Flash flood! Britain Island

A night of fierce winds and torrential rain.

At first, a breeze swept through the valley, echoing among the rolling peaks where the mountain folk lived in seclusion. The night wind grew stronger, sounding like choked sobs and swallowing breaths. Clouds slipped away like gauze, revealing a full moon as pale and round as a platter, captivating the soul. Lightning streaked across the night sky. Beneath the vast darkness, the valley streams flowed swiftly through lush greenery.

Perhaps the slaughter in the mortal world had grown too heavy these past years, and even heaven wished to nourish all living things with a storm.

Thunder rumbled as howling winds echoed through the valley, growing ever fiercer until they sounded like hoarse cries of grief. The wind cut like blades, like fingertips scraping across wooden boards. A violent storm swept through the secluded valley, pouring rain onto the long-parched earth and drawing a deep, lingering sigh from it. The vitality of growing things mingled with heaven and earth. Rainwater gathered among the peaks and valleys, first in trickling streams, then, after several bursts of wind and rain, in rivers. Finally, the wind became a piercing shriek that tore through the night. Countless rivulets converged into a flash flood that swept down as the mountains trembled.

A torrent burst from a cleft in the mountain, plunging hundreds of feet like a waterfall.

How magnificent nature was!

The wind wailed with shrill, mournful cries. The surging flood swept through the mountain folk's secluded valley like the Milky Way cascading from the heavens. In the end, the parched earth absorbed much of the water. By the time the flood reached the settlement, it merely flattened a stretch of fencing and soaked a few sheepskin tents.

Bathed in moonlight by the window, the Raven Queen, Triss, had admired the storm for half the night. A rosy flush suffused her breathtakingly beautiful face, her expression languid and satisfied after witnessing nature's splendor.

She rose and pushed open the door. When she glanced back, the storm outside the window had gradually subsided, though it still threatened to return in full force.

The rest of the night passed without incident.

In the faint light of dawn, Duncan rolled out of bed and casually draped the soft sheepskin over the woman lying beside him like a puddle of mud.

He opened the window to air out the previous night's smell. The tallow candle had burned for half the night, leaving the room thick with an odor like the rank smell of sheep. A murmured whimper came from the bed lined with fine sheepskins. Apparently displeased by the direct sunlight, the woman rolled over, wrapped herself up, and curled into the corner like a maggot.

Duncan paid it no mind. He stretched, feeling refreshed, all the fatigue of the past several days swept away. Even the gloom left by killing his way across half of Europe had vanished.

Crack, crack, crack.

His joints popped.

In the morning light, the muscles of his back stood out as sharply as carved lines. His broad back narrowed to a lean waist. As he raised his arms as though to wrench a mountain from the earth, countless muscular contours converged like eyes, and bulging veins coiled like dragons. Illuminated by the sun, he was more striking than a statue from Ancient Greece.

Footsteps stopped at the doorway. The Raven Queen, Triss, stared, swallowing slightly, her slender swanlike throat moving. Her cheeks flushed, but her voice remained perfectly calm. "Since you're up..."

"Let's begin your morning lessons."

"Today, I'll teach you to read and write Latin, along with the teachings of the Socratic School."

Inside the room.

The beauty curled in the corner like a maggot had been peeking out. She instantly shuddered and withdrew again like an ostrich, her delicate body trembling despite herself.

Duncan nodded and put on his coat. As he walked out, he told the slave woman behind the Raven Queen, Triss, "Heat some water."

"Then bring it inside."

He gestured for the Raven Queen, Triss, to wait, then went to a mountain stream and washed himself bare-chested. Last night's flood had caused little damage. A few mountain women were repairing the fencing and drying sheepskins. Catching sight of the masculine vigor radiating from him, they stopped to watch from a distance. His physique, like an Ancient Greek statue, made the village women gasp and cover their mouths.

The blood of the Holy Grail had begun to take effect.

Or perhaps it was all the killing along the way. Duncan's physical capabilities had risen sharply. He could now ride at a gallop with one hand, treating over a hundred pounds of weight as nothing, without even needing both hands to manage the reins.

With his current physique, an ordinary spirited horse probably could not support the full range of his combat skills. Only a renowned steed like Red Hare could let him unleash his full potential. Many of his killing moves demanded more than ordinary strength could provide. Once he activated Adrenaline Burst, an ordinary warhorse might not even outrun him on foot.

The Raven Queen, Triss, was already waiting in the hall.

She did not want Duncan to become a reckless warrior like the Spartans, so she intended to teach him literacy, philosophy, and art to cultivate his character and counterbalance the slaughter of blood and fire.

His human form had been born a farmer and apprenticed to a blacksmith. He could read a few words, but had learned very little.

Although Duncan had the experiences of his previous life, he did not want to disappoint the Raven Queen's kind intentions, so he studied diligently. Most of the abilities he had acquired were combat skills. Learning a little medieval philosophy now and then could help cultivate his character, too.

At noon.

