Chapter 17: Desperate Counterattack! The Witch Goes Berserk! Please Follow!

(Someone said we can’t end the chapter here, so today I’m adding an extra chapter. Celebrating 1,680 followers. A good number. Today and tomorrow, please help me with your follow reads.)

The barbarian berserker has two branch abilities: adrenaline surge, which enhances all stats, and rage, which greatly boosts strength and constitution but induces a furious negative state. Deng Ken doesn’t intend to engage in close combat, so adrenaline surge is the optimal choice, even though its physical enhancement isn’t as dramatic as rage.

Barbarian berserkers charge randomly on the battlefield, nearly impossible to command, yet their combat power is extremely formidable. Once they enter rage, you can take your hands off the keyboard—they’ll charge and hunt enemies on their own.

In ancient Roman times, barbarians fought unarmored; the Roman legions could withstand the first charge and slowly slaughter them.

Now the barbarians wear armor, their survivability greatly increased, making them far more difficult to deal with.

Stamina locked.

From the divine perspective, Deng Ken seemed to possess infinite stamina; during the duration of adrenaline surge, his stamina bar surged and locked at maximum.

The crosshair in the projection remained perfectly still.

Bow drawn taut!

An arrow pierced the air, directly targeting the Hermitage monk nearby—he too must have been preparing a spell, as he always lagged behind the enemy ranks. Yet his method of casting involved holding a crucifix in one hand while praying, clearly like the witches, requiring ritual tools to channel true magical power.

Headshot!

Deng Ken’s arrow shattered his skull.

In this world, all spellcasters with supernatural power must prepare in advance; if they tried casting when warriors closed in, they’d have been hacked to death long ago.

Even the Hermitage High Priest now wore a grim expression.

They’d never lost so many men chasing witches before.

Deng Ken had just killed three in succession; his threat level now exceeded that of the two fleeing witches. If they didn’t eliminate him first, everyone would be shot down.

——Resting Reversal Arrow.

Deng Ken fired as if in rapid succession: after killing the Hermitage monk, he instantly turned and aimed at the Heretic Inquisitor—the enemy held a knight’s shield and a one-handed heavy shortsword, clearly a weapon favored by elite Roman legions.

Clang.

The arrow was blocked by the shield; the Heretic Inquisitor’s reaction speed was astonishing—he’d already anticipated Deng Ken’s Frankish throwing axe earlier.

One shot won’t kill him.

The enemy’s reaction speed is too fast, and he’s wielding a shield; taking him down is extremely difficult.

Meanwhile.

On the battlefield, the Hermitage High Priest had pulled a javelin from the dead horse’s body. He continuously locked onto Deng Ken’s position, trying to close in; the javelin was already angled at sixty degrees for throwing.

This man must have once been an elite of the Roman legions; otherwise, his javelin lock-on couldn’t be this precise.

Deng Ken dared not stay in one place, nor retreat too far, because if he withdrew, Severus would be dead for sure.

The druid had given up his horse; Deng Ken couldn’t let him die here.

Just then.

Severus suddenly roared—he slammed his oak shield into the Heretic Inquisitor mid-combat, and with tremendous force, flipped the enemy backward, staggering him and exposing a clear opening.

Opportunity!

——Resting Reversal Arrow.

Deng Ken didn’t hesitate—he twisted his body 180 degrees on horseback and shot backward, as if eyes grew on the back of his head. Seizing the moment, he nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring taut, and let fly—a shaft pierced the enemy’s chest.

The bow drawn fully, the force was staggering—the enemy’s armor was pierced, and a gush of blood erupted.

In the projection, a javelin streaked through the air.

Deng Ken didn’t hesitate—he leapt off the horse, rolled on the ground, grunted in pain, and the horse screamed as the javelin struck with terrifying accuracy, piercing straight through its body. Had Deng Ken not dodged, it would have impaled him clean through.

“Is this even human strength?”

At nearly a hundred meters, the javelin pierced through the horse’s spine—if it hit a person, it would punch straight through their body.

Two against one.

Severus smashed the enemy’s skull with his hammer, then advanced toward Deng Ken with his oak shield. Only he could possibly trade blows with the Hermitage High Priest for a few seconds—but the enemy’s close-combat prowess was astonishing; even the druid might not survive more than two or three strikes.

Hoofbeats echoed from afar.

The two witches had turned back, and on the map’s distant edge, another cavalry unit was rapidly approaching.

——Arian monks.

——Arian Hermit (One Star).

——Witch Hunter Instructor (Two Star).

——Frankish Holy Knight (Heavy Cavalry) (One Star) (three).

