Chapter 94: Crisis Averted?
Chapter 94: Crisis Averted?
“Hey, kid! Do you know the highest level of hunting?” the Lich suddenly asked. He leisurely answered his own question. “It’s being hunted by the prey.”
Really, he could only ask and answer himself. Constantine had no interest in discussing such strange topics right now, especially when the questioner clearly took pleasure in others’ misfortune.
The boy curled up slightly, peering outward… The once pleasant forest lunch had become a nauseating scene. A disgusting, rusty odor filled the air. Several people pierced through with arrows thrashed in agony, wailing and screaming. Yet they were still counted among the lucky ones, because several times their number had already lost their lives…
Like crossbows, heavy crossbows were military weapons strictly controlled by the state, even more so than the former. With their three-hundred-meter accurate range and ease of use requiring little training, an ordinary farmer could use one heavy crossbow to kill a well-trained Royal Knight. Therefore, the state forbade commoners from owning heavy crossbows. Even nobles needed to register with the Legal Punishment Bureau to possess one bearing a special mark. Unmarked heavy crossbows were the favorites of smugglers and assassins.
The powerful bolts pinned the unfortunate targets firmly to the ground. The steel, triangular arrowheads easily pierced the attendants’ and guards’ chest plates and helmets—armor far more decorative than protective—and tore straight through human bone and muscle. They didn’t even get the chance to scream or groan before falling straight down.
Yet, this attack failed. The Sorcerer’s warning had played at least half the role! When that tearing twang of bowstrings rang out, dozens instantly took evasive action—either on their own or forced. Most threw themselves down. The Prince was tightly shielded by several guards. The barrage was too hasty; not a single bolt struck anyone truly worth targeting.
The other half of the credit still belonged to the Sorcerer, and his cleverness. Over a dozen guard Knights lifted Roman-style shields, perfectly fulfilling their protective role. More than ten heavy bolts slid off the smooth, curved surfaces. The few that struck dead center pierced the tough shields, but their kinetic energy was instantly absorbed by the triple-layered composite. The sharp, triangular arrowheads merely became decorative pieces stuck in the shields!
“￥%!” Strange curses spat from the woods. No guesswork was needed. The heavy crossbow’s flaw was as glaring as its power… The powerful limbs needed mechanical devices to re-cock, and these ambushers had neither the time nor manpower. To ensure intensity, they even wielded two each! Yet, their reaction was swift. After this useless volley, they instantly discarded their expensive weapons and drew blades.
…Then, completely unlike assassins, they charged out of the spell’s area!
“There’s a Spellcaster… they’re playing big this time!” Constantine curled tighter behind the broken stump, his gaze never leaving the attackers. This made him notice. Around the charging figures, plants bent back like animals. Even trees many feet thick reacted the same way.
“Formation! Spears up!”
The attack was sudden, but the Prince’s attendants were clearly elite, specially trained. They recovered from the chaos of the ambush almost instantly. As the shout echoed, over a dozen swiftly formed a wall around their master. Long spears seemed drawn out by magic, forming a bristling hedge! A dozen smaller arm shields filled the gaps around the Roman large shields, creating a crude but sturdy defense. This formation was ideal for chaotic fighting. Anyone approaching head-on would face a bloody baptism of spear points!
But their foes ignored it all!
The Prince’s guards were carefully selected. While not all were mighty, each stood easily over six feet. Yet the figures charging from the woods were far bulkier—a full head taller than even the Knights! They wore no armor, barely any clothing at all. Their exposed upper bodies showed iron-like muscles.
“Barbarians?” Constantine narrowed his eyes. Then he heard the Lich’s addition. “Warriors. Barbarian warriors!”
Scholars argued over the Continent’s Barbarians. Some believed they were a branch of Humans existing on civilization’s edge, unenlightened. Others saw them as sub-races like Goblins or Elves. Few in number, with underdeveloped intellect, yet extreme, brutal environments forged them into vicious fighters. Simply put, every Barbarian was a qualified warrior. Tribal lifestyles, constant warfare between clans, and nature’s cruelty made them ferocious!
Those esteemed as warriors among them were the cream of the crop. Fiery-tempered, battle-hungry madmen. Blood and battle cries ignited their inner savagery, turning them into terrifying engines of war!
Thump! Thump! Thump! Muffled crashes sounded one after another!
Only a dozen or so Barbarians hid in the woods. Yet with their guttural roars, their scattered charge carried the force of thousands! The few attendants lucky enough to dodge the bolts died instantly!
They tried raising their shields. It changed nothing. The enemy weapons were massive: heavy greatswords, long-hafted greataxes. Swung with force, they held terrifying power. The keen blades had immense shearing force under momentum, backed by strong impact. Standard chainmail, hardened leather—they shredded like paper! Only the lucky few survived direct blows from greatswords; the rest suffered crippling injuries!
The Barbarians roared, raising weapons mid-charge!
The next second, they felt sure they’d shatter their foes’ defense!
But in the heartbeat before their weapons struck the ironwood barrier, a sharp command cracked through the air! Then, the static shield wall burst into action!
Spears over nine feet long stabbed from the shield formation! Like bolts of lightning! They sliced air with ear-piercing shrieks! Barbarian smelting was nearly non-existent; full plate armor didn’t exist for them. Instantly, each charging foe sprouted several blood-jetting spearpoints!
“Well done!”
A noble youth, lucky to survive, cheered ecstatically… but it died into a strangled gasp. Impaled Barbarian warriors suddenly raised greataxes, tearing the air with agonized roars!
Then the six pierced Barbarians howled in unison! It held no despair… With beast-like screams, their eyes flooded blood-red! Muscles swelled; bodies seemed to grow a size instantly!
The Knights reacted lightning-fast. As one, they started to withdraw spears, readying another stab!
