Your Majesty's money, why don't you engrave my name on it?

As the group drew closer, Bella and Angelita's expressions turned pale, and Margaret covered her mouth and nose, running to the side to vomit!

It was a pile of flesh and blood made up of the carcasses of various pheasants, rabbits, and other small animals. It was unknown how many days it had been there. Most of it was already rotten and smelly, and even more so, fat maggots were crawling on and inside it! The group also noticed that not far away, several cats, dogs, foxes, and other animals had already collapsed and died, also dead for several days. It seemed that they were related to this rotting flesh.

“We do enjoy poaching pheasants and rabbits, but this…” Sistine looked troubled. “What kind of person would ‘buy’ these things? I doubt even livestock would want to try this!”

"Then the person we met yesterday—" Everyone clearly remembered that yesterday they chatted with a passerby, and that person was carrying a few pheasants!

“I didn’t notice it at the time, but now that I think about it, I’m afraid…” Daisy said wistfully, “Compared to the witch’s methods, even Old Ray seems like a gentleman.”

Chapter 284 The Meeting in the Sword

“Don’t let Patrick hear that,” Leslaufer scoffed. “Besides, I don’t agree with it myself. Good and evil will be judged by history. Comparisons can only make you feel superior or at ease, but they don’t change the facts.”

"But I won't do that: I only feel superior and at ease when I don't compare myself to others in this regard."

"Then you are really wicked."

“Say what you will,” Leslaufer said, stopping after walking a short distance. “There is at least one ‘person’ here today who will agree with me.”

Passing through the last patch of lush bushes, the sight before them made everyone's breath catch in their throats once more. The once towering oak tree was now nothing but a twisted trunk, its bark covered with eerie black patterns, like the marks of some kind of curse. The crown was long gone, replaced by countless broken vines, drooping helplessly like dying snakes.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, a mixture of burnt wood and blood. Each soft thud of boots on the ground evoked images of days when druids danced barefoot here, feeling the pulse of the earth.

However, now...

A massive wooden door, shattered into seven pieces, lay scattered among the vines that bound it, its contents intertwined with those of a human woman clad in a blood-stained emerald robe. She clutched an oak staff, its emerald head broken in two. Bella knelt, intending to close the woman's still-open eyes, but the instant she touched them, she discovered that her pupils had turned an eerie purplish-black.

"Rest in peace, sister," she shook her head sadly, "you died for your homeland, and this land will remember your sacrifice and despise your enemies."

Entering through this door, one sees scattered images of different druids in various dead states: an old man and his wolf companion, seemingly driven mad, were still tearing at each other in the last second before their deaths, their blood indistinguishable; a young girl huddled in a corner, her antler headdress broken by brute force, her face, scratched by sharp claws, already rotting beyond recognition.

“This size is for that hag,” Leslaufer measured, “but this is a bit much. What does a little girl know? She wasn’t being driven to attack.”

"But it will happen soon—I'd be more than happy to finish that hag off when she's dying."

"Heh heh heh, you really think you're someone important!"

A hoarse, eerie laugh suddenly echoed from the depths of the society. A nauseatingly sweet stench wafted through the cold wind. Sharp thorns sprouted from the rose vines, the blossoms turned a ghastly white, and black sap oozed from their centers. The apple trees that once bore fruit were now covered with fist-sized growths, their surfaces crisscrossed with vein-like patterns.

Amidst this grotesque and disgusting scene, a gaunt, hunched, enormous skeleton pierced through the ethereal plane and appeared out of thin air before everyone. She looked like an extremely ugly and filthy old woman, with a sickly, grayish-green face covered in wrinkles and warts, adorned with a pair of sunken red eyes, a flat, large nose, and a huge mouth full of sharp teeth.

Her bird-claw-like feet lay unkempt in the mud and filth, clutching a wooden club that was more like a blunt weapon than a staff. Her tattered robe was shamelessly adorned with teeth, bones, and fragments of corpses, as if this made her beautiful.

However, perhaps that was indeed the case in her own eyes, since the witch doctor regarded ugliness as beauty and beauty as ugliness.

“One, two, three, four, five! Five ugly hags in total!” Granny Nightingale pointed at each woman in front of her, her tone growing angrier with each new number. “What are you despicable ugly hags doing here? I’ve already let you go, why are you courting death!”

“You’re courting death,” Angelita’s eyes turned cold. “Your evil ends here!”

"A dog catching a mouse..." the old hag cursed. "I had already done enough, but you ruined my plans! You stole the souls of the townspeople and my bag! You are robbers and thieves! The entire town, even the druids of this society, have died in vain because of you!"