——Arian Temple Warrior (Two Star, Silver-Gray). [Note: Pre-medieval Templars. Originally derived from the pagan concept of “Sacred Ground,” these were elite warriors who guarded sacred sites. Among barbarians, they were former high-ranking warriors and chieftain guards. Sacred Ground referred roughly to the core temple precincts of a deity. In pre-Christian times, barbarian tribal temples trained warriors; the Temple of Artemis in ancient Greece, for instance, trained archers.]

In pre-Christian eras, the core of all major civilizations was “State Affairs: Sacrifice and War.” The sacrifices referred to grand state rituals held at the Sacred Ground as their center.]

Fuck!

Deng Ken finally couldn’t hold back his curse.

The Arians and Roman Catholics had long been at odds over doctrinal disputes, yet when confronting the old pagan religions, they stood as united allies.

The Arians had taken root among barbarian territories, spreading their faith and clashing constantly with pagan priests and other supernatural beings, yet they had slowly eroded the pagan faith’s territory.

Arian missionaries existed among the Visigoths, the three Frankish tribes, and even the Saxons, Alemanni, and Celts.

They were being encircled by both church factions.

Deng Ken nocked another arrow, aiming at the Hermitage High Priest ahead. Only by eliminating him first could he find an opening to flee with Tris and Severus. If they could break free temporarily and escape into the dense wilderness, Deng Ken’s divine perspective still gave them a chance to survive.

One arrow, two arrows, three arrows.

Deng Ken’s third arrow finally struck the Hermitage High Priest’s chest, but the man wore armor—he merely grunted and charged forward at speed.

Why isn’t it activating?!

Has the witch’s magic failed?

In the instant of close combat, Severus’s oak shield was shoved aside, followed by his pained grunt—two half-fingers fell to the ground. The Hermitage High Priest swung his blade, shifting tactics mid-strike, slicing diagonally backward and cleanly severing the druid’s ring and little fingers.

He was then struck hard on the head by Severus’s shield—he merely shook his head, no dizziness indicator appearing.

The druid still gripped his one-handed hammer with his remaining three fingers. Their clashing forms made it impossible for Deng Ken to lock onto a target—he drew his longsword and lunged forward, attacking from the right flank in a surprise ambush.

He’d overestimated the druid’s close-combat ability; Severus could barely hold out two or three strikes against the Hermitage High Priest.

——Combat Style: Decapitation.

Clang.

Sparks flew.

The Hermitage High Priest blocked Deng Ken’s strike with both hands on his sword. The forceful blow numbed both their palms—Deng Ken’s longsword chipped, but the enemy’s blade suffered only minor damage.

Even with adrenaline surge activated, his physical stats still couldn’t match the enemy’s.

At that moment, Severus swung his hammer and smashed it into the enemy’s chin—blood sprayed, and the skull trembled.

Had he not lost two fingers earlier, that blow might have decided the fight.

Opportunity.

Deng Ken slashed toward the enemy’s neck; Severus slammed his shield into the enemy’s head with his left hand.

This was true “two fists against four hands!”

The Hermitage High Priest thrust his sword backward—it pierced Severus’s abdomen. He twisted slightly, taking Deng Ken’s slash on his shoulder. The blade bit deep, sparks flew, blood seeped out, but the armor absorbed most of the damage.

Too strong!

Beneath his robe, the man wore full armor—his physical constitution wasn’t human at all, tougher than a supernatural monster.

More enemies were approaching from afar.

If the witch’s magic still hadn’t activated, all of them would die here.

“Aren’t you the witch marked by the skull? Where’s your magic?!”

Deng Ken slashed forward, forcing back the Hermitage High Priest—once Severus died, he’d have no chance to turn the tide.

Even escape might be impossible.

But just then.

A violent wind erupted from nowhere, instantly stirring up dust and stones.

From the divine perspective.

The Crow Queen—Tris’s marker flashed, then transformed.

——Witch—Tris [Blood Skull Marker]!!!

A tangible supernatural force descended upon reality. Amid the raging wind, Witch—Tris floated several meters above the ground; beside her, Ania stared in stunned disbelief.

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

Holy shit!

So you can fly?!

The wind raged.

Tris’s long hair whipped wildly through the storm of dust; her eyes glowed silver like moonlight, her appearance altered—seductive, demonic, no longer human, more like a Greek mythic lamia.

She gently raised her hand and clenched it toward Deng Ken’s direction.

Crack!

The sound of snapping bones rang out. The Hermitage High Priest’s face twisted in terror as he screamed: “Witch—Tris!”

They’d been tracking Ania and never recognized Crow Queen—Tris.

They’d assumed she was just another member of a witch gathering.

On the Inquisition’s list, only a handful of beings bearing the title “Saint” could possibly confront this ancient high priestess.

Blood gushed!

The Hermitage High Priest’s limbs collapsed inward; his armor seemed nonexistent—he was crushed into a human pillar, blood pouring out and staining the ground crimson.

“Lord!”

“Save us!”