But the movement felt unnaturally sluggish. The Knights stared in shock. Their foes’ flesh seemed tough as rhinoceros hide! Not only halting the tips, minimizing damage—it trapped their weapons!
“Rage ability! They’re Berserkers?! These guys are truly unlucky…” The Lich’s voice echoed in the boy’s mind, dripping with glee. “A profession only lunatics choose… somehow found its way here. Seems few will walk out alive.”
“No way? Are these guys… Undead?” Constantine was stunned momentarily. He’d seen captured Barbarian warriors before, but nothing like this. Watching those huge men, pierced by multiple spears yet roaring at the sky, he doubted the Lich’s guess—though their faces were grotesquely twisted, thick drool spraying from gaping mouths reminiscent of rabies victims.
“Of course not! Undead are calm, obeying the highest will! Remember this, boy. That’s berserker rage… Gruumsh the Mad, One-Eyed King of Giants, grants this power to his fanatics. It turns a normal person into a pure killing machine. No pain, no fear, unleashing every ounce of strength… muscles at peak tension become tougher than leather!”
The Lich chuckled mockingly, explaining to the gaping Constantine. “And a Berserker cannot be killed till their rage ends! Cut in half or burned alive—even then, useless! These madmen make even adult True Dragons hesitate to clash. In humanoid warfare? They’re nearly invincible!”
As if proving the Lich right, the massive man showed no pause from his terrible wounds. Screaming wildly, he lunged forward as if feeling nothing! Wooden spear shafts bent under immense force, snapping in showers of splinters! Unprepared for this, spearmen tumbled backward, pole-butted off their feet! Several unfortunate ones were jabbed hard—wooden shafts plunged into chests and guts, killing them!
But the Barbarian didn’t fare well either… Spear fragments remained lodged between ribs. Some had ripped open his abdomen! White fragments of bone protruded horribly. Fist-sized wounds gaped, showing quivering organs beneath. Blood gushed instantly, soaking half his body. Anyone seeing this knew death was certain. But the fatal wounds didn’t hinder his movements! Not falling, he kept charging oblivious!
Pain-free—this indeed mirrored legendary Undead. But Constantine noticed these beings were still alive—movements agile and springy, unlike the stiff Undead, and pumping hearts forced gouts of blood out—impossible for Undead.
So they suppressed pain somehow. The boy realized their terror—unhampered by defense, desperate to kill every foe before dying themselves. Thus, Berserkers felt undefeatable. Their raw killing aura unnerved weaker wills. Fierce, bloodthirsty, unstoppable… and impossible to kill! Even seasoned warriors faltered against such a monster lunging at them!
The shield wall shattered the next moment!
The Knights drew their longswords with cold precision. Yet blades and spears failed to stop the blood-soaked attackers. Fighting desperately, they could only form a tight shield wall around the Prince—forced backward, step by retreating step!
It wasn’t their fault. A Knight’s essence required heavy armor, momentum mounted, spear lowered for impact, punching through shield-and-body, hoisting them airborne, then slamming them down. That was true war, Knights’ warfare. Not dueling with useless swords against pain-immune maniacs adept at close quarters!
The retreat was brief.
Clustered around the Prince, Knights shouted defiantly. Retreat was impossible—the riverbank ended behind them. Soft mud crept onto their boots. To enter that meant certain death!
Death awaited ahead, too.
Pure strength drove their steel. Barbarian skill was rudimentary, yet massive greatswords swung like feather-light sticks! An angled slash easily parted a Knight’s steel armor, leaving him heavily wounded and useless. A horizontal slash drove two Knights back!
The Knights cried out unwillingly. Death didn’t frighten them, but surrendering their honor did—they were the Crown Prince’s life shield! Had their spirit moved the God of War?
As Knights fell, a sighing sound whispered past, and a figure darted from behind the enemy…
Constantine blinked. Someone unnoticed before, the unimpressive youth.
His attire was slightly ornate but unremarkable, typical of a common low noble. Yet his martial skill was anything but common. Even Constantine’s Divine Power-aided eyes could barely track his movements from afar. To most, he was a speeding blur.
A few leaps made the blur circle the raging behemoths. His weapon matched the man—an ordinary rapier carried by nobles everywhere. Yet ordinary became truly terrifying in his grip.
Sharp steel seemed to conjure flashes of green lightning! Each fleeting light drew a howl and spurt of blood!
Constantine used to think small swords like the foil were useless, only for duels or fancy tricks. This single man destroyed that idea. That long sliver of metal, sharp only at the tip, became a true instrument of death in his hands. Hiss…Tchak! Dull shimmers traced invisible lines. Barbarian fighters sprouted dozens of weeping pinpricks.
His sword wasn’t just fast and accurate. He knew human arteries intimately—thighs, upper arms, neck sides—all major veins targets. Berserkers lacked intelligence normally; enraged, it vanished. They didn’t dodge. Blood surged out, pooling underfoot within seconds. Half a minute was enough. They fell one after another. No pain felt? Lack blood to power muscles? Any creature became mere pounds of dead meat!
Then, a low murmur pierced the battle clamor. The air warmed. Something… invisible gathered!
A raging pillar of flame erupted, then spread sideways, forming a thick blazing wall! Its roar and explosive radiance spooked horses leagues away. Spinning, screaming fire immediately engulfed several resisting Barbarians! Before any cry came, bodies vanished to ash.
“A Mage!” Hiding behind Knights, nobles pallid as ghosts cheered wildly.
Mages—always powerful beings mortals couldn’t grasp. With their aid, any enemy felt conquerable! Those flames like an invisible shield finally let shoulders—even Knights’–sag.
But just as the group sighed relief, Constantine at the very back of the formation frowned!
He felt it—danger wasn’t gone!