With the slave woman attending her, Anya finally made her way downstairs, looking bashful. Her expression was weary and languid, but her complexion was excellent. Radiant and captivating, she could almost rival the Raven Queen, Triss, in beauty. Yet her gaze kept wandering, and her heart was filled with timid unease. When the Raven Queen's calm gaze swept over her, her legs instinctively began to tremble.

Last night's storm had seen the Raven Queen, Triss, shatter Anya's dreams of being the leading lady with three lashes. But Anya would not give up easily!

"Time to eat."

Expressionless, the Raven Queen, Triss, indicated that Duncan's lesson in Ancient Greek philosophy would end there for the day.

Anya felt as though she had been granted a pardon. She even volunteered to help the slave woman bring out the food.

Severus was in poor spirits that day. His gaze occasionally drifted toward Duncan, and they exchanged awkward smiles. As though his circulation had become sluggish, the old wound in his abdomen ached faintly. He could only sit to one side and wait for the meal.

I'm wounded. Focus on eating. Take eating seriously. Eat properly.

Nothing much happened in the mountain settlement. Kevito could not constantly lead men out to raid estates, so in the afternoon, some people trained in an open area. Their fighting style somewhat resembled that of gladiators from Ancient Rome, rather than the methods of a regular legion.

This had to do with the Exiles' heritage. Their early training had come from gladiators, and since they usually fought small, mobile skirmishes, their training methods leaned toward a ranger's style.

On a real battlefield, they would have been less effective than straightforward sword strokes. In a Roman formation, shields provided defense and the gladius delivered attacks. Such a formation could beat them until they cried for their mothers.

During Spartacus's uprising, all those excellent gladiators could slaughter Roman soldiers with ease in individual combat. But once battle formations were deployed, they were still routed.

The clearest example was the Assassins, the inspiration for Assassin's Creed. Against Mongolian cavalry, they were crushed like helpless novices, unable to bring their individual martial prowess to bear.

Military combat techniques were actually plain and practical.

Intrigued, Duncan glanced at the Raven Queen, Triss, and asked, "Would you like me to teach you some fighting techniques?"

The Raven Queen, Triss, readily agreed.

Although Duncan was at his strongest with God's Eye View supporting him, the abilities he had seized had become bodily instincts even in his normal state. Every movement would otherwise have required a decade or more of hard training. What he taught the Raven Queen, Triss, was merely basic combat technique, breaking down the simplest chops, slashes, thrusts, and rising cuts.

The Raven Queen, Triss, learned extremely quickly. It seemed she already had some training.

Before long.

Quite a few mountain folk gathered around. They dared not look too closely at the Raven Queen, Triss, and mostly watched Duncan instead. Some took up wooden swords and practiced the basic moves along with them.

Even now, Duncan knew no particularly sophisticated fighting forms. His combat strength lay entirely in those fundamentals.

"Pick a few people for some practice."

Duncan spotted Kevito in the crowd and casually picked up a crude wooden sword.

Kevito was excited. He looked around and saw plenty of eager faces, so he stepped forward first, then called over several trusted subordinates.

A sword thrust forward.

Duncan shifted his feet casually, immediately making Kevito's thrust miss. With his current combat skills, it would take an expert to force him to dodge with a roll.

Clack!

As Kevito swung at him, Duncan raised his sword to parry. The instant their swords met, he advanced and shifted his footing, moving like a butterfly to appear directly at Kevito's side. His wooden sword was already against Kevito's neck, even leaving a faint red mark.

He had used no real force. At full strength, even a wooden sword could probably have sliced Kevito's throat open.

An uproar rose around them.

Duncan's counterattack was extremely simple: parry, shift, advance, and sweep the blade past. It was the most basic rising cut, yet Kevito was already a "dead man."

Their physical capabilities, combat skills, and reaction speeds were on entirely different levels.

"Again."

Duncan casually picked up a shield and gestured to the six men before him. "Come at me together."

The six were itching to try.

Soon, one man roared, seemingly to bolster his courage, and swept his wooden sword toward Duncan's waist.

Clack.

The wooden shield blocked it, and a backhand thrust sent the man crouching down, clutching his abdomen and crying out in pain. Another man chopped straight down. Duncan lunged forward and swung his shield. With a thud, the man fell flat on his back, nearly knocked unconscious.

Chop, slash, thrust.

Block with the shield.

There were no flashy movements, only the most basic fighting forms. Without using God's Eye View, Duncan knocked all six men to the ground. However, Kevito's desperate final strike grazed his arm with the wooden sword, leaving a faint red mark.

Cheers rose all around.

The watching Exiles cheered both Duncan's extraordinary fighting skills and the fact that Kevito had actually managed to injure him.

Sure enough, without God's Eye View, my abilities are exactly what my stats say they are.

Even with all these combat proficiencies, taking on six men at once was already fairly difficult.

Of course, the outcome would have been completely different if he had been wearing full armor.

Duncan reached down and pulled Kevito to his feet. In a firm voice, he said, "We'll stay here for a few days. During that time, I'll train you in combat."

"Bring over all the settlement's able-bodied young adults."

Delight appeared on Kevito's face, though hearing that Duncan would leave inevitably disappointed him.

