Forest Banshee! The End of an Old Era

Night deepened.

A rustling suddenly came from the dense woods, followed by the appearance of a burly figure draped in a gray cloak. He wore light gray leather-trimmed chainmail, brown bracers on both hands, black fingerless gloves, straps wrapped around his waist, and gray leather trousers.

Beneath his hood were a pair of cold, merciless eyes. When he narrowed them slightly, his pupils shifted like a cat's, taking on the outline of near-vertical slits, though they resembled the eyes of a legendary dragon more closely.

This fierce-looking figure seemed to possess an exceptionally keen sense of smell. A cloth sack hung at his waist, dark red blood seeping from it. Judging from its shape, it seemed to contain a head.

"The scent of Sorcery."

The vicious figure drew his longsword, crouched, and examined the corpses on the ground. His expression turned startled. "Killed in a single blow? A Farron Throwing Axe?"

"A veteran."

He took a bag from the Ranger's corpse. It contained food, something like barley flour. He pinched off a little, tasted it, then quickly ate half of it with water from his flask. Only then did he leave the woods and sprint down the country road. His agility far surpassed that of a Barbarian Berserker, and he relied entirely on instinct to avoid every obstacle along the way.

He ran without pause.

The agile figure finally stopped where a flock of crows had gathered. One hand rested on his sword hilt as he warily surveyed the surroundings, then crouched down as if searching for something.

But he seemed to find nothing.

The figure had no intention of giving up. He removed the cloth sack from his waist and took out a horrifying head with a savage face, covered in black, thorn-like hair. He cracked open the skull with his sword, dug out a small lump of dark yellow, grease-like substance, then mixed it with several bottles and jars before drinking it. His eyes immediately transformed into vertical dragon pupils, and he followed traces invisible to mortal eyes until he reached the riverbank.

"Raven Queen—Triss."

The figure instantly turned toward the flock of crows perched on nearby branches. His expression became incomparably grave as he muttered, "I never expected to track down one of the founders of the Witch Coven."

The ground trembled faintly.

The thunder of warhorses came from the distance. There seemed to be hundreds of riders.

The burly figure hesitated briefly before choosing to retreat. His personal strength might have been formidable, but he was no match for an army. He did not care about three to five ordinary warriors, but ten or so would give him trouble. If he encountered a properly organized small force of soldiers, he would very likely be surrounded and killed by the army.

If he faced those hundreds of cavalry head-on, they could trample him into a puddle of flesh.

The moon rose, pale red in color. An ominous sight.

The caravan abandoned its goods and traveled through the night, finally reaching a place to rest before it became too dark to continue.

Duncan did not dare let down his guard. He closed his eyes and rested lightly. Everyone only rested for three hours before setting out again at first light. Some of the wounded in the group had already fallen unconscious, lying in the carts with weak breaths. No one knew how much longer they could endure.

Finally, on the afternoon of the second day, the caravan spotted a small town in the distance.

After asking around, they learned that they had reached the northern Province of Pannonia.

Duncan had only been fleeing for three days, but the other refugees in the caravan had fled for a full five days. For a moment, many broke into tears of relief at having survived.

The guards escorted their leader into town and urgently sought out an Herbalist for treatment.

Some of their wounds had only been crudely bandaged and had now worsened, oozing pus. The guard leader had lost a great deal of blood. If he was not treated quickly, they would probably be attending his funeral within days.

After conquering the northern Barbarians, the Empire had also absorbed some of their cultural traditions.

The northern Herbalists were unrivaled throughout the Empire. Their medical skill far surpassed that of other regions because their predecessors had been Celtic Priests—the legendary Druids. Today, the Celts had declined among the many Barbarian tribes, and most of Gaul had been completely assimilated by the Empire. Yet their knowledge of herbal medicine had been passed down through physicians.

The Barbarians mentioned by the Empire nowadays mainly referred to the Germanic People. The West Germanic People were Civilized Barbarians, conquered by the Empire centuries ago, and had formed ruling groups composed of five major tribes. The North Germanic People lived in frigid lands. They were one branch of the Wild Barbarians and frequently raided the Empire's borders.

Besides them, the Barbarians had many tribal branches. The Empire's cultural traditions were exceedingly arrogant, regarding most neighboring tribes and peoples as uncivilized savages.

Among the Empire's Barbarian Mercenaries, the Franks were the fiercest fighters.

During the Empire's golden age, it had once assembled thirty-six legions, nearly three hundred thousand troops, to wage wars of conquest against the surrounding Barbarians. The Civilized Barbarians who had essentially integrated into the Empire had accepted Imperial cultural transformation during that era. During Constantine I's reign, large numbers of Barbarians migrated into the Empire. They gradually became the backbone of the army, and after being assimilated by the Empire, they became its core military strength.

