Azure Scepter

Page 31

In the game "Azure Scepter", players can freely choose whether to enable sword skill assistance and spell casting assistance. Most players will choose to enable them because the abilities of sword skill assistance and spell casting assistance will be continuously strengthened as the player's character level increases.

Taking the offensive mode with sword assistance as an example, players do not need to be proficient in all kinds of complicated and sophisticated sword moves in the game. They only need to follow the system prompts and make general movements. The system will then automatically recognize the players' movements and make corresponding corrections. If it is a defensive move, the system will mark the possible attack paths of the opponent in advance, and the player only needs to place the weapon there.

Generally speaking, if a player doesn't take any initiative and relies solely on swordsmanship, their martial arts level can be roughly equivalent to others of the same level and class. As the level increases, the player will not only gain class-specific abilities, expertise points, attribute points, and knowledge skill points, but also defensive capabilities (AC) and accuracy bonuses (AB) based on their martial arts level.

In pursuit of maximum immersion, Trier never activated any such assistance, and after the transmigration, the so-called swordsmanship assistance and spellcasting assistance simply did not exist.

In two days of continuous thrilling battles and magical duels, the transmigrator relied solely on himself.

However, at this moment, even the usually composed transmigrator was momentarily stunned as he looked at the arrow he had casually slashed down. In a daze, a sudden realization dawned on him: "As my professional level increases, it seems my understanding of martial arts has improved."

He slowly raised his head, his gaze passing over the rain of zombies jumping down from the window, and looking at the zombie demon that had just shot an arrow at him.

With his attention fully focused, the corpse demon's movements seemed to slow down, reminding Trier of a small insect falling into sticky resin.

The paladin clearly saw the ghoul's trembling, withered fingers as it drew its bowstring taut, saw the ghostly blue soul fire that flickered as it aimed, and saw its left hand, which was gripping the bow and deformed by the angle it was tilting towards the bow.

"The palm should not be angled against the bow; the arrowhead should not be above the line connecting its eye and me; the fingers controlling the string should be positioned lower."

Countless pieces of information flooded into Trier's mind in an instant. He seemed to vaguely see what lay beneath the corpse demon's stiff movements: the contraction of muscles under force, the misalignment and twisting of joints, and the transmission of pressure through bones—the essence of the force exerted by the movement.

With his attention focused further, Trier seemed to see the "nodes" beneath the complex appearance, where energy was transferred, jumped, and transformed, while the dense threads tightly wrapped around each node trembled slightly.

Trier was no stranger to this feeling; he often had this strange experience when casting spells. And after traveling through time, when he watched the cultists' clumsy spellcasting movements, he often had this condescending feeling, as if he could see right through them.

However, this was the first time that such an impact had occurred in the realm of martial arts.

The next moment, the silk thread representing the "node" connecting the arrow trembled violently, and Trier slashed straight out with his sword. The next moment, he felt an extremely slight vibration from the tip of the sword, like the fine buzzing of a winged insect.

"Sizzle!" The ear-piercing sound of metal clashing jolted Trier out of this strange state, and the sighs and groans of the dead and the angry shouts of the militiamen became real again.

Trier looked down at his feet—the second arrow fired by the ghoul had been cleaved in two from the arrowhead along the shaft!

"This is a steel arrowhead that has been enhanced by a demonized weapon!" Trier looked at the arrow that he had split in two with his sword and was speechless.

"Ah!" Suddenly, a gasp rang in my ears, but it was immediately cut off by a muffled "plop" sound.

The rocket, burning with ghostly energy, pierced the face of the old man whose fatal wound had just been healed by Trier. The blue, cold flames exploded instantly, engulfing the old militiaman's entire body in half a breath.

"Die!!!" the old militiaman screamed hysterically.

Seemingly knowing he was doomed, he fiercely brandished his long-handled machete and charged out of the group without regard for anything else.

The old militiaman, now a human torch, roared like a beast as he charged toward the surging zombies behind him, but the next moment, a dense whistling sound came, and he was instantly riddled with bullets.

More cultists and ghouls armed with firepower climbed onto the buildings behind the group.

Trier took a deep breath and brought himself back to reality—a decision had to be made.

We must either move forward or retreat, but we must never remain stagnant.

"The more urgent the situation, the more we need to stay calm." Trier's thinking speed had reached its limit, and various thoughts flashed through his mind at a rapid pace. "The Silent Whisperers are not well organized and cannot carry out a three-stage attack. Their next volley will take at least ten seconds. I have plenty of time to think."

"If the Stitches, Ghouls, Shadows, and High Undead are still ahead, then advancing will be nothing short of suicide, and we will be unable to achieve our goal of leading the Silent Whisperers into the explosion ritual."

