cult’s chapel bore a grave expression.

They had never lost so many men hunting witches.

Duncan had just shot three enemies in succession. His threat level was even higher than the two fleeing witches. If they didn’t eliminate him first, everyone would be picked off by his arrows.

—Resting Recurve Shot.

Duncan fired rapidly. After killing the cultist, he immediately turned his aim toward a heretic inquisitor. The enemy wielded a knight’s shield and a heavy short sword in one hand—clearly weapons favored by the elite Roman legionnaires.

Clang.

The arrow was blocked by the shield. The heretic inquisitor’s reflexes were astonishing; earlier, he had already anticipated Duncan’s flying axe.

One arrow was not enough to kill him.

The enemy’s reaction speed was simply too fast, and with a shield, killing him was quite difficult.

At the same time, on the battlefield, the hermitic cult chapel retrieved a javelin from a fallen warhorse. He kept locking onto Duncan’s position, attempting to close in, the javelin thrown at a sixty-degree angle.

This guy was probably once an elite Roman legionnaire; otherwise, he couldn’t have thrown the javelin so accurately.

Duncan dared not stay in one place, nor retreat too far—if he withdrew, Severus was basically doomed.

The druid had given up his horse. Duncan couldn’t bear to see him die here.

Just then, Severus roared fiercely. As he clashed with the heretic inquisitor, he slammed his oak shield forward with tremendous force, knocking the opponent down and staggering him, exposing a clear opening.

Opportunity!

—Resting Recurve Shot.

Without hesitation, Duncan spun 180 degrees on horseback and shot behind him. It was as if his eyes were in the back of his head. Seizing the moment, he nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring taut, and released a sharp arrow that pierced the enemy’s chest.

The bowstring was fully drawn, the explosive power shocking. The enemy’s armor was penetrated; he spat a mouthful of blood.

In the projection screen, a javelin whizzed through the air.

Duncan did not hesitate, leapt from his horse, rolled on the ground with a grunt. The warhorse cried out as the javelin pierced through its body with deadly precision. Had Duncan not dodged, the javelin would have gone straight through him.

“Is this even human strength?”

The javelin pierced through the warhorse’s back from nearly a hundred meters away. If it had struck a person, it would have passed clean through the body.

Outnumbered two to one.

Severus smashed the enemy’s skull with his hammer, then advanced toward Duncan’s position with his oak shield. He was probably the only one who could hold a few blows against the hermitic cult chapel in close combat, but the opponent’s melee prowess was astonishing. Even the druid might not withstand many strikes.

Horse hooves sounded in the distance.

The two witches turned back, and nearby another cavalry unit rapidly approached.

—Arius faction cultist.

—Arius faction hermitic recluse (one star).

—Witch hunter instructor (two stars).

—Frankish holy knights (heavy cavalry) (one star) (three soldiers).

—Arius faction chapel warrior (two stars, silver-gray). [Note: Knights of the temple before the medieval era. Originally derived from the concept of a “sanctuary” in polytheism, they were elite warriors protecting sacred temples. Among barbarians, these knights were typically retired high-ranking warriors and chief’s bodyguards. The sanctuary referred to the core shrine area of a deity’s temple. Before the Common Era, barbarian tribal sanctuaries even assisted in training soldiers; for example, the temple of Artemis in ancient Greece trained archers.

In the pre-Common Era, many civilizations centered on “state affairs, only worship and warfare.” The worship involved grand national ceremonies, with the sanctuary as the core for public rituals.]

Damn!

Now Duncan truly couldn’t hold back a curse.

The Arius faction had long been at odds with Roman Catholicism due to doctrinal disputes, but when it came to the old polytheistic religions, they formed a united front.

The Arius faction had taken root in barbarian lands, spreading their faith among the barbarians, constantly clashing with polytheistic priests and many supernatural beings. Yet, bit by bit, they eroded the polytheistic faith’s territory.

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The Ostrogoths, Franks, and their three tribal branches, even the Saxons, Alemanni, Celts, and others had Arius faction missionaries.

Now, they were caught in a pincer attack by two church factions.

