Our Family Has Fallen

Geralt didn’t blindly rush to help, but instead headed straight for the Heretic Priest after Barin knocked away the ghoul.

However, the delay had given the priest plenty of time, and the long-concealed Soul-Entangling Curse didn’t spread but instead landed on one person.

It wasn’t Geralt, but Alhazred.

The curse, infused with the heavy aura of death from the battlefield, descended, and even though Alhazred had activated several items he carried, it was still difficult to resist, instantly dragging him into…

┗|｀O′|┛Yowl~~

Meanwhile, the injury drove the monster into a frenzy. The ghoul got up from the ground, spreading its arms and roaring at Barin.

Wraith’s Roar!

But the more troubling issue was that with the roar, the deathly breath spewed from the ghoul’s mouth instantly invaded Barin’s body.

The thick armor failed to block this eerie power; even the dark night turned a shade darker, and his skin prickled, as if something cold and sinister had slid over it.

In this weather, Barin inexplicably felt cold—not a physical reaction, but a shiver from the soul.

Had it been Geralt, experienced with monsters, he wouldn’t have been caught so easily, but saying this now was pointless.

The ghoul wouldn’t wait for you to recover; by now, it had already raised its claw toward Barin.

The sharp claws, possessing extraordinary sharpness, pierced through the heavy breastplate with barely any resistance, directly into the heart!

Death awaited in that moment of slight relaxation...

Geralt, finally under cover from others, charged forward, but the priest seemed to have no intention of defending, as if having completed his task.

Without much thought, he swung his sword to behead, yet when he turned back, his face lost its previous calm.

Only to see Alhazred with a terror-stricken expression, as if fighting against something, with the candlestick in his hand long extinguished.

Tadiff, covered in blood, had his scale armor damaged and deformed, gasping for breath; his sagging arms seemed unable to hold the axe.

Barrett, Xize, and others had long exhausted their ammunition and arrows, forced to pick up fallen comrades’ weapons to fend off those heretics, aiming to protect severely injured teammates on the ground, their fate unknown.

Turning his gaze, he saw Barin’s heart directly pierced, the axe falling from his hands...

Looking at others, those fallen had long fallen, and few could still stand.

The Honor Guard, Geralt, and about thirty others had been battling endlessly since arriving at the third target site, experiencing multiple takeovers and retreats, nearly fighting from day until night, and it’s already a miracle to still be standing.

Even though killing the priest brought no joy.

Because it was an ambush; the heretics appeared from a direction that caught them off guard.

This batch of heretics didn’t come from the passage nor the southern encirclement, but from the north!

This indicates that the Ascension Sect has reacted, even dispatching reinforcements.

Even if they killed this batch, stronger heretics would follow, ones better adept at using death and darkness, along with monsters like ghouls emerging in the dim wilderness.

What about Hamlet’s reinforcements?

For a moment, the situation flashed through Geralt’s mind, compelling him to ask.

Why didn’t the Lord simply bomb the place, instead leaving them isolated, facing heretics from all sides and underground?

Can we truly win?

This is why Lance welcomed formed heroes to Hamlet, even offering good prices.

Yet they still need to cultivate their own team in Hamlet.

Because for them, Hamlet was but a choice; even if they couldn’t make it here, they could still go elsewhere.

But the talent nurtured by Hamlet itself would naturally have a sense of recognition, never easily giving up.

Because Hamlet is their home.

Geralt’s wavering didn’t affect others; the world still runs.

The ghoul’s claws pierced through Barin’s heart, seemingly drawing out his last breath, rendering the once easily wielded Beheader heavy, dropping it from his hands.

Teetering on the verge of death, facing an endless Abyss!

Even for extraordinarily self-healing heretics, a damaged heart equals major harm, and for normal humans, survival is impossible.

Yet an unexpected turn occurred; Barin wasn’t an ordinary person; he was an heir to the Extraordinary Bloodline, previously dormant, only displaying a robust physique.

Now, the fierce battle squeezing his last bit of strength, combined with the evil aura grasping his soul and the grave wound of a pierced heart, instead triggered his latent bloodline power.

What’s more important is the resolve that still resists.

I haven’t completed My Lord’s task yet; I cannot die...

As the bloodline power activated, his soul seemed to see a giant roaring with the mountains, entangled shadows dispersing instantly.

Rage brings warmth, even boiling blood rushes up, dispelling fatigue and escaping complete exhaustion, instead urging to unleash unending power.

Denial of Death!

Will surpasses matter; this is the allure of Supernatural Power.

He felt that with this unextinguishable fury, not even death could take him.

Suddenly, he grabbed the ghoul’s wrist with one hand, pulling it out, his previously bowed head suddenly lifting.

This movement stunned the ghoul for two seconds, revealing a moment of innocence in its terrifying features.

But Barin wouldn’t be courteous to it; with a roar, the helmet couldn’t suppress the rage.

”Raaaaa—!”

The next second, the ghoul’s head suffered a heavy punch, with the power unleashed in Barin’s fury fully infused, sending it into a stupor.

With its hand seized, evading was impossible; Barin’s arm struck like a pile driver, throwing several punches at a terrifying speed, hitting the face.

The gauntleted fists collided with the fangs, producing bizarre sounds. The once frightening visage turned ”peaceful,” though regretfully, its full mouth of teeth interrupted, unable to enjoy four dishes anymore.

The ghoul’s entire face became unrecognizable, black unknown liquid splattering like ink in the dim environment, appearing hazier.

But Barin’s fury was far from soothing; turning his fist into a hand, he grabbed the ghoul’s other arm—not to dance, but to deliver a powerful kick.

The violent force landed on the ghoul’s emaciated, yet devoured countless humans’ abdomen, only to hear a ”crack” sound; its spine couldn’t withstand the force and snapped, though the emaciated flesh still connected to the body, lifting its lower half off the ground.

Because the upper half remained in Barin’s hand.

The still not dead ghoul emitted a bizarre, yet heartrending wail.

But the more painful cry further triggered Barin’s desire to kill. He exerted force, surprisingly tearing off one of the ghoul’s arms.

Understand that a blade couldn’t pierce its defensive physique; to tear off an arm represents terrifying strength!

He reversed the half-crippled ghoul, dropping it onto the ground, then viciously stomping down.

”Boom!”

The skull that withstood multiple punches shattered, black foul water splashing, signifying complete death.

Barin’s actions transpired within mere seconds, undoubtedly uplifting everyone’s spirits.

But it’s not over yet; those heretics noticed Barin and immediately rushed forward.

Barin could feel the rage starting to fade, and the power within begin to wane, but he wasn’t afraid of death; he needed to kill more heretics for his comrades.

Dedicating life to the Lord is his honor!

War Roar!

Barin uttered an enraged howl, the sound seemingly endowed with magical power, effortlessly dispelling the oppressive deathly aura on the battlefield, instead awakening the war fervor in their minds, spontaneously granting strength to their extreme bodies.

Furthermore, firming everyone’s resolve.

Now, fight to the death! How could retreat be uttered?

”For Hamlet!”