Most of the Empire's remaining capable legions were commanded by Barbarian generals.

The Empire's true legacy lay with the Barbarians!

Over several centuries, corruption from top to bottom had weakened the Empire more and more. It had long since lost the ambition and valor it once possessed when conquering the continent.

"Looks like this is very likely Earth in a parallel universe."

The moment Duncan entered town, he saw the cross atop a church. Polytheism had already left the stage of history, and the Empire's state religion was now Catholicism. The Witch Hunt had originally been started by The Church, though it had not initially targeted Witches. It had targeted all Pagans, including the Empire's former orthodox Polytheism.

Ever since the Edict of Milan had been issued, Monotheism had held absolute dominance for over a century. Polytheism gradually faded away until even the last Altar dedicated to it had been demolished.

Many inheritors of the Priests from the era of Polytheism had been judged as male and female practitioners of Sorcery. That was the origin of the prematurely launched Witch Hunt.

Simply put, it was more like unifying faith, destroying temples, and uprooting everything completely.

It was also from that time onward that rumors of supernatural powers became fewer and fewer.

The group found an inn to rest at.

Everything here still differed greatly from the Earth Duncan remembered, but he needed to gather more information before he could understand this world more deeply.

Almagun bustled about attentively, waiting on everyone. Duncan could barely stand watching anymore, so he tossed him two silver coins and told him to find a physician to treat the arrow wound in his butt first. The man's wound had split open, and blood was still seeping from his backside, yet he gritted his teeth and continued serving like a lackey.

After Duncan entered his room to rest, he began sorting through his spoils.

There was not much he could carry, mainly coins. During Augustus's era, the Empire had clearly established a system of gold, silver, and copper currency. The most common was the Denarius silver coin, and later several small-denomination silver coins had been minted as supplementary currency. Early Denarius coins bore various designs, but later they were standardized with Augustus's portrait on the front and a Triumphal Arch on the reverse. This was also the most common type of silver coin at present.

6 gold, 56 silver, and several copper coins.

One gold coin came from the Gloomy Knight, three from the routed Barbarian soldiers, and two had been found on the Ranger. However, one gold coin bore the face of a bearded man wearing a crown. Duncan had no idea which country had minted it. It might have been a gold coin from Mesopotamia.

Most of the silver coins were Denarii. A small number of coins from other countries had been found on the Ranger.

Clink, clink.

Duncan put away the coins before him. This was all the wealth he currently possessed.

After entering town, the food improved considerably. The staple was hard, dry bread, somewhat like a baguette and originating from Fran, served with smoked meat and vegetable soup, plus a small sausage. Lodging and three meals cost two silver coins per day, making it seem as though silver coins did not have much purchasing power either.

After all, an Imperial Infantryman's annual pay was only around 225 Denarii.

The Empire had been plagued by war in recent years, and many soldiers had not received much pay at all. Once war broke out, hardly anyone was willing to risk their life for the Empire.

"The silver content seems pretty low. This Empire is doomed sooner or later!"

Duncan picked up a silver coin and examined it before casually tossing it back into the money pouch. He had not been an Imperial fanatic in his previous life. If the Empire was going to collapse, then let it collapse. He would not even mind giving it a push. The Empire was now being propped up by Barbarian armies. The moment the Barbarians stopped fighting for it, its collapse would come in an instant.

Night fell.

Duncan sat cross-legged and meditated, entering God's Eye View as he pondered what other functions his cheat had yet to unlock.

By his understanding, after transmigrating, his soul had become bound to that empty Dimensional Space. His Human Form was the key that allowed him to enter the real world. If his Human Form died, he could only sleep in that void for an unknown length of time. Perhaps he would even sleep himself to death in there.

Duncan felt that his soul was still the soul of an ordinary person. His Human Form should be an extremely important tool to him right now.

His consciousness entered the void.

Under God's Eye View, every person in the small town was marked. The most conspicuous was still the Witch staying in the room next to the inn. Her skull marker was simply too eye-catching, like a world-class boss constantly moving around.

The other units were scattered throughout the map. There were quite a few One-Star markers, as well as one Two-Star unit labeled "Retired Centurion."

Duncan was curiously using God's Eye View to gather information on the town.

All of a sudden.

At the edge of the map, a striking Golden Three-Star Mark unit appeared. He was dressed efficiently in a hooded cloak and chainmail, with a longsword on his back. Without making a sound, he climbed over the wooden wall and entered the town.

—Witcher (Dragonblood) [Neutral Unit]!

Hiss!

The three golden stars on this guy were so dazzling.