The Arian priests approaching nearby were also engulfed by the swirling sandstorm; the hermitage monk knelt in prayer, clutching fragments of a wooden cross, and within the projected image, a faint, different white glow faintly emerged—only to be instantly crushed by the tangible magical force radiating from the Crow Queen—Tris.

The hermitage monk’s chest caved in, as if struck by immense force; blood sprayed out, and he collapsed onto the ground, barely clinging to his last breath.

In the howling wind, an eerie, radiant light flickered.

The Arian holy warriors’ arms suddenly flew upward, then their legs were severed midair, blood spurting several meters away.

A flock of crows appeared out of thin air.

They surged like black smoke and dark clouds, attacking the Frankish knights, pecking out their eyes in an instant; amid a chorus of terrified, piercing screams, all enemies tumbled from their horses. The crows swept through the air, dissolving into black smoke, and Tris’s figure flashed into view—she swept her hand, slicing the witch-hunter instructor in half, and the next second, limbs and severed body parts rained down from above.

On the entire battlefield, almost no enemy remained standing.

Deng Ken was stunned.

But the Crow Queen—Tris’s slightly eerie, hoarse voice soon rang out: “Don’t freeze. My magic won’t last long.”

“You finish them off!”

The gale began to subside.

Deng Ken snapped to attention, his gaze sweeping past Tris, hovering midair, and with one swift slash, he ended each enemy.

Crack!

In midair, the rune-etched altar stone clutched by the Crow Queen—Tris shattered; her face turned instantly deathly pale, and she tumbled from the air.

Ania rushed forward to support her, her eyes flickering over the broken altar stone, shocked: “Trivium?!”

After the Olympus sacred fire had gone out, this was the first time she had seen a rune-etched altar stone from the Age of Gods. In ancient Roman times, common people often made offerings to various deities, and certain stones bore unique symbols representing specific gods.

The Crow Queen—Tris’s label had changed again—from “Witch” back to “Witch.”

Deng Ken hurried forward to check on the witch.

What’s the difference between this and divine descent?

Even a two-star silver-gray elite was this powerful; the Crow Queen—Tris bore a boss-mark shaped like a skull, and Deng Ken had already guessed her magic must be terrifying.

Ania beside him was also filled with awe; in her eyes, her own magic seemed laughably trivial compared to Tris’s.

“Where did her magic come from?”

“Did she use that altar stone to break some restriction of reality?”

Too powerful.

The power Tris had just displayed made Deng Ken almost believe he had stepped into the age of myth.

“Go!”

Deng Ken looked at the frail Tris, preparing to lift her onto a horse—but quickly realized, and turned to Ania: “You take her.”

Saying this, he dashed toward Severus, lifted the gravely wounded druid, and said grimly: “Brother.”

“Hold on!”

“We’ll find a safe place to treat your wounds right away.”

He had Tris guide him in bandaging the druid’s wounds to stop the bleeding, then prepared to ride with Severus on one horse, while Ania carried Tris; the four survivors would find a place to rest.

His adrenaline surge had ended; Deng Ken felt as if every bone in his body were about to fall apart.

Ania strode to the corpse of the Praetorian knight, her gaze emotionless; she searched his body and found a pouch filled entirely with gold. She took it and said firmly: “I know where to find a Celtic priest.”

Then she closed the knight’s unseeing eyes with a casual motion, and picked up his longsword.

Looks like it was truly unrequited.

The witch—Ania didn’t even glance twice at the corpses on the ground; she grabbed the weapon and gold, then helped the weakened Tris onto the horse.

——“Oathkeeper 【Artifact】【Longsword】: Forged from Damascus steel, a knight’s sword brought back from the Holy Land of Jerusalem, blessed by a high-ranking hermitage monk, soaked in the Water of the Holy Grail, possessing unimaginable power. Traits: Armor-Piercing, Magic-Piercing, Keen.”

Deng Ken took only the hermitage holy temple’s weapon; the others were unusable. He supported the gravely wounded Severus and withdrew from the site.

Of the entire group, only Ania remained combat-capable.

The Roman noblewoman-looking witch gritted her teeth, clutching the frail Tris, fastened the knight’s longsword to her waist, held the reins with one hand, and occasionally glanced back at Deng Ken, who rode double with the exhausted Severus.

Severus had already lost consciousness; blood continuously seeped from his abdominal wound, soaking the bandages completely red.

Deng Ken wasn’t faring much better.

Though he bore no visible wounds, two falls had left him feeling as if his ribs were broken; his health bar had dropped sharply—likely severe internal bruising.

Without Severus first ordering his horse to shield him on both sides, he might not have survived this long.

“Hold on, brother!”

Deng Ken rode one-handed, barely keeping the unconscious druid steady. He glanced at Tris’s pale face and said to Ania: “Head for the mountains!”

In this state, deep, dense forests were safer.

………………