Chapter 15: Suppressing the Bandits (Part 2)
Chapter 15: Suppressing the Bandits (Part 2)
Hilika's command to attack was loud enough to be heard by the two remaining men who had not yet joined the fray. One was a slightly plump middle-aged man, and the other was the youngest among the eight, who had earlier demanded gold from Hilika. The middle-aged man let out a faint sigh, took out a peculiar wolf-head-shaped helmet, and placed it on his head. The younger man drew his sword.
The helmet was incredibly lifelike, resembling the severed head of an actual wolf, its eyes glowing with an eerie green light. As the man donned the helmet and began muttering incantations under his breath, his body started trembling, and then transforming. He grew taller and more muscular, his bones cracking audibly as they reshaped. His exposed skin sprouted fur, and in an instant, he had transformed from a plump, ordinary man into a towering werewolf, nearly as large as Hilika.
"A druid?" Everyone except Hilika exclaimed in shock. Druids were thought to have vanished from the continent over a century ago. These humans, as attuned to nature as elves and devoted to the gods of nature, possessed their own unique system of magic. One of their most wondrous abilities was shapeshifting into various animals. Unlike reclusive elves, druids were relentless in recruiting others to their cause, opposing any form of destruction to forests or nature, whether farming, mining, or deforestation. Their extreme methods and beliefs made them widely unpopular with rulers and church authorities alike. Over years of persecution and eradication, druids were thought to have disappeared entirely. Yet, here one was, standing among the bandits.
The female knight noticed the man's transformation. After a brief moment of surprise, she suddenly knelt on one knee and pressed her sword to her forehead.
Everyone, including Hilika, was stunned. In the midst of this tense, high-stakes standoff, the central figure of attention had knelt in what appeared to be prayer. A few overly nervous bandits even crouched down with their hands over their heads, fearing she was preparing some devastating divine attack.
"Thank you, Lord," the knight spoke reverently, her expression devout. "Not only have You allowed me to rid this place of these wicked souls, but You have also revealed a heretic who has slipped through the net. Let me cleanse my blade and soul with the blood of these devil worshippers and add to Your radiant glory."
Her calm demeanor and overt disregard for her foes exuded utter contempt, as though these notorious bandits were less threatening than mice. The injured bandits who had retreated earlier wore even darker expressions, their humiliation deepened.
The druid, now fully transformed, let out a low growl, his fangs bared and his glowing green eyes flashing. He growled deeply, his voice indistinguishable from that of a real werewolf.
The man standing beside Hilika suddenly sighed and turned to him, nodding slightly. "This woman may be foolish, but she's not easy to deal with. Let's not hold back anymore—let's all attack together."
Hilika nodded in agreement, and the two advanced toward the female knight.
In Hilika's hands was the steel lance the knight had thrown earlier. A weapon so heavy that ordinary knights required two hands to wield it on horseback now seemed like a toy in his single hand. With a casual flick and sweep, he filled the air with swirling spear shadows, displaying greater proficiency than a seasoned knight. Each step he took caused the underground chamber to tremble slightly, with the bricks beneath his feet cracking and sinking under the pressure of his immense weight and concentrated power. He moved forward, one step at a time, like a walking mountain.
In contrast, the other man moved soundlessly until he unsheathed the blade on his back.
The moment the blade left its scabbard, an eerie humming filled the air. Dark red shadows rippled along the blade's surface like living things, exuding a faint, blood-soaked aura. This aura didn't emit a smell but seemed to seep into the very bones and souls of those present, sending chills through every bandit watching.
One man moved with overpowering force; the other exuded a sinister, ghostly presence. Together, their combined aura was enough to strike fear into anyone. Yet the female knight's face remained composed, her eyes filled with disdain as she watched them approach. When her gaze fell upon the crimson-shadowed blade, her expression shifted briefly to alarm, but this was quickly replaced by burning fury.
"A servant of darkness!" she shouted angrily. "How dare you wield such vile, wicked weaponry in the presence of God's emissary! You will pay for this blasphemy with agonized repentance upon the pyre!"
"Foolish woman," the man with the blade sighed again, shaking his head slightly. Though his face remained expressionless, his tone and eyes were brimming with disdain. "Why waste so many words? Are you here to kill or to preach?"