"If the Stitches, Ghouls, Shadows, and High Undead really head straight for the Old Square, then we must move forward! Because at this time, the cultists who control the undead are at their weakest. If we turn back, we will not only lose the only chance to eliminate the manipulators, but there is also a high probability that the militia will collapse directly—retreating is much more difficult than advancing."

"In other words, whether to move forward or backward depends solely on the location of the unknown undead from a profit perspective; and from a risk perspective, moving forward carries less risk—it's time to make a decision."

Trier knew this was an extremely difficult choice; a wrong choice would mean the death of everyone. And due to the lack of necessary information, it was more like a high-stakes gamble.

After half a breath, Trier made his decision.

"Forward! Forward!" he shouted, "Follow the flag!"

He grabbed the dying cultist on the ground, took out the robe "Growing Cold" from his backpack, and roughly put it around the cultist's neck. According to Trier's spellcasting experience, this kind of cursed artifact that can summon monsters from the victim's corpse usually has a delay in its effect when summoning. This time is calculated from the wearer's death and is generally between half a minute and a minute.

"This is a woman's robe!" the cultist protested in a low voice. The next moment, the paladin pierced his stomach with a sword and then coldly turned the hilt of the sword.

"That's the call of victory, hey ya hey ya!" the flag bearer sang hoarsely. His voice was like a spark falling into a powder keg. The next moment, all the militiamen joined in, their loud singing even drowning out the groans of the dead. "Hey ya hey ya!"

Trier tossed aside the corpse of the cultist prisoner, put "Growing Cold" back into his backpack, grabbed the brown wooden spear, and without hesitation stepped out of the ranks, charging toward the motionless skeleton spearmen standing not far away.

Including the time it takes for the cultist to go from near death to actual death, there are at most five minutes left. One to three Undead Demons will be born from the cultist's corpse. Although the militia's defensive efficiency is unexpectedly high, their offensive efficiency will obviously be very low. If the skeletons in front press forward at this time, the Undead Demons will not be generated far away from the militia, but will bloom directly in the center. To be on the safe side, Trier must prevent the dazed sea of ​​skeletons from advancing.

"Lord Trier, don't be impulsive!" the standard-bearer shouted. "Maintaining formation is our only way to survive."

The paladin didn't even turn his head: "Keep going! Speed ​​up!"

He quickened his pace, while the withered skeletons drew ever closer. One by one, the skeletons remained motionless, their cold, eerie blue flames in their eye sockets fixed on the paladin. Hundreds of sharp, short spears were aimed directly at him, their metal tips gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.

A breeze carrying the scent of blood swept by, and looking at the overwhelming mass of silent dead, Trier felt a strange sense of pride welling up inside him.

Adrenaline surged, heart rate increased, vision narrowed, and power surged with the anger in his blood. Everything around him began to blur—the next moment, Trier entered that rather peculiar state again. The dark mass of skeletons seemed to disappear, simplified into a series of simple lines and dots.

Suddenly, Trier's speed increased dramatically. He suddenly felt his body become lighter, and the heavy chainmail on his body suddenly became extremely light. Endless violent power surged through his limbs and bones, and even his mind suddenly became exceptionally clear—a large amount of magical wind was surging!

[You have been affected by the "Haste" spell]

[You have been affected by "High Heroism"]

[You have been affected by "Shared Stone Skin"]

[You have been affected by "Shared Protection Against Evil"]

[You have been affected by "Herd of Bulls' Brute Force", Strength temporarily increased by 4]

[You have been affected by "The Agility of the Pack Cats", your Dexterity is temporarily increased by 4]

[You have been affected by "The Resilience of the Pack Bears," temporarily granting +4 to Constitution.]

[You have been affected by "Wisdom of the Crowd," Perception temporarily +4]

[You have been affected by "The Cunning of the Foxes," temporarily increasing your Intelligence by 4.]

Although the sudden magical support startled him, he was already on the verge of giving up and had no choice but to charge into the skeletons' spear formation without hesitation!

With the added boost of magic, he moved as fast as a silver comet. Just as he was about to touch the spear tip, the paladin suddenly ducked and swung his brown wooden spear, which was burning with white holy flames, forward at a low angle.

The heavy wooden shaft thundered past, its cold tip, trailing a brilliant white flame, crashing into the horde of skeletons. With a sickening cracking sound, the first five skeleton spearmen were swept backward as if by a scythe.

"Whoosh!" Five of the seven or eight short spears aimed at Trier were instantly blown away, while the remaining two pierced through the chainmail but were rendered useless by the Stone Skin spell.