Finding a powerful protector in these troubled times was no easy thing.

Duncan naturally had other plans for them, but those required considerable preparation. Without a fleet, he could not transport the Exiles to Britain Island, either. More people meant more mouths to feed and more bodily needs to account for. He did not yet know the situation on Britain Island, so he would have to scout it first.

Medieval Britain Island could certainly accommodate tens of thousands of Exiles while they recuperated and rebuilt their lives.

After all that activity, it was already afternoon.

Duncan examined the mountain settlement and used God's Eye View to direct people in constructing defenses. In reality, he merely arranged a few things at strategic points, giving them more time to react if fighting broke out.

Not all groups of Exiles were rebels.

Kevito sent people to nearby towns to gather news, then tried to contact the merchant ship Anya had arranged.

With the supplies they had seized yesterday, surviving the winter would be no problem.

The Raven Queen, Triss, wandered throughout the settlement. Her beauty was so extraordinary that people dared not look directly at her. After just one afternoon of speaking with the Exiles and mountain folk, more than ten people had become units marked in green.

Some mountain women even tried to kneel and bow when they saw her, addressing her as "Lady Priestess."

Kneeling was already uncommon in the religious rites of Ancient Rome. Apart from honoring the deities they worshipped, Romans more often honored their ancestors. Behind the statues and shrines of their gods, they would often place ancestral tablets so their forebears could share in the offerings.

The Raven Queen, Triss, did not like people kneeling in worship before her.

But kneeling was customary in barbarian religious rites. It took some effort before she finally persuaded those ignorant mountain folk not to drop to their knees whenever they saw her.

Many people here were followers of polytheism.

Generally, only followers of the Church gradually abandoned ancestor worship and ancestral rites. Among faiths genuinely shaped by traditional Roman culture, many households had small family temples honoring household gods of a particular faith, as well as the spirits of their ancestors.

When followers of the Church had been persecuted in the past, one charge against them had been "failure to honor their ancestors," a grave offense in Ancient Rome.

To accommodate the Roman Empire's religious policies at the time, the early Church had once incorporated many ceremonies resembling traditional Roman rites. Its leaders eventually condemned those practices as heresy, however.

There was a reason even the chaotic belief systems of polytheism had managed to unite in persecuting Catholics.

The Exiles were people who could barely survive.

They did not care that much about religion. Whoever could keep them alive could tell them whom to believe in, and they would comply.

Duncan's party stayed there for three days.

Finally, after making contact with the ship Anya had arranged, the five of them disguised themselves and headed to the harbor of a nearby town. The Saxons were not only invading Britain; they were also invading Lesser Germania. Britain had no one looking after it, however, whereas in Lesser Germania they had to face the Franks and the Imperial Border Guard.

For now, Lesser Germania had not fallen completely. At least the Empire still held a few garrison towns.

Blue seas beneath clear skies.

On the eighteenth day since his transmigration, Duncan and his companions had crossed more than half of Europe and finally boarded a ship bound for Britain Island.

The Province of Britannia had already been abandoned.

The Empire had withdrawn its last stationed legion decades ago, leaving Britain Island effectively without anyone in charge, a chaotic region engulfed in warfare. The Saxons had begun a migration and invasion lasting over a century. The traditional Celts' living space was gradually squeezed away, ultimately becoming Wales and Scotland.

Of course, according to legend, King Arthur had reclaimed the lost territory.

Through twelve battles, he and the Knights of the Round Table had driven back the Saxons invading Britain Island. After his death, however, the Saxons had regained an overwhelming advantage.

Duncan's purpose now was to investigate the situation in the British Isles.

A flock of gulls flew past.

The Raven Queen, Triss, stood on deck, gazing toward Britain Island in the distance. Her expression was unreadable, and no one knew what occupied her thoughts. Occasionally, her gaze shifted and settled on Duncan. Once it did, she never looked away.

Anya, meanwhile, was excited. Ultimately, she was only a Roman noblewoman who had seldom even left the Italian Peninsula. Now she gazed curiously toward the distant land, seemingly finding everything fresh and fascinating.

Two-Star Blank.

As the weakest witch Duncan had encountered so far, Anya tried several times to approach him and take his arm in a show of affection. But whenever the Raven Queen, Triss, glanced at her, she instinctively stayed obediently where she was.

"We'll soon reach Britain," Severus said in a low voice.

Druids originated in Celtic culture.

On the European Continent, the Germanic Barbarians were rising, the Huns were pressing ever closer, and the Celts were gradually weakening. After Gaul adopted the Empire's culture, true Druids had become exceedingly rare.

He undoubtedly wanted to preserve the Druids' heritage. Had the Church not sought to exterminate them, judging the people of the old age as "heretics," he would not have resorted to staking everything on one desperate gamble.

"Britain..."

Duncan gazed at the distant land and murmured, "Has King Arthur been born yet?"

The breeze carried a faint trace of blood.

A sailor cried out, "Saxons! Those are Saxon Pirates' warships!"

Since they intended to cross the sea to invade Britain Island, the Saxons were naturally skilled sailors.