"Not to mention the sacrifices used to make that bag—because of you, how many more people will I have to kill? Not to mention that you personally killed those townspeople; you are villains too!"

“I’m sorry, we just discussed this, it’s a pity you weren’t here,” Margaret said immediately when she saw Angreta’s face turn slightly red. “Even if we’re not good people, at least we’ve rid ourselves of a menace.”

"Then you are still doing evil!" The hag cackled, pointing her wooden stick at Angelita's longsword. "I didn't look closely last night, but isn't that a paladin's sword? Used to smear the blood of victims! How ironic! How ridiculous! What would its former owner think? What would the oath on this sword think?"

"Use your brain, little girl! You're going further and further down the wrong path! You'll become just like me! A monster! Hahahaha—"

Angelita held up the long poem of vows, the oaths on it like pairs of eyes scrutinizing her heart and judging her. In a daze, the girl seemed to have arrived at a secluded forest clearing, with a lake as smooth as jade laid out beside her, and a huge round table in front of her.

Tall, pointed-eared phantoms, unlike anything seen before, appeared one after another in the seats below Angrita. Their faceless bodies revealed no emotion, but they silently cast inquiring glances at the girl.

"Where is this?" Angelita asked, her voice sounding so unreal even to herself.

"In the realm of oaths, you are our fifth lord," one of the two closest figures spoke, "and this once will shatter your illusions."

Angelita could recognize from the few syllables that it was the ancient pronunciation of the elven mantra. She couldn't help but look at the sword in her hand; the oath awaited her.

"Though you have summoned us, the road ahead remains unclear, is it?" another figure spoke up. "It is alright, humans, we each have a question."

Are you driven by selfish desires?

“I think so,” Angelita hesitated for a moment, then nodded somewhat awkwardly, “I didn’t want to die, so I ran away; I didn’t want to be looked down upon, so I lost my mind and borrowed money to fight back against that old shopkeeper…”

“Yes,” unexpectedly, the figure nodded, and then another figure asked, “Are you willing to rely on your numbers to attack the few?”

Angelita looked conflicted, but still nodded.

"Do you oppose the good?" "Do you commit acts of injustice?" "Do you condone evil?"

Angelita nodded or shook her head truthfully, but unfortunately, she found that apart from the path of joining forces with the hero, she probably couldn't do any of the others.

"But actually, it depends on the occasion, right?" Feeling utterly ashamed, the girl tried to salvage some face. "Nothing can be generalized, right? There must be prerequisites, if—"

“You are not a saint,” another figure closest to her interrupted before the girl could finish her explanation, “and you are not a pilgrim either.”

“But perhaps, he is a worthy king.” Angelita’s eyes widened, because the other person had spoken these words in the Imperial language!

But the other party was no longer giving her any more time; the surrounding scenery was turning into nothingness: "You already know what lies ahead; this discussion shall end. Farewell, my lord."

But as the hag's grotesque face, contorted with arrogance after her scheme succeeded, reappeared before Angelita's eyes, another voice, whether a hallucination or not, continued to echo in her ears:

“Praise be to Angelita… Your Majesty.”

Chapter 285 The Lost Sheep

"You've figured it out?" The old hag snorted twice. "If you've figured it out, then get lost and don't bother me again!"

“I think I might understand,” Angelita said after a moment of silence, but she still raised the long poem of perseverance. “But I don’t see how this has anything to do with you.”

"You think you can still unleash the power of this sword?" Granny Nightingale sneered, extending her staff from her claws. Several deadly missiles, streaking like streaks of light, shot out. "Your magic last night was merely borrowed from the power of this elven sword!"

"This sword embodies the blessings of the Elf God Corellon. I don't know which foolish pointy-eared person insisted on adding a bunch of restrictions, but it's a good thing. Only when you meet their rules can you possess the power of this sword!"

“Little girl, do you shout ‘Oh, I want to praise Coreron’ every time you finish using it? That’s disgusting.”

"Annie!"

Daisy raised her mattress in an attempt to help Angelita block the barrage of attacks. The witch's spells appeared no different from ordinary spellcasters' magical missiles—just the most basic first-level spells—but they contained traps that could easily be caught off guard.

Before the poet could fully unleash his magic, Angelita stepped forward and charged toward the witch.

"People say that the witch knows many strange things, and today I understand. You're right, but not entirely—the sword is the shield!"