Without a second thought, the paladin accelerated by pushing off the ground, crashing headlong into a skeleton through the gap created by the Holy Slash and the subsequent cleavage. The two short spears stuck in his chainmail snapped instantly.

Trier groaned, warm blood trickling from his nose and mouth. His eyes reddened, and he swung another powerful backhand slash to the left. The brown wooden spear snapped in two with a "crack," the cold iron tip spinning as it sliced ​​through a bone skeleton. Wherever it passed, nothing could compare. Holy white flames instantly ignited on the remains of the skeletons, bone dust and pure white light falling like white petals scattered in a triumphant celebration.

Despite his injury, Trier felt incredibly relieved, the heavy pressure that had been building up in his heart for the past three days instantly vanishing.

"What are you standing there for? Stop him!" A sharp, impatient voice rang out from the horde of skeletons. "No, stop those survivors! Use the Grease spell, quick!"

The paladin raised an eyebrow, casually smashing the skull of a skeleton. Then, he twisted his waist and hurled the half-section of brown wood in his hand toward the direction from which the sound came. The next moment, he drew his longsword, turned around again, and slashed fiercely at the short spears thrust out by the skeletons on his left.

"Bang!" In the peculiar vision composed of points and lines, countless energy-carrying nodes were instantly annihilated. The sword hummed as it passed, cleaving countless short spears in two. The spinning broken spears rained down on the skeleton horde, causing another wave of chaos and destruction.

Skeletons were everywhere. Although the paladin knocked down four more skeletons with his swing, seven or eight short spears still pierced through, instantly shattering the piety shield he had just cast on himself.

Thanks to the shield of piety, the force of the stabs was completely neutralized as soon as they touched the chainmail.

“Their next move is a ground-pushing thrust,” Trier thought.

The next moment, the skeletons that had pierced Trier with their short spears all pushed off the ground, sending the paladin flying. Using the skeletons' momentum, Trier staggered backward.

Crimson blood gushed from the wounds like a fountain. Trier gritted his teeth and abruptly retreated, completely leaving the threatening range of the skeleton spearmen.

—The skeletons' formation was in complete disarray! At this moment, the militia wielding various polearms surged forward! With the support of devastating magical buffs, their combat power increased dramatically, and the chaotic skeletons crumbled the moment they came into contact with the aggressive minion line.

The skeletons crumbled at the slightest touch! The militiamen advanced rapidly in neat formation, and the skeletons offered almost no resistance, collapsing backward like a bulldozer destroying a slab of earth.

"Lord Trier!" The standard-bearer stepped to the front row and thrust his flagpole forward, smashing the skull of a skeleton with its tip. He then helped the paladin up and asked with concern.

Trier shook his head, gripped the holy emblem, and cast Holy Healing on himself. A gentle warmth immediately flowed through his palm and filled his entire body, instantly numbing and soreness from the bleeding wound. A moment later, he successfully stopped the bleeding.

"Forward! Forward!" the paladin shouted as he retreated to the middle of the ranks.

The militia's morale had reached an unbelievable level, and Trier even had time to observe the overall situation of the battlefield. He looked back—a death demon as tall as a giant had appeared on the road at some point, swinging its wooden club and frantically harvesting the soul fragments of the walkers.

The next moment, a fireball, trailing an orange-red flame, struck a Deathbringer. The high-ranking demon from the post-apocalyptic wasteland let out a low wail, and then slammed into the building beside it.

"Bang!" Bricks and stones flew everywhere. The cultist who was casting the spell was thrown out of the building and immediately grabbed by the Death Servant Demon. Under the effect of the Death Gaze, the cultist struggled desperately, but within a few breaths he turned into a dried-up corpse.

—The rear is safe for now.

"Exile otherworldly creatures, you fools, hurry up!" Trier heard the impatient and shrill roar again.

The paladin turned around and discovered that the seemingly endless horde of skeletons was almost breached! Several members of the Silent Whisperers, dressed in black robes, were hiding behind the skeletons.

"We made the right bet!" Trier's heart leaped with joy. "The Stitches, the Shadows, the High Undead, and the Ghouls have all gone to the Old Square. The cultists who control the sea of ​​undead are right in front of us!"

"Next, all we need to do is kill them step by step, and the course of the Beaver Town incident will be completely set."

"But what exactly is going on with this sudden magical support?"

His gaze flickered slightly as he glanced at the information panel.

[The copper dragon Orius has cast "Acceleration" on you.]

[The bronze dragon Aurelius has unleashed "High Heroism" upon you.]

"Why would it suddenly cast a spell on the militia? It doesn't make sense according to the plan." Trier looked back at the distant horizon with a puzzled expression—atop the collapsed tower of the Old Square, the enormous bronze dragon took a deep breath and then exhaled its dragon breath!

