Chapter 6
When the mercenaries arrived outside Albion, they saw countless magical beasts and were immediately filled with fear, as this was completely different from what they had imagined.
They usually only work together to hunt one magical beast, but now there are at least a dozen magical beasts surrounding Albion.
"Defend Albion! Defend our homeland!"
The mercenary guild leader, who was walking at the front, also witnessed this terrifying scene. The man, whose face was ashen, raised his greatsword and shouted.
"If we back down today, then the beautiful Albion will cease to exist!"
"Soldiers, raise your weapons! Charge!!"
Upon hearing this, the armored mercenaries raised their weapons. Some wielded greatswords like the guild leader's, while others used spears, large axes, and long scythes—not the small scythes used for harvesting wheat, but more like the long scythes favored by demons in church stories. Their handles were not those of spears, and the curved blades reflected a terrifying, cold light.
In short, it's a rare weapon, but as a mercenary, as long as you can complete the mission, nobody cares what weapon you use.
The mercenaries who had gone ahead to scout turned back before their charge, their faces showing some fear: "They are all level three or higher magical beasts, there are more than twenty of them, and I even saw a level five magical beast."
Fifth rank!
For a moment, the mercenaries, who had been inspired by the guild leader, began to have second thoughts. They still had a chance to hunt fourth-tier magical beasts, but fifth-tier magical beasts were simply a pipe dream for them.
As the crowd grew restless, the president remained silent with a sullen face.
But the commotion didn't last long. The mayor arrived with several church members, his authoritative voice echoing through the town: "Don't panic, everyone. Church reinforcements have arrived. All those along the way to Amber have perished. The wise Papacy has issued orders for all priests to go to Albion, arriving just in time for this invasion."
Hope rekindled in the mercenaries' eyes.
Standing at the back of the crowd, Allen carried his enormous scythe. People around him made way for him, afraid that he might accidentally injure them.
But soon, a figure stood beside him. Allen turned his head and smiled, "Ah, it's you, young man."
The blond boy was still young and thinner than the mercenaries, but his face was resolute. He replied, "My name is Arnold."
"Haha, Arnold, it's Alan."
Allen's gaze passed over Arnold and fell on the mercenaries. They stepped aside and practically surrounded the priests in their dark robes as they walked forward, licking their dry lips.
"I didn't expect the church people to arrive so quickly," he said.
Arnold, standing beside him, turned his head, his face showing some displeasure: "The Church's holy light shines on the continent, so naturally it will not sit idly by."
Allen looked at the blond boy beside him and saw that the displeasure on his face seemed genuine, so he immediately showed a surprised expression. However, before he could say anything, the mercenary in front of him walked forward, so he swallowed his words and followed his companion.
Arnold followed behind them without saying a word.
Priests are not uncommon in the Kingdom of Lortheran; in fact, there are quite a few of them, scattered throughout various villages and towns. They represent the church, promote its justice, and assist in handling various local affairs.
The remuneration usually comes from a portion of local taxes and subsidies from the Papacy.
The requirement to become a pastor is not difficult: one must be literate.
Allen, carrying a large scythe, was destined to be unable to squeeze to the front, but Arnold was different. He nimbly slipped past the mercenaries and quickly reached the area around the priests.
"They're charging!" shouted the mercenary at the forefront who was observing the monsters.
The priests calmly took a scroll from the cloth bag they were carrying.
Scrolls? Arnold's eyes flickered, and for some reason, he thought of the scrolls and books piled up in Veris's attic.
"By the great Pope of Orlando—"
"Please listen to the suffering of your people and bestow your miracles—"
"Hundreds of people along the way have already suffered this calamity—"
The priests' chanting startled Arnold. Their pronunciation was almost identical, and even their rhythm was so similar, as if it were coming from the same person. It was quite shocking to the ears of those around them.
Even if there are only four or five of them.
Most of the mercenaries at the forefront were the highest-ranking and most valiant warriors in the Mercenary Guild. They couldn't wait for the priests to chant and raised their weapons to face the charging monsters. The tremors of the giant beasts' limbs on the ground were so obvious and terrifying.
Seeing those people launch their charge, the other mercenaries, disregarding the priests, followed in their footsteps, weapons in hand, and rushed out of the town.
The melee quickly escalated, and Arnold drew his sword from his back and followed the group, but he was still carefully observing his surroundings, trying to discern the effects of the priests' chanting.
He got what he wanted very quickly.
As the priests finished chanting, they all threw the scroll into the sky. The scroll, which carried a considerable weight, flew quite a distance before it spontaneously combusted without leaving a trace of ash.
The flames engulfed the five scrolls, which then transformed into five fist-sized specks of light that flew towards the horde of monsters.
Arnold was already fighting a Tier 3 magical beast. He was an unfamiliar face, and the mercenaries were used to cooperating with their companions, so they didn't bother to pull Arnold into their team. For a moment, it was just him and the Tier 3 magical beast fighting one-on-one.
He still had the energy to keep an eye on the five points of light.