From the perspective of playing Medieval Total War before, this guy was at least an elite unit, strong enough to fight a small squad of soldiers by himself. As for the Witch in the caravan, she was undoubtedly a hero unit. Her strength was unfathomable, and she was the strongest supernatural individual Duncan had encountered so far.

"Looks like these supernatural units all belong to neutral factions."

"Do they keep their distance from the secular world?"

Duncan carefully observed through God's Eye View and confirmed that the man only carried one sword, rather than a silver sword and a steel sword.

He was incredibly strong!

The man wandered through town for a while, moving just like in Assassin's Creed. He took a running leap, grabbed the eaves, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, and used powerful core strength to flip himself up. In the blink of an eye, he had reached the rooftop.

Ordinary people simply could not perform such difficult movements.

The Witcher gradually approached the inn, but he hesitated in an alleyway. Duncan zoomed in and adjusted the brightness, seeing him weigh his coin pouch in his hand. Then he turned around and slipped into a nearby shack, lying directly down on a pile of straw in the livestock shed.

It was close to dawn now, and staying at an inn at this hour was not cost-effective. Judging from his actions, Duncan guessed he was trying to save money, though he might also have wanted to conveniently monitor the area.

"Has the Denarius depreciated so much that even Witchers are broke?" Duncan almost laughed.

Just as expected of the Empire.

A faint sound came from next door. The Witch's marker moved. She stepped out of her room and stood in the hallway. After pausing for several seconds, she stood quietly outside Duncan's door for a moment, then silently headed out of the inn.

"Should I follow her and take a look?"

The Witch had already left the inn. Duncan hesitated briefly before following her.

With God's Eye View, he did not need to stay too close. As long as she did not leave the map's visible range, the Witch should not be able to discover him either.

Duncan controlled his character with his thoughts, secretly following from an observer's perspective at a distance of roughly one hundred and fifty meters.

In the livestock shed, atop the straw pile, the Golden Three-Star Mark Witcher flipped upright.

"Are his five senses that sharp?" Duncan instantly became highly alert.

Yet under God's Eye View, the Witcher also hunched down and quietly followed, maintaining a distance of about fifty meters. He moved with extreme caution, as though afraid Duncan would notice him.

One was following another.

The Witch made no sound at all as she moved, drifting like a ghost. If Duncan had not activated his cheat, he would never have detected her. The Witcher had failed to track the Witch, but he had noticed Duncan's footsteps. He had therefore indirectly picked up the Witch's trail.

"What is she going to do?" Duncan was slightly puzzled.

The Witch left town and entered the dense forest. Without God's Eye View, Duncan would have lost her long ago.

After walking for an unknown distance, moonlight poured down from the sky.

A towering oak tree appeared ahead.

Under Duncan's God's Eye View, the Witch had removed her mask, revealing a face so beautiful that it was almost bewitching. She did not seem human, but more like a legendary succubus that seduced all living beings. The skin exposed at her neck and collarbones was so pale it almost reflected light, a cold porcelain-white complexion that even the most pampered noblewoman of this era rarely possessed.

"Priest, save me!"

Just then, a hazy phantom appeared in the open woodland ahead, taking the outline of a beautiful woman. Her features gradually became clear. She stepped out from the oak tree's shadow, dropped to her knees before the Witch, and pleaded, "Save me!"

Huh?!

Duncan's pupils widened slightly.

—Forest Banshee (Dryad) [Neutral]!

The Forest Banshees of Greek mythology, also known as Dryads and called Goddesses of the Forest, were lower-ranking, young and beautiful natural Elves. They lived on mountaintops (Oread Mountain), by springs and rivers (Naiad River), or within forest trees (Dryad Forest). They symbolized the irrational, animalistic side of human nature. Legend held that every oak tree housed an Elf, and that these Elves conveyed divine revelations to humanity through Forest Banshees.

Another supernatural unit.

But she only had a One-Star marker. Her combat strength was probably not much to speak of.

The Witch frowned slightly and shook her head. "I am not a Priest."

"The era of Priests has passed."

Just as the Forest Banshee revealed a look of pitiful despair, the Witch softly added, "What danger have you encountered?"

Hearing the Witch's words, the Forest Banshee seemed to seize her final lifeline. Her voice sorrowful, she said, "Witch Hunters!"

"The Church's Witch Hunters."

"They want to wipe us out completely!"

"A very powerful Witch Hunter has come here. He will never let me go!"

"My lady, save me."

Hearing the Forest Banshee's words, Duncan instinctively turned to glance at the Witcher following behind. After entering the forest, the Witcher had lost the trail and fallen one or two hundred meters behind, but he seemed skilled at tracking and had gradually caught up again.

However, he seemed to have tracked the wrong location. He bypassed Duncan and headed straight toward the Witch.