However, in the next instant, it suddenly stopped breathing. It stopped as if it had been petrified. After a moment, it began to tremble violently, and its huge dragon wings even generated strong winds due to the trembling.

"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!!" The dragon's terrified voice echoed throughout the town.

The next moment, it fell from the top of the tower in a daze, and then transformed into a tiny human figure—the light distorted, and the tiny human figure disappeared.

"It escaped?" Trier stared in disbelief.

Chapter 56 Slaughter

Under the effect of the invisibility spell, the bronze dragon completely disappeared.

As the commander of the undead, Castor felt a surge of joy at being saved from the brink of death. He shouted excitedly, "The Listener has succeeded! We are saved!"

By this time, the battle group of skeleton spearmen was utterly defeated. The untrained militia swept in like a flood, and Castor could even see the irregular dents in the chainmail of the leading paladin caused by the thrusts of short spears.

The paladin brandished his longsword, the black, cold iron blade trailing a white streak as it swept over the undead before him. A flash of fire, and bone dust stained with icy flames scattered and flew through the air like snowflakes.

The battle line began to retreat again. In the thick dust raised by the ashes, the paladin's figure flashed by. He once again seized the opportunity to slip into the gap between the short spears. The gleaming blade and the short spears separated and joined in abruptly, and the cold, crisp sound of the skull falling sounded like a death knell.

Unstoppable!

As the militia and paladins drew ever closer, the pressure on Caster increased exponentially. Under this immense pressure, he felt his movements and mind begin to distort; he experienced wave after wave of dizziness and had no idea what to do.

"That's not human, that's a monster! He's harvesting crops!" an apprentice lamented. "This is beyond human resistance! This is divine punishment from the Radiant God! Run!"

"At their rate of advance, we won't last until the Listeners return to reinforce us! Think of something, Caster!" the burly man with sword scars on his face shouted hoarsely. "At this rate, we're doomed!"

"Shut up, I'm thinking of a solution! There's no use in you urging me!" Caster roared.

Suddenly, Castor recognized the paladin's face—it was Trier! The foreigner infected with the blood plague, the timid one who always followed Sister Noy!

How can it be! ?

"If you ask me, let's fight them! Whether we run or not, we're all going to die anyway, so we might as well bite off a piece of their flesh!"

The burly man roared, gripping his heavy halberd and looking eagerly at Caster, "Give the order now, Caster, don't wait any longer!"

"Shut up, you gay!" the apprentice who suggested running away protested. "I have a better idea. He's a paladin, and everyone knows paladins don't execute prisoners. Why don't we just surrender!"

"Stop dreaming!" the burly man sneered. "Why should those militiamen let you go? Just because you know a few spells?"

The apprentice sneered in return: "Of course. Spellcasters always receive preferential treatment, but you're sure to be doomed."

Caster looked around and noticed that the twenty-odd spellcasters around him seemed to be hesitant, while only the burly warrior looked furious.

Perhaps... surrendering is a better option? Castor thought to himself.

"Victory is within reach, forward, friends! Forward!" Suddenly, amidst the clash of weapons, Castor heard a familiar, deep male voice—he instinctively looked in the direction of the voice and found that it was a paladin boosting morale.

“That voice…” Castor’s voice began to tremble. “By the radiance above, this is the voice my teacher uttered before he died—a voice that doesn’t belong to him! That’s not a paladin, that’s a demon! That’s a demon!”

The horrific memories transformed into the most terrifying hallucinations. He seemed to see his teacher's eyeballs again, those worm-like eyeballs supported by bloody nerve bundles... A sharp ringing in his ears overwhelmed everything, and he felt as if he were staring into his teacher's gouged-out eyeballs.

He was so frightened that he went into a state of catatonia.

"Go to hell, you cowards! I'm going to face my fate!" the burly man roared. He leaped off the building with his halberd, then squeezed through the horde of skeletons and charged toward the paladin who was wreaking havoc.

Castor unconsciously watched the burly man's movements. The man had indeed squeezed to the forefront of the battle. He was like a shadow, lurking among the skeletons, slowly approaching the paladin.

Perhaps there's a chance? The radiance will surely destroy the devil! A glimmer of hope rose within Castor.

The next moment, Castor watched in horror as the paladin swung the back of his sword at the burly man's face—seemingly in the exact same spot as before. Faced with such immense force, the man was sent hurtling into the horde of skeletons like a ball hit by a baseball bat; several skeletons, unable to retract their spears in time, pierced his buttocks.

The paladin abruptly raised his head, his icy gaze meeting Caster's. Caster felt as if an arrow had pierced his brain, and the world around him began to tremble...