None of the vows inscribed on the epic poem lit up, even though the current battle might conform to some of them. But this did not stop Angelita from casting her spell. In an instant, the longsword in her hand transformed into a shield. When the insidious "magic missile" struck it, it was as if it had hit an invisible magical field, and it was completely annihilated in the collision of magical power!

"A shield spell!" The hag recognized it immediately. "But how did you use it?!"

"Of course it's because of myself!" As the last magic missile vanished, Angelita charged forward again, and with a swing of her shield, it transformed back into a sword. Unexpectedly, raging flames burst forth on the blade, instantly engulfing a large cone-shaped space in front of the girl!

Aston is with me!

"Divine magic?" When the witch escaped the flames that felt like demonic claws, nothing shocked her more than hearing the name of the god of light and fire. "No! That's not right, you're not his follower!"

“Of course I am,” Angrita, her face ashen as a dark cloud beneath the extinguished flames, trembled slightly on her sword. A chilling, winter-like magic instantly replaced the heat, clinging to the resilient blade. “Now, let us pray to Angola!”

"No matter how much you talk, you're just a pretty face!" A smug look flashed across the Night Demon Granny's face. "Grandma won't be scared by you. Shield and Burning Hand, you've already used up all your spells!"

The enormous, bizarre claws and the elven longsword created a breathtaking symphony. As one of the most unpredictable creatures in the world, the witch was able to subtly overpower Angrita with her physical strength and martial arts alone. Just as the situation stabilized slightly, the monster suddenly took a deep breath, and with her free claws slapping her shriveled chest, she leaned her whole body backward.

not good!

Angelita's pupils constricted sharply; such an obvious casting gesture could only mean—

"call--!"

Angelita's reaction was too late. The witch's gaping maw spewed out a cloud of murky mist, instantly igniting everything around her!

It's a breath attack, or more accurately, a dragon's breath technique!

"Let me show you what it's like to be burned alive! Heh—" The old hag laughed triumphantly, but before her tumultuous laughter could even round the first corner, a dark figure, a full circle or even two circles larger than Angelita, appeared in the smoke after her breath.

And the greatsword that emerged from the smoke forced the old hag to swallow the rest of her laughter, along with herself, into the ethereal noodles!

“Attack before they use all their tricks, Anne,” the heavy greatsword shattered the earth and rocks where it landed, and Raslaufer raised his right hand to sweep away the dust in front of him as if tearing it to shreds. “I told you that when we first met, but I’m afraid you haven’t learned it.”

"You need to use force to show your intimidation, but you should also unleash that force on your enemies—unless they can hide in another world or are well prepared in advance."

Opportunities to engage in close combat with a spellcaster are rare, and opportunities to counter with spells are even rarer. However, this time, Angelita wasted her chance.

“She didn’t leave,” Bella bent down and touched the corrupted ground with her fingers. “She ran further in; she must have tampered with something in the Society.”

Based on their previous assumptions, the witch's original lair could not have been here.

"You actually have a druid?" Granny Nightingale's voice rang out again, but this time, she was nowhere to be seen. "What she said makes sense, but don't chase after us, lest you regret it!"

"And I also anticipated the possibility that you might disobey me—little lambs, eat these invading wolves!"

"Cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck"

The stiff limbs began to move again at the witch's command, accompanied by ominous whispers from those broken bellows-like throats of those who could not find peace. The dead mentor picked up the shattered jeweled staff, and the old man who drove away wolves embraced the neck of his animal companion.

Even the little girl in the corner picked up her reindeer antler headdress and wobbled toward them.

And further away, there are probably even more.

“…Despicable!” Bella plucked the oak stick, and with a chant of incantation, flames erupted from both ends. “Black Claw, stay here and accompany me to their final rest. You all go and defeat that bastard!”

“We’ll stay here too!” Rosso drew his bow and shot, accurately striking the druid instructor, who was unsure if he could still cast a spell, causing him to stumble. However, that was all the druid could do.

While the spotted cat-man was still in a daze, the druid, who was now an undead creature, with an arrowhead still swaying between her eyebrows, began her indistinct chanting.

With a muffled thud, Bella's lithe figure somersaulted backward two and a half times in mid-air before landing steadily on the ground. At the same time, the enemy's staff fell to the ground, his empty hands searching in vain on the ground, not only looking for her magic weapon, but also for the head she used to chant.

Chapter 286 The Little Devil's Revenge

"Damn it, how did I get involved with these people? They're a jinx! A plague!"

The druid society had been corrupted and transformed beyond recognition by Granny Nightingale, and was now filled with traps, both visible and hidden, and undead creatures just like those outside. She was certain that this would buy her enough time to prepare.

Even while constantly rambling on and on.

