CHAPTER 216: CHAPTER 111: THE RESURRECTION OF LOST SOULS! THE HEADLESS KING—SANGIS

Anya returned to the governor’s mansion.

As usual, she meditated a bit before resting, but for some reason, the magic power that had been unchanged in her body for a long time suddenly stirrred.

"What happened?" Anya raised her head in surprise.

Why was her magic power so active tonight, as if something had awakened it from within?

Anya found nothing.

She pondered hard but had no answers. When she looked up at the candle stand before her, Anya couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it. The candle flame was warm, and her fingertips got a little grease, then instinctively, she looked at the flame.

Suddenly, in an unconscious motion, a flicker of flame ignited from her fingertip.

This scene seemed to have startled her.

Soon, the flame on Anya’s fingertip extinguished, but she quickly realized, as she concentrated, a new flicker of flame emerged again.

"Can I use spells?"

Anya’s expression was somewhat incredulous. She turned to look at a belt, and in the next instant, the belt seemed to animate like a living snake, automatically flying into her palm, twisting around her arm in circles, and finally stopping at her command. The animated rope returned to normal.

"Something must have happened in Bath!"

Suppressing her excitement, Anya murmured, "Is it because of the revival of faith in the Divine Spirit?"

At the same time.

In the Hot Spring Temple in Bath, the Crow Queen, Triss, assisted by her maid, sat down for a rest. She specifically asked the maid to layer soft cushions, just about to breathe a sigh of relief, she soon sensed something unusual.

Woo woo woo!

A gust of wind whipped up in the room of the Crow Queen, Triss, even though all the doors and windows were closed.

"Wind of Magic?"

"Something seems different?"

The Crow Queen, Triss, disregarded her mild physical discomfort, standing up excitedly, and began chanting with her lips. Suddenly, a beam of moonlight shone through the window onto her palm, and this moonlight transformed into the shape of a bow and arrow.

As the Crow Queen drew the Moon Bow, a radiant light flashed, and a marble pillar was shot with a hole, its power comparable to when Duncan used the Nord Bow to shoot a Wind Arrow.

"My powers? Have they returned a bit?" the Crow Queen murmured.

A gust of wind kicked up.

The Crow Queen, Triss, suddenly disappeared in place, her figure transforming into a swarm of crow-like black mist in the hall, then reappeared ten meters away as if she had teleported.

Her power had indeed returned to some extent, but not to her peak strength.

In strict terms, the strength that the Crow Queen, Triss, regained was roughly equivalent to Heretic Julian’s period, nearly a hundred years ago.

Now, she could use many low-level witchcraft spells normally, but powerful magic was still greatly restricted.

At the temple plaza.

Duncan was venting excess energy, thinking that the Crow Queen, Triss, was a little chick who, though no good at magic, was fun to play with. Anya could at least extinguish fires confidently, while the Crow Queen could only stir them up, leaving Duncan feeling conflicted and seeking something to work out.

Huh?

Why does it feel a bit light?

Duncan lifted a stone pillar weighing several hundred pounds, planning to do a hundred squats, when he soon sensed something was off.

It felt a bit light.

Duncan curiously looked at his own hand, let go with one hand, and exerted his full strength. His muscles bulged, and with just one hand, he lifted the pillar weighing hundreds of pounds.

Holy crap!

Had he broken through his strength limit?

Duncan tried once more and discovered that under full exertion, he could easily lift thousands of pounds without breaking a sweat. If he used all his potential, without entering a Great Frenzy, he could probably lift around a ton.

Not only did his strength improve, but Duncan’s overall physique also surged tremendously, enabling him to lift such a heavy item.

He could easily leap onto the second floor from flat ground, crush warhorses effortlessly while sprinting, and his body strength and reflex speed reached a whole new level of power that he found hard to comprehend.

"Someone come."

Duncan thought of something, summoned his nearby guards, and said solemnly, "Bring me a battle bow."

The general’s personal guard nearby looked puzzled, but soon brought him a battle bow.

Duncan casually threw it to one of them. The man’s archery was passable. Duncan instructed, "Shoot an arrow at me."

The general’s guard’s expression showed a hint of fear, but this was the governor’s order, so he nervously fitted an arrow and aimed at Duncan, who was tens of meters away.

It was already late.

But fortunately, there was firelight nearby. Not daring to fully draw the bow, the strongbow still launched the arrow with a whistling sound.

Whistling!

The sharp arrow flew through the air.

Duncan’s expression was somewhat displeased, and without drawing the Oathkeeper, he suddenly reached out and caught the flying arrow.

"Draw it fully." he said calmly.

The nearby generals’ personal guard were shocked; the one who was drawing the bow did so reluctantly, afraid to aim directly at critical points, missing slightly instead.

Whistling!

The second sharp arrow came.

Without drawing the Oathkeeper, Duncan, in the darkness, snatched it, palm swiftly grasping the arrow as if it were lightning-fast.

The plaza was in an uproar.

"Again."

"You all shoot," Duncan was eager to test himself further.

The bowstrings trembled.

