Thanks to stable logistical supplies, these armies now eat pork stew with carrots and onions, along with salted fish porridge, and bread as their staple food.

The daytime battles were too fierce, and they could only chew on jerky during brief breaks. Now, being able to have a mouthful of something warm is more important than anything else to the physically and mentally exhausted soldiers.

In fact, the camp is now operated by logistics personnel, who brought over the last batch of supplies today and then stayed on to organize camp affairs.

Most soldiers are attending to minor injuries or maintaining their weapons, and repairing armor, which are all crucial for surviving the upcoming battles.

More of them are just lying down with exhausted faces, as the high-intensity battles have made them understand why the training was so tough.

But not everyone can enjoy a moment of peace.

Lance's concerns were valid. Target number three serves as a retreat for those cultists trapped in the wilderness, akin to the importance of an outpost for Hamlet's Army.

Even while the cultists have taken a break, battles continued to erupt at target number three.

"Pay more!" Tadiff roared from beneath his helmet, as he swung his axe downward.

Collect the bounty!

The heretic got chopped in the neck, and his head tilted, dying instantly.

Alhazred held up the Skull Candleholder in one hand while making gestures with the other, causing a shadow to appear under the heretic rushing forward.

Abyssal Force!

Darkness is the best cover, and immediately shadowy tendrils stretched out, immobilizing the unalert heretic.

Geralt seized the opportunity, charging in and decapitating the heretic with a swing of his longsword.

But the night still churned with evil winds, and sorcery fueled by these corpses exuded a despair-inducing fear upon them.

Geralt realized that a Heretic Priest was hiding in the darkness. His golden eyes scanned around, but before he could act, new heretics rushed forward, interrupting his rhythm.

Yet before the heretic could get close, a trusted aide intercepted, with a longsword clashing against iron claws, sending sparks that lit up the two foes.

The darkness may obscure ordinary folks' vision, but it couldn't hide from Alhazred's heart.

The candleholder he held suddenly burst into a cold white flame. With a gesture, the swirling spiritual essence transformed into runes manifesting in the void, targeting the sneaky priest in the next moment.

"There!"

Without needing a reminder, Geralt saw the target marked by Alhazred revealing himself from the darkness, just a few steps away from an attempt. However, an impending sense manifested.

In previous kills, priests would either retreat or call for protection, so why was there no movement from this one?

A slight hesitation slowed his pace, and his combat instincts saved him from stepping into a trap.

Because at that moment, a sharp claw emerged from the darkness, and Geralt instinctively cast the Quen Glyph, the supernatural power forming a shield before him, which was instantly shattered by the claw strike.

Only then did Geralt realize that the shadow beside the priest was not a tree trunk but a monster over two meters tall.

Tangled dry hair, irregular protruding sharp teeth, blood-red eyes composed its grim visage, while its gaunt body contrasted with its large bone structure. Though humanoid, its arms were unusually long, and its claws could slice through stone.

Geralt was a Witcher specialized in slaying monsters, and no one knew better than him what kind of creature stood before him.

Ghoul!

Moreover, a mutated one; otherwise, it wouldn't be this powerful, as evidenced by the patches of red tissue on its body.

The battle did not pause for an instant, the ghoul surged forward, its claws hewing through the air like a cleaver.

Geralt dared not underestimate it. His longsword collided with the claws, and he immediately felt the strain, stepping back two paces to regain his balance.

Typically, before hunting, he would investigate the monster type and prepare the appropriate gear and traps.

He especially preferred luring such tough brutes into traps, relying on external forces rather than brute force alone.

In his mind, Geralt had nine strategies against ghouls, but the urgency of the situation left no room for overthinking. He could only brace himself for the challenge.

"Ah!!!"

A rage-filled roar sounded as Barin, clad in heavy armor, crashed in from the side.

Even the two-meter-tall and imposing ghoul couldn't withstand it and was knocked over.

"Kill!"

As soon as Barin steadied himself, he swung a great axe towards the ghoul. If it hit, even a supernatural monster would suffer.

Unexpectedly, the ghoul wasn't stunned; instead, it swiftly raised its claws to block. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Pity it didn't understand what a heavy weapon truly was.

The claws that had clashed with Geralt's longsword without damage were cleaved through, splitting half a hand by the axe's edge.

Yet this puzzled Barin somewhat, as he assumed he could sever an entire arm. The sensation felt like striking a sturdy tree trunk, with bones as hard as stone. What on earth was this monster?

In battles, there's seldom much exchange of words, which is why the concept of tacit understanding exists.