I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

Chapter 210 The Collapsed City Wall

Pain, suffocation—a gigantic, blood-red hand, obscuring the sky, descended. Count Duncan drew her sword to meet it, only to be easily knocked away. Her memory froze on the moment she drew her sword and unleashed a desperate strike. What followed was like a nightmare—

"cough……"

She didn't know how much time had passed. As consciousness gradually returned, the burning pain in her lungs became clearer. She struggled, trying to move her fingers, but her body felt like it was being held down by something, unable to move. She opened her eyes, but her vision was still blurry. She could vaguely make out a figure walking towards her. At first, she thought it was a hallucination, but soon after, she really heard a voice: "...Wake...wake up!"

The voice seemed somewhat familiar, but she struggled to remember who it was. A hand reached out and she grasped it with difficulty, her mouth agape: "Are...everyone...still alive?"

She didn't know if she had actually said those words. The things in her field of vision were so far away. The figure in front of her squatted down, so she repeated them again.

It sounded like someone was singing in her ears, a soft voice with an irresistible allure. From all directions, countless points of light were flying into the sky. She gripped the hand that was reaching out to her with all her might, feeling as if she were immersed in warm water. Gradually, she floated up with the points of light, flying higher and higher until she merged into that endless, dazzling light...

……

Guinevere let out a silent breath, squatted down, and gently closed her lifeless eyes with her hands.

The crimson clouds in the sky transformed into stars, then turned a pale, fish-belly white. Sunlight poured down, a gentle breeze swept through, and the air was thick with the suffocating stench of blood.

A fleeting, dark claw-like shadow flashed across her arm. Her suddenly increased strength allowed her to easily lift the boulder that was pinning her down and toss it aside. With a deafening roar and a cloud of dust, the girl carefully lifted the female knight, whose body was a bloody mess, and turned to walk away.

Pigeon Neof followed beside her: "You know her?"

"Baron Skye. A very serious and hardworking person... I was once invited to her territory for a few days, and incidentally, I drove away a pack of wolves that were attacking the village."

She spoke softly, a faint golden light appearing in her pupils, but she immediately regained her senses, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just quietly shook her head.

A glance around revealed only ruins. Anyone unaware of the situation would never recognize this place as the famous Antony's Wall—once built by the powerful Roman Empire and repaired at great expense by successive Scottish monarchs, this wall that had kept northern enemies at bay for centuries was now reduced to rubble.

The site of what was once the main fortress had completely collapsed, along with a section of the adjacent city wall. Debris littered the area, and it was impossible to know how many people had perished there. Guinevere leaped over several uneven gaps in the wall and landed at the foot of the wall in a relatively intact clearing. Twenty or thirty corpses lay on the ground. Leodogran stood with his back to her, facing south, his figure appearing desolate and lonely.

Seemingly hearing footsteps, he turned around, his gaze falling on the person in his daughter's arms. He then flinched slightly, clearly recognizing the person's identity: "Baron Skye... what a pity."

Guinevere gently put the person down and turned to walk to her father's side.

"Are there any others?" Upon asking this question and seeing his daughter's expression, Leodogland understood immediately, and his hands clenched tightly: "Damn it..." At this moment, most of the Scottish army should be stationed here, and it has only been a little over half a month since he disappeared. Even if they had their own agendas, those lords would not have broken up so quickly.

However, now that the Antony Wall has been breached, only a few corpses remain here—Perinoa is still searching for possible survivors in other directions, but it is likely to yield the same result—Leodogran is certainly not naive enough to believe that most people have survived.

He could perfectly imagine what had happened in this place not long ago.

“Pat, Klark, and Duncan aren’t here. If they’ve escaped with their lives, that’s fine…” Without needing to continue, the girl understood Leodogran’s meaning, and her expression darkened slightly.

“But there’s no point in thinking about that now. What I’m more concerned about is why these twenty-odd people weren’t ‘resurrected’ but are still here. What do they have in common?” Leodogran changed the subject, looking at the dead bodies in the open space, frowning and deep in thought.