"Oh, my dear master, Mother-in-law, what's troubling you so much?" While the old hag was in a state of turmoil, another voice that she used to enjoy so much now rang out in a sly tone, "Is there trouble with the plan? Have enemies come knocking on your door? Don't worry, you can completely trust the loyal Barbasabalon!"

"Tell me so I can have a good laugh too?"

"Shut your beak, you little thing, or I'll resurrect you as the lowest of the low infernal demons in purgatory!" The witch bared her teeth, and the little devil was so frightened that it tumbled over, afraid that she would eat it.

"Why did she have to run into that little girl who ran away from the empire! And somehow she's become so strong, it's ridiculous!"

"Absurd, oh too (purgatory profanity) absurd, my evil master! This place is a hundred and eight thousand miles away from the Empire, how can you be so sure she is the person you're talking about?"

"The most famous human family in the world that worships multiple gods is the Matt family. Richard made a deal with the gods back then, using the entire western part of the continent (Inasas)!" The old hag sneered, grabbing four bottles and jars from a half-collapsed cabinet and putting them on her body. "And what that little girl is holding is 'that' elven sword!"

"That one? Which one?" The little devil gripped the cage bars, struggling to peek out half his head. "If you don't tell me which one it is, how am I supposed to know which one it is..."

"Shut up!" the hag roared. "It's that sword of the Elven King of Destiny, the Long Poem of Guardian Spirit!"

"The elves of Corazonde gave the Elven King this sword, and the elves in the west, separated by the Goringoto Mountains, followed him. He brought prosperity to the elves of Corazonde until the end of his life."

"I know that sword changed hands several times, and only one of its original two attributes remained. But I never expected to see that sword with my own eyes today, and its behavior is completely different from the rumors!" The old hag roared in frustration, smashing a medicine jar with her claws. The foul-smelling, thick liquid inside spilled all over the ground, and when it came into contact with the druid corpses, it made them tremble and move.

“So even you have things you can’t expect. I thought you had everything under control,” Barbasabalon scoffed. “Too bad, you lowly little sparrow in a cage have neither wings to gather information nor a venomous stinger to ambush and kill.”

"Nine Hells, who could have done such a beastly thing? Where have they all gone? Can you help me find them? I can't find them..."

"Stop your nonsense and listen. I need you to do things for me, small things that you can do without wings or tails. But after it's done, I can give them to you."

The Night Witch then found two more transparent jars. One of them contained a pair of brand-new membranous wings that matched Barbasabalon's size, while the other jar contained a tail, but without a tail root.

"I'm a reasonable person, understand?" The old woman tried her best to appear kind and approachable. "If you help me, I'll help you, okay?"

The little devil rolled his eyes, making no attempt to hide his disdain: "Oh—that's really unexpected."

"Go, or become a lesser demon!"

"Fine, fine, I'll go, okay?" Barbasabalon grumbled as he left the cage that the witch had personally built and opened. "Seriously, couldn't you have sent your red hats? Or summon some werewolves, ratmen, and gargoyles! You're taking advantage of me being a poor wretch without wings or a tail!"

The witch selectively ignored the discontent and simply told the little devil the mission he needed to complete: "Go open the door to that room, clear the way, and then activate that thing according to the driving method we found—the order must be correct, understand? Only in this way can we ensure that the thing is delivered to the intruder's face!"

"'The driving force we found'?" The little devil's eyes widened as it looked up at its master, as if it were the first time it had ever known evil existed. "That's something I found after countless hardships! I went through so much trouble, I—"

“You just happened to be there,” the old hag said, scoffing. “I, your mother-in-law, am the one who makes it work as usual.”

"Then why don't you dare activate it yourself?" "Just do as I say, why all the nonsense! How can you say I'm afraid when it's my business? I'm just being cautious..."

"Hey, fine! You're the 'piglet'!" As the tailless little devil wobbled to the doorway, he turned and made a face at the witch's retreating back. "Then you can continue being your ruler! I'm not playing with you anymore! Never, ever!"

"Is this the end? This is it..." Barbasabalun muttered as it walked through the society. Although it wasn't convinced in its heart or words, its actions were at least somewhat honest. Following the old hag's instructions, it came to a room locked with dozens of twisted and rotten old roots. It first cleaned the surroundings, then opened the door, not daring to make the slightest mistake.

A massive black shadow, over three meters tall, stood directly in front of the little devil as the door opened. A dark golden luster flowed through mysterious patterns in the dim light. Its pure steel body and lack of detail in its face proved that it was a construct, or more precisely, a golem.