The light plummeted and fell into the horde of magical beasts. Those beasts that hadn't yet reached them were said to be fourth- or even fifth-tier, in short, quite formidable beings, and suddenly erupted in screams.
They were fortunate enough to hear the painful howls of a fifth-tier magical beast.
Five points of light instantly killed several of the highest-level magical beasts. Seeing this, the experienced guild leader shouted for the others to follow, and they treated the remaining magical beasts as if they were hunting in the Amberley Mountains.
The corpses of these monsters were naturally left for them to dispose of.
Despite losing five high-level magical beasts, the remaining beasts were not to be underestimated. However, the mercenaries' morale has soared, and they have quickly thrown themselves into a new round of battle.
Arnold was no exception; his face was beaming with excitement. Even as more and more monsters surrounded him, his sword movements remained swift, and he quickly pierced through the body of another monster, ending its life.
The battle outside the town was raging, but inside the town, it was quiet. Everyone was a little uneasy, and the residents had difficulty sleeping. Although they believed in the power of the mercenary guild, they couldn't help but imagine what they would do if the monsters really invaded Albion.
Why don't we run away now?
Veris walked down the deserted streets, heading straight to the edge of town. He remembered that the apothecary's house was over there, and the potion that could drive magical beasts mad... it would have to start from the nearest village in Amber and spread all the way to Albion, at least several dozen miles away.
As he walked, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the town gate, lost in thought.
The magical fluctuations just now didn't seem to be from a scroll drawn by a magician directly under the High Papacy. It must have been from a magician in Mercury County.
He's a rising star; when he sent Sylvain to Lortheran, Mercury was still an unknown magician.
The thought only flashed through Veris's mind before he turned back and continued walking toward the apothecary's house.
Compared to other towns, the boundaries within Albion are relatively clear. After crossing an intersection, a cobblestone road divides the front and back sections of the town. Veris skillfully turns left and right until he reaches the end of the cobblestone road.
His nose twitched, his expression changed slightly, and his steps suddenly quickened.
Behind the town are fields of wheat and meadows, as well as groves of trees. The pharmacist's house is next to the grove, and part of the house is hidden by the trees.
Under the bright moonlight, Veris saw shadowy figures gliding along the cobblestone path, with a few bats circling in the sky.
This is really troublesome.
He clicked his tongue, pondering why there were so many fourth-tier magical beasts on the ground. He had always found these snake-like creatures disgusting, but their appearance in such a large-scale manner was truly rare.
It seems that pharmacist really went all out.
Veris could only think of one possibility that could make these snakes abandon the allure of the Eye of God and head straight this way—that damned apothecary had stolen all their eggs.
He frowned as he cast illusion arrays on the nearby houses, then pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. On it were a few lines of beautiful handwriting, a very short story.
"Go."
As soon as he finished speaking, the words on the page suddenly came to life, then left the page and flew towards the serpentine monster on the ground that was eyeing Veris menacingly.
Veris didn't bother to identify what those things were; fourth-tier magical beasts weren't even worth mentioning in front of him.
The black text immediately revealed its true nature: the story Veris wrote was that Pope Orlando defeated a ninth-tier magical beast with burning arrows.
In the blink of an eye, the black characters transformed into streaks of burning fire, pinning the vital points of those fourth-tier magical beasts to the ground. The flames quickly devoured their twisted, sticky, yet impervious bodies.
The firelight danced in his heterochromatic pupils. Veris counted the time on his fingers. When he was about twenty, all that remained in the air was the acrid smell of burning flesh and blood from a fourth-tier magical beast. Veris disgustedly fanned his nose and walked toward the wooden house that was partially hidden by the trees.
Last night, the Mercenary Guild had just cornered the murderer here. The signs of damage around the cabin were obvious, and the door had been kindly closed, but Veris opened it with ease.
"Ah, just in case, let's activate the barrier first," he muttered to himself. As he finished speaking, a transparent barrier enveloped the entire wooden house.
With the barrier opened, there was no longer any need for him to hide anything. He raised his palm, and a cluster of bright white flames illuminated the entire interior of the wooden house.
When he saw the scene inside the room, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
The pharmacist, known as the murderer, sat behind his desk. The glaring light made him squint, but he quickly adjusted. With his monocle perched on his nose, he looked at the uninvited guest who had barged into the room. After their eyes met, a strange smile appeared on his face.
Veris held up the cluster of flames suspended in his palm. The night wind, which seemed to have rushed in from a window that wasn't closed properly, ruffled the hair around his face. His pale face didn't look human.
“You’re really bold, Percy,” he said, uttering the name of the apothecary he used in Albion.
Percy's face broke into a maniacal grin upon hearing this: "It really is you, Veris! You're here for the Eye of God too, aren't you! You even arrived before me—"
“Tch,” Veris scoffed, a laugh that could ignite Percy’s fury. He walked to the table, looking down at the deranged apothecary, a cold smile playing on his lips. “You did this for nothing?”
The contempt in his heterochromatic eyes instantly stung Percy's gaze.
A note from the author:
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