Duncan nocked another arrow, aiming at the hermitic cult chapel ahead. Only by eliminating him first could he find a chance to lead Triss and Severus out. If they could temporarily shake off the pursuit and escape into the dense deep forest, Duncan’s god’s-eye view would still offer a chance to survive.

One arrow, two arrows, three arrows.

Duncan’s third arrow finally struck the chapel’s chest. But clad in armor, the enemy only grunted and charged forward swiftly.

Why no reaction yet?!

Had the witches’ magic failed?

The moment of direct confrontation: Severus’ oak shield was knocked aside by a body charge, followed by a painful grunt. Two of his fingers fell to the ground in halves. The hermitic cult chapel swung his sword, adapting quickly, slashing diagonally backward, slicing off Severus’ ring and little fingers.

Then, Severus struck the enemy’s head heavily with his shield. The cult chapel’s head merely shook, not even showing signs of dizziness.

With only three fingers remaining, Severus still gripped his one-handed hammer tightly. Their clash made it impossible for Duncan to lock targets precisely. Without hesitation, he drew his longsword and leapt, attacking the enemy’s right flank in a pincer maneuver.

He had overestimated the druid’s close combat ability. Severus could only hold out two or three strikes at most against the hermitic chapel.

—Combat Style: Beheading Strike.

Clang.

Sparks flew.

The hermitic chapel parried Duncan’s attack with both hands on his sword. The force was so great both fighters’ palms tingled. Duncan’s longsword cracked, but the enemy’s longsword only suffered minor damage.

Even with adrenaline surge active, Duncan’s physical condition still couldn’t surpass his enemy.

At that moment, Severus swung his hammer, smashing the enemy’s jaw. Blood splattered. The enemy’s skull shook.

If it weren’t for the lost fingers, this heavy blow might have decided the outcome.

An opening.

Duncan swung his sword at the enemy’s neck, while Severus slammed his shield heavily against the opponent’s head.

This was truly four hands against two fists!

The hermitic chapel stabbed back with his sword; the blade pierced Severus’ abdomen. Severus twisted slightly, bracing Duncan’s downward chop with his shoulder. Sparks flew. Though blood welled, the armor blocked most damage.

Too strong!

Beneath his cloak was armor; his physique was far from human and tougher than supernatural monsters.

Enemies were closing in from afar.

If the witches’ magic still couldn’t be cast, their entire group would likely be wiped out here.

“You’re the witch marked with the skull, right? Where’s your magic?!” Duncan swung his sword, forcing back the hermitic chapel. If Severus died, he had no chance of turning the tide.

They might not even escape.

But just then,

A fierce wind rose from the flat ground, stirring dust and sand.

From the god’s-eye view,

The Raven Queen—Triss’s mark flickered, then transformed.

—Witch—Triss [Blood-Red Skull Mark]!!!

A tangible supernatural force descended into reality. Amid the raging wind, Witch-Triss hovered several meters above the ground. Nearby, Anya’s eyes widened in shock.

She had clearly never seen another witch wield such terrifying power.

Damn!

So you can actually fly!

The wild wind howled.

Triss’s long hair whipped wildly in the sandstorm. Her eyes gleamed with a silver light like a bright moon. Her appearance changed—seductive and wickedly beautiful, no longer human but resembling a siren from ancient Greek myth.

She gently raised her hand toward Duncan.

Crack!

The sound of bones breaking echoed. The hermitic chapel’s face turned pale with fear, screaming, “Witch-Triss!”

They had been tracking Anya all along and had never recognized the Raven Queen-Triss, mistaking her for another witch in the gathering.

Only a few sacred named existences on the Inquisition list could confront this ancient high priestess left over from the old era.

Blood gushed forth!

The hermitic chapel’s limbs collapsed; the armor seemed to vanish. The entire body was crushed like a grotesque display, blood staining the ground crimson.

“Lord!”

“Save us!”

Nearby, the approaching Arius faction clerics were swept into the sandstorm. The cultist knelt and prayed, clutching a wooden cross fragment. In the projection, a faint white light flickered but was quickly crushed by the tangible magical power radiating from Witch-Triss.

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The cultist’s chest caved inward as if struck by immense force. Blood sprayed; he lay on the ground, breathing his last.