Guinevere also looked over one by one. Among the dead were ordinary soldiers and nobles who were obviously living a life of luxury. Among them were several faces that the girls recognized, including Baron Skye, all of whom were outstanding young people in the kingdom.

However, these people came from very different backgrounds, and if there was anything in common that enabled them to resist the death power of Neman, for the time being, they had no clue.

"A devout believer..." Before she could finish speaking, the girl dismissed the idea herself. As far as she knew, Baron Skye was the kind of "general believer" who got along quite well with her and would bow to every god he saw, and had nothing to do with the word "devout" at all.

But if that's not the case, what could be the reason?

"Ms. Neoph, what are your thoughts?" Leod Grant asked the white dove first, while she was deep in thought.

"We don't have any clues yet."

"Nioph answered. Back in the forest, she had already briefly explained her identity to Leodogran without hiding anything—since Leodogran had remained conscious, it meant he had already seen Musashi, Guinevere, and the Picts acting together, so there was no need to lie to him anymore."

As Neover had predicted, after listening to her explanation, the King of Scotland only pondered for a moment before readily agreeing to the proposal to cooperate with their arch-enemy, the Picts.

"Now we have a common enemy, and my people are being slaughtered. Whether to put aside past grievances or not, let's wait until all this is over before making a decision."

"We have no objection to this."

With only a little over three hundred members of the Pickett clan remaining, they posed no further threat to the North. Considering this, it was only natural that Leodogran would agree to cooperate. Having reached an agreement, the three men and the pigeon hurriedly left the forest to check on the condition of the Antony Wall. By the time they arrived, the battle was over, leaving only devastation and the wall's remains, its destruction seemingly undetectable.

According to Niove's description, she saw the monster that had defeated the Scottish garrison for only a moment in Dirnano through runic magic—a "giant" that was fifteen or sixteen meters tall and made up of countless flowing flesh and blood.

She only glanced at it from afar through the water mirror, but the powerful force that followed rendered her runic spells ineffective on the spot, and even her physical body was affected. Fortunately, the sacred ground intervened, and she was not seriously harmed.

It is said that even the full-force attack unleashed by Klark using the Druid's barrier was easily blocked by the giant. Faced with such a powerful monster, no matter how many ordinary people there were, they would be of little use. Moreover, Scotland's top fighting force consisted only of the Earl of Duncan and Klark. The fall of the Wall was therefore inevitable.

The question is, if all of this was caused by that flesh giant, where is it now?

With a massive body nearly twenty meters tall, even from a distance, one should be able to make out its general outline. But even with Neof's magic and Guinevere's wind mark, after searching for a long time, the flesh giant could not be found within a radius of a hundred miles, as if it had vanished into thin air.

Only scattered groups of corpses, seemingly wandering aimlessly, were found in the south. There were as many as several hundred, and as few as several dozen. Since the search was conducted using wind power, Guinevere did not know whether these were those that had come out of the forest or those of Antony's garrison that had been "converted".

Regardless of which one, they are all targets they intend to eliminate next.

"It's not far from here to York. If there are any survivors, they will probably go there to ask the Archbishop for help... It is only at times like this that I am grateful that the Archbishop of York is that old-fashioned man. With him in charge, the safety of York should be no concern."

Seemingly recalling some past memories, Leodogland couldn't help but give a wry smile.

As one of the two archbishops of Britain appointed by the Pope, Archbishop York, who was in charge of northern affairs, was known for his upright and strict character, unlike Archbishop Canterbury, who was usually like an easy-going old man. He had many conflicts with Scotland, which was actively recruiting Druids. He had often pointed his finger at the other side and cursed each other, and even drew his sword a few times. But it was precisely because of this that he understood the other archbishop's abilities even more.

In this time of crisis, having such a person around is truly reassuring.

"So, are we going to York later?" the girl asked.

Leod Gran nodded: "Go check if Duncan and the others are there... but the most important thing right now is to stop those wandering hordes of corpses. Fenna, are those dead heading towards Frostwood Village?"