Five sharp arrows whistled through the air. Duncan’s Oathkeeper finally left its sheath. Clang, a glimmer of cold light flashed, all five arrows were deflected and cut down.

Was this even human?

Duncan, without breaking a sweat, did several dozen deep squats with a half-ton stone pillar. Only when he saw the distant figure of the Crow Queen, Triss, did he casually toss it aside and walk in her direction. Judging from the hurried look of the Crow Queen, Triss, she must have sensed some changes in the world.

Sharon Battlefield.

In the Gaul region, torrential rains persisted recently. Beneath the pouring rain, a tall figure was hiding under a large tree to avoid the rain, completely drenched and looking quite bedraggled.

Demon Hunter George.

Ever since he ceased to participate in the internal conflicts of the Church, he traveled all over Europe, slaying various supernatural creatures.

Life is alright, just a bit financially tight.

The Roman Church is very wealthy, extremely wealthy, but George didn’t want to use their money. He relied on slaying monsters and some additional income to get by, while also considering the funding needed to establish the Demon Hunter Brotherhood. Thus, his days were often quite tight.

When he first met Duncan, he saved on inn expenses by directly making do for the night in a stable.

Hmm?

What is that smell?

While meditating with his eyes closed under the torrential rain, Demon Hunter George suddenly opened his eyes. His human eyes instantly turned into vertical dragon pupils, piercing the darkness to see some commotion in the distance.

Too many people died in the Battle of Sharon.

Recently, the Gaul region has been unsettled, with Ghouls and other monsters appearing from time to time, and even the wrongful dead specters and spirits.

During the day, it’s basically fine.

But at night, getting close to the Sharon Battlefield might bring encounters with unclean things.

No one in this era runs into the wilderness in the middle of the night.

A wet and rotting stench wafted through.

Demon Hunter George emerged swiftly, quickly approaching a river. Under the torrential rain, a streak of blood appeared in the middle of the river, and when he looked up, he saw human heads emerging from the waves on the water’s surface.

"Water Ghosts?!"

"How come there are several Water Ghosts appearing at once?"

The Demon Hunter slowly unsheathed the longsword behind him, jumping directly into the river. His formidable physique was unafraid of the swift current, fighting in these Water Ghosts’ natural environment. In just ten minutes, he decapitated them and climbed onto a patch of marshy ground.

"I seem to have gotten stronger?"

Demon Hunter George looked at his hands, a puzzled expression on his face.

In the past, it took considerable effort to deal with Water Ghosts, but today he slaughtered them as easily as a lamb.

Ooooooh!

A faint mournful wail arose.

In the torrential rain, a mist rose faintly, forming into a fog. The sound of clattering armor and hooves erupted. Suddenly, several Huns’ cavalry figures emerged from the gray fog.

But they were not living beings; rather, they appeared as half-ghostly, half-real phantoms.

"What on earth is happening?"

"Why are the spirits repeatedly resurrecting on the Sharon Battlefield?"

Demon Hunter George’s expression gradually turned serious. Unlike the Water Ghosts, these fallen Hun elites had greater strength. He deflected the arrows with his sword, and as the arrows fell to the ground, they turned into black smoke and vanished.

He rapidly advanced, accompanied by a flash of cold light.

Rumble!

A bolt of lightning crossed the sky, and several Hun riders fell one after another. Amidst the cracking sparks, the rain intensified, drenching the Demon Hunter. Behind him, only beheaded evil spirits remained, dispersing into mist.

The surroundings seemed to alter as if trapped in a maze, with rain and mist overlapping, blurring directions.

Clop, clop, clop.

A heavy sound of hoofbeats resonated.

In the core area of the Sharon Battlefield, where tens of thousands had died, a headless figure on a black skeletal warhorse, clad in heavy armor and covered in arrows, appeared.

— Sangis (Alan, the Exiled Monarch) (Lost Celestial Destiny)!

Demon Hunter George’s expression turned deeply serious. He slowly grasped his longsword with both hands, assuming a defensive stance, and focused on the abrupt figure appearing in the rain.

So strong!

This was no ordinary spirit.

The warhorse stampeded forth.

The headless Sangis alone seemed like an army charging, with the shadows of Alan’s elite horsemen appearing behind him.

Clang!

Sparks flew.

A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky.

A wound appeared on Demon Hunter George’s left shoulder, blood mingling with rain as it flowed. The warhorse beneath the headless King mourned as Sangis fell, rose instantly, and drew the longsword at his waist.

Too strong!

Could this truly be a spirit of this era?

Demon Hunter George had slain countless supernatural creatures, but this was the first time encountering such a powerful spirit, perhaps even stronger than the monster was in life.

No, it won’t work.

The weather is against me!

The heavy rain severely impaired his vision, while the enemy seemed unaffected.

After some contemplation, Demon Hunter George suddenly turned and fled, for he saw Sangis mount an undead horse emerging from the black mist again.

Plunge.

This Demon Hunter, known for decades, fled for the first time when facing a monster, diving headlong into the river’s turbulent current.

The warhorse neighed.

Amidst a reluctant roar, Sangis’ headless figure slowly vanished.

.........