Amid the storm, eerie radiant light flickered.

The Arius faction chapel warrior’s arms suddenly flew off, followed by his legs being severed midair. Blood sprayed meters away.

A flock of crows appeared out of nowhere.

They swirled like black smoke and dark clouds, swooping at the Frankish holy knights, instantly pecking out their eyes. Amid their terrified, wailing screams, all enemies fell from their horses. The crows vanished into black smoke.

Triss’s figure flickered like a phantom. With a wave of her hand, she cleaved the witch hunter instructor in half. In the next second, a shower of severed limbs rained down.

On the entire battlefield, hardly any enemies remained standing.

Duncan was stunned.

But the Raven Queen-Triss’s voice, tinged with eerie hoarseness, soon rang out: “Don’t daze off. My magic won’t last long.”

“You finish them off!”

The wind gradually died down.

Duncan immediately snapped out of it, glancing at Triss hovering in midair nearby. He then dispatched the remaining enemies one by one with his sword.

Crack!

The rune talisman stone Triss held shattered midair. Her face instantly turned pale, and she began to fall.

Anya hurried forward to support her. Glancing at the broken talisman, she gasped, “Trivia?!”

Since the extinguishing of the Olympian sacred flame, this was the first time she had seen a rune talisman from the age of the gods. In ancient Rome, people often worshipped various deities, and certain stones bore unique inscriptions representing specific gods.

The Raven Queen-Triss’s mark shifted from “Witch” back to “Sorceress.”

Duncan rushed over to check on the sorceress.

How was this different from divine possession?

Even two-star silver-gray elites were formidable. Bearing a skull-marked leader boss tag, Duncan had guessed Triss’s magic might be truly fearsome.

Beside him, Anya showed profound reverence. To her, her own magic paled to mere tricks compared to Triss.

“Where does her magic come from?”

“Has she broken some limitation of the real world through that talisman?”

Too strong.

Triss’s display of power made Duncan almost believe he had entered a mythic era.

“Let’s go!”

Duncan looked at the weakened Triss, intending to lift her onto a horse. Then he reconsidered and said to Anya, “You take her.”

Without hesitation, he headed toward Severus, lifted the gravely wounded druid from the ground, and said solemnly, “Brother.”

“Hold on!”

“We’ll find a safe place to heal you soon.”

He instructed Triss to guide a simple bandage and hemostat for Severus, then prepared to ride with the druid, while Anya took Triss. The four survivors would find a place to rest.

By now, the adrenaline surge had ended, and Duncan felt as if his bones were about to shatter.

Anya walked quickly to the dead royal guard knight, her gaze devoid of emotion. She found a pouch filled with gold, took it, and said quietly, “I know where to find a Celtic priest.”

Then she gently closed the dead knight’s unseeing eyes and took up his longsword.

Apparently, it was a one-sided crush.

The witch Anya barely glanced at the corpses, took the weapon and gold, and helped the weakened Triss onto a horse.

—“Oathkeeper [Artifact][Longsword]: Forged from Damascus steel, a knightly sword brought back from the holy land of Jerusalem, blessed by a high-ranking cultist of the hermitic order and soaked in holy grail water. Possesses incredible power with armor-piercing, magic-breaking, and razor-sharp properties.”

Duncan took the hermitic cult chapel’s weapon. The others were unusable. Supporting the severely injured Severus, he withdrew.

Among the group, only Anya remained combat-capable.

The Roman noblewoman-like witch gritted her teeth, carrying the weak Triss, a knight’s longsword at her waist, reins in one hand, and frequently glanced back at Duncan, who was weary and riding with Severus.

Severus was unconscious, his abdominal wound bleeding through the bandages, staining them crimson.

Duncan was no better.

Though not outwardly wounded, he had fallen from his mount twice, feeling as if his ribs were broken. His health bar had dropped significantly, likely due to severe bruising.

If Severus hadn’t shielded him by guarding the horse’s flanks, Duncan probably wouldn’t be alive now.

“Hang in there, brother!”

Duncan rode one-handed, barely steadying the unconscious druid. Glancing at the pale Triss, he said to Anya, “Head into the mountains first!”

Under these circumstances, the deep forest was safer.

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