The female knight's phoenix eyes suddenly widened in fury as she roared, stepping forward like a flash of white lightning, swinging her sword in a powerful slash. Clang! The thunderous clash of blade against sword echoed through the underground chamber, forcing all the bandits to cover their ears. For the first time, someone had fully blocked one of the knight's strikes.
The two figures separated abruptly. Although the man had managed to block the knight's wrathful attack, he staggered backward two steps under its force.
The knight, however, stumbled even more dramatically. She reeled backward, nearly losing her balance, before finally managing to stand upright again. Her face was a mix of anger and shock, and she coughed lightly, a trickle of blood emerging from the corner of her mouth. Her breastplate bore a noticeable dent.
Hilika's eyes widened to the size of saucers, his expression showing uncharacteristic horror. He stared at the twisted steel lance in his hands, barely recognizable as a weapon anymore.
With his immense strength, even an ordinary wooden staff in his hands could pierce through a rhinoceros. This lance strike, prepared meticulously since the moment the man spoke, had been unleashed with his full power. Yet the result was utterly unexpected.
"She's wearing Glory Armor. Don't let her catch her breath!" shouted the man who had just been pushed back. He raised his blade and charged at the knight again. The werewolf druid let out a howl and followed suit.
Glory Armor. Even within the Church, renowned for its magical artifacts and enchanted items, this armor was considered a treasure. Over the past two or three centuries, only a handful had ever been forged. Beyond the rarity of its materials and the masterful craftsmanship of human and dwarven smiths, the true marvel lay in its magical enchantment. To forge such an armor, the entire life force and magical power of a top-tier light mage were required—typically a Cardinal nearing the end of their life. These armors were seen as the Church's radiant glory and a symbol of unwavering faith.
As the man shouted, the knight placed her hand over the dent in her armor. A glow of restorative magic emanated from her hand, and her pale complexion quickly regained color. Even the dent in her breastplate began to mend. Witnessing this, the expressions of everyone present changed dramatically—some faces turned green, others red, but most went pale with dread.
Hilika cursed loudly, throwing aside the now useless lance and snatching a greatsword from the thin man nearby. Charging forward with a thunderous roar, he wielded the massive sword with astonishing ease, its arcs as imposing as a mountain. Incredibly, he seemed to handle the weapon even better than its original owner. Yet after only a couple of swings, he roared in frustration and desperation, his voice shaking the chamber above so hard that dirt began to fall from the ceiling.
"Does anyone have a way to dispel her magic? Esis! Did you hear me?" he bellowed.
"I heard you! But I really can't do it!" wailed Esis, nearly in tears. He had been tirelessly casting failed dispel and slow spells in the back, exhausting his magic reserves. Now, he could do nothing but fret helplessly.
The werewolf druid, the black-clad woman, and the man wielding a punch-dagger all joined the fight. Together, their weapons formed a whirlwind of attacks, tightly encircling the knight. The cacophony of blows striking her armor and the clash of weapons filled the air. Yet, the knight held her own with little difficulty. She seemed wary only of the crimson-shadowed blade, taking care to avoid letting it strike her directly. The other weapons barely fazed her. Even Hilika's greatsword often slid harmlessly off her armor when she used the force of her movements to deflect it.
Her long sword, meanwhile, was as quick as lightning. While guarding her face and vital areas, she delivered rapid, precise thrusts that kept her opponents scrambling to defend themselves.
The knight's strength did not rely solely on her Glory Armor. As Hilika's furious outburst suggested, her speed, strength, agility, and reflexes, enhanced by more than a dozen holy enchantments, far exceeded those of her opponents. Combined with her unmatched swordsmanship, she was virtually untouchable. Most of her strikes were directed at the man wielding the crimson blade, forcing the others to focus on supporting him just to keep up.
Clang! The prolonged clash of her sword against the crimson blade rang out, the two weapons exchanging dozens of rapid strikes in an instant. The man stumbled back again, nearly dropping his weapon.
A clear and piercing battle cry echoed through the chamber as the knight spun in place, her sword creating a radiant silver arc around her. The force of the maneuver pushed Hilika and the other three attackers back. The druid, reacting a moment too late, had three of his fingers sliced off as they were caught in the swirling blade.
The knight paid no heed to the four retreating attackers. The white glow around her body intensified to an unprecedented brilliance. With a roar, she became one with her sword, merging into a streak of radiant light as she lunged toward the staggering man with the crimson blade.