Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 618 - 373: Melee_2

Quen Glyph!

An invisible barrier protected him, but it shattered in the next second under the assault of numerous attacks.

"Damn it!"

Geralt couldn't help but feel a chill watching those fiends. He swung his sword to knock one down, then immediately thrust his Longsword through another's chest. Before he could withdraw the Longsword, more attackers were upon him.

Casting a Dharma Seal had a cooldown; it couldn't be used continuously. Suddenly, the pressure increased dramatically, but then a voice came from behind. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"Watch out, bomb!"

Geralt noticed something fly over his head and then saw a bomb fall into the midst of the nearby crowd, instantly disrupting the Heretics' offense.

Geralt seized an opening, kicked away the cultist in front of him, and finally wrenched his Longsword free. With a reverse grip, he instantly beheaded another Heretic who was stunned. Only then did he notice the soldiers pushing through from behind.

Seeing this, Geralt felt quite emotional. In the past, he had always fought alone, seldom teaming up with others. Whenever he encountered danger, he would withstand it by himself or flee if he couldn't win.

Now, he realized he had fallen into a misconception: he didn't need to bear everything alone, because everyone here was an ally.

"That Spellcaster! Quick, disrupt her! Don't let her succeed!" Geralt shouted, marking the target with a gesture.

He could no longer break through on his own. He had to call for support.

As soon as he finished speaking, a ray of Holy Light emerged, shooting directly at the Saintess who was Casting Spells.

"Go to Hell!"

Junia let out a roar, raising the Iron Torch high.

The Holy Light, imbued with divine power, flowed into the Saintess. While such an attack might have affected other Heretics, the Saintess easily parried it.

Measured against the scale of Supernatural Powers, Junia, with the help of the Iron Torch, might have been forcibly elevated to the [Master] level in strength.

But the problem was that the power remaining in the Iron Torch had faded. Now, at best, her strength was at the [Elite] level.

What made the Saintess so revered by the Ascension Sect was her innate talent and the favor of the Old Ancestor, placing her on a [Champion] template similar to Warwolf.

To the Saintess, the force Junia had amassed was nothing more than a pinprick; the minor damage she suffered could be recovered in a breath.

Meanwhile, the Sorcery she was preparing was nearly complete.

Thinking of this, the Saintess's lips curled into a malicious grin as she directed a haughty shout towards her enemies.

"Foolish mortals, I am a god—"

A bomb sailed through the air, exploding right in front of her. The blast stuffed her boastful words back into her mouth and even flipped her over.

Geralt was out of attack range, and Junia's Ability caused no damage, but Hamlet's People were full of talent.

"This is a god?" Sobray weighed the bomb in his hands, a mocking, contemptuous look on his face.

There are no gods in this world. His family members were devout believers; they would even starve themselves to make offerings to the Church. Wasn't that devotion enough? But they had served the farm owner for generations, so why hadn't a god come to their rescue? His most profound childhood memory was hunger. He blamed this damned god for his stunted growth. It wasn't until the Lord's arrival that he could finally eat his fill. That moment made him understand: the Lord was right. The only way to change your life is through self-reliance. That's why he stood here now, fighting for the Lord.

Junia and Sobray's attack on the Saintess drew the attention of the Heretics, and the enraged cultists charged at them.

But Junia was not at all afraid. She raised her hand and swung the Iron Torch. Its edges and spikes, as brutal as a spiked mace, struck the Heretics, leaving not just physical wounds but also strange burns that seemed to suppress their regeneration.

Tamara had once said that the Iron Torch was formerly a Sacred Object of the Holy Flame Church. It had been imbued with divine power because a Saint had used it, rendering it extraordinary.

But the Iron Torch should have been reduced to scrap metal after the previous battle. Although Tamara had spoken of the possibility of it being repaired, nobody knew if this was true or the specific method of repair.

Evidently, Lance wasn't one to place his hope in anything nebulous. He had given the Iron Torch to Junia with a fabricated story, merely to give her a role so she wouldn't wander around aimlessly all day.

But now, even though the Iron Torch hadn't yet displayed immense power, its effects were definitely beyond what an ordinary weapon could achieve.

Could she really have managed to do something with it?

However, in the midst of battle, no one was paying attention to these details; not even Junia herself had particularly noticed the power emanating from the Iron Torch.

The fight had erupted so suddenly. She had been praying in her room, Iron Torch in hand, and when she heard the commotion, she immediately rushed out.

There was no time for her to go back and retrieve her usual weapon, so she had to join the fight with the Iron Torch, swinging it instinctively.

It felt surprisingly good in her hand, though.

However, Junia's slightly pale face indicated that her condition was not good—a clear sign of excessive consumption of Spiritual Essence.

Just moments before, to save those soldiers, she had cast several Divine Arts in a row, pulling them back from the brink of death after the high wall collapsed.

But this had been a significant drain on her, so when the monsters attacked, she hadn't been able to provide immediate support.

But one shouldn't forget her talent, which could even resonate with Holy Light. With the sun now rising, her Spiritual Essence recovered quickly, allowing her to join the counterattack.

Sobray, on the other hand, had no intention of engaging those fiends in close combat. He tossed a bomb behind him as he retreated.

He'd let the Heretics get close, then detonate a bomb. After two or three such blasts, he sent them flying.

Sobray had initially wanted to hit them with a few larger bombs, but upon reaching for them, he discovered he'd run out.

It was exhilarating, but he went through them too quickly. He had no choice but to return to the armory to resupply, disappearing from the battlefield once again.

In contrast, the Saintess struggled up from the ground, one hand covering her face, though she didn't dare touch it.

"AH! AHH! My face!"

Her entire face was disfigured. Numerous shrapnel fragments were embedded in what was once a bewitchingly beautiful visage. One eye had been blasted out, and the burns and explosive damage to her skin were so severe that bone was visible.

Although she was also a Transcendent, not every Transcendent's physique could withstand the force of an explosion. After all, Spellcasters and Warriors followed paths with different specializations.

Yet, a core ability of the Ascension Sect manifested. She plunged her Magic Wand into a nearby corpse, devouring the power from its blood and Flesh. The Flesh on her face writhed, squeezing out the shrapnel as her condition rapidly recovered.

But when she opened that eye again, it revealed a pure black orb. The Magic Wand's connection to her arm seemed to deepen, its influence growing stronger.

Clearly, there was a price to pay for this, but only she knew what it was.

This, however, did not affect the casting of her Sorcery. On the contrary, she had endured those earlier hits precisely to accumulate power; otherwise, she would have counterattacked long ago.

She intended to use the deaths of her followers here as a sacrifice to annihilate all her enemies!

Intense Spirit Light erupted from her body. The death and despair permeating the battlefield condensed into an ominous, even evil, aura that seemed drawn to her, converging in her hand.

BANG!

A relatively quiet gunshot rang out, but the Saintess, as if she had foreseen it, twisted her head and dodged.

The Lead Bullet missed her by a hair's breadth, striking an unfortunate cultist beside her.

Barrett, positioned on the broken wall, was stunned for a moment. This...

He was certain he hadn't missed. It was more like she had dodged in advance.

Even the Deacon couldn't have dodged that shot, yet she did. This was due to a difference in perception. The strengths granted by different paths varied, and it was precisely this superior perception that allowed her to cast such powerful Sorcery.

The eye on the Magic Wand, formed from knotted Flesh, slowly began to open...

"HMPH!"

With a cold snort, Geralt finally broke through the remaining Heretics and appeared before the Saintess.

Casting Spells so brazenly right in front of him? Did she really think he, Geralt, was a dead man?

He raised his hand, wiping his Longsword. Imbuing it with Extraordinary power, he then violently slashed towards the Saintess...