“Yes. They are moving very slowly, about—” The girl looked at the sky: “Even the closest horde of the dead to that village won’t arrive until the afternoon.”

"We still have some time. Let's bury these unfortunate victims first..."

"Wait a minute."

Pigeon Neover suddenly interrupted Leodogran: "It seems the old man has discovered something and wants you to go check it out, coo."

As the three split up to investigate, it also dispatched two additional avatars to maintain communication. At this moment, Perinoa, having apparently witnessed something, exchanged a puzzled glance with her father.

To prevent any unforeseen circumstances, Guinevere left the pigeon Neof there to observe the condition of the corpses—although everything seemed normal now, there was no guarantee they wouldn't suddenly "wake up" later—while she and Leodogran went to find Perinoa. Soon after, they saw an old man squatting in front of a broken city wall, scratching his beard, deep in thought.

"Come and take a look." Seeing the two approaching, he quickly waved and shouted.

Upon getting closer, the girl immediately noticed the unique marks on the city wall.

"This is……"

She took a few steps closer, looking at the sword mark that had almost split the entire city wall in two. She reached out and touched the charred edge—the spot she touched immediately shattered, turning into dust.

Guinevere understood that this was the mark left by condensing pure magic and unleashing a slash.

She had seen Gawain wield the Sword of Victory more than once and was extremely familiar with the marks it bore. But Gawain was far away in Orkney, and the other two swords of the same origin were also not in the North. Who could have caused these sword marks? Enemy or friend?

Just as she was feeling puzzled, the dragon power within her, which had been calmed down, suddenly became active again. The girl's mind sharpened, and she was about to suppress it when she heard a voice ring out in her mind—it was neither Krauss's voice nor Fafnir's deep whistle. She had clearly never heard it before, yet it felt strangely familiar, as if she had been in contact with it all the time.

"Your nemesis..."

"My nemesis..."

Only one voice could be heard, yet it seemed as if two different words were overlapping each other.

Guinevere finally realized whose voice it was, and her expression changed.

She gazed at the sword marks on the city wall, the dark gold in her eyes having completely replaced the original emerald green. Her ten fingers clenched lightly, and the half-human, half-dragon figure she once was, like a phantom shadow, appeared behind the girl.

The two people beside him were completely unaware of this.

Only the pigeon, Neover, turned her head in surprise.

In her mind, the voice grew louder: "This is the holy sword that slays the sinful dragon, this is the demonic sword that slaughters us all, your nemesis, my nemesis, he has returned—"

Upon closer listening, the voice was exactly the same as her own!

P.S.: Updated! Remember to vote! —Oh! —Oh!

And finally, this book reached 10,000 favorites! Thank you all for your support—although theoretically I should be adding more chapters, I've been having some writer's block lately and really don't have the energy. I'll add more chapters when I'm writing more smoothly. That's all~ Goodnight everyone~

Chapter 211 "Time Bomb"

The morning light streamed into the room, the stench of blood mingling with the fragrance of herbs, settling overnight to create a strange, indescribable aura. The door slowly opened, letting in a breeze. The figure on the bed, wrapped in bandages, seemed to turn over, muttering meaningless murmurs before falling silent again.

Only after he stopped speaking did a small figure peek out from behind the door, carrying a basin of water with some difficulty. The water was still steaming, obviously having been boiled over a fire. After putting down the basin, the figure went out again and returned with a cloth and some crushed herbs, and began to carefully change the dressing on the person in bed.

Unwrapping the blood-stained bandage revealed a horrifying wound, so much so that the white bone was visible. Even though she had tried her best to be gentle, she still heard a few muffled groans during the dressing change. Holding the corner of the cloth, she anxiously observed the other person's expression until she was sure they hadn't woken up, before continuing to clean the wound and apply new medicine.

Half an hour passed, and the door closed gently again. She took the basin of water and went to the back of the house to empty it, then set the soiled bandages on fire. The smoke curled and the firelight flickered, reflecting on her slightly flushed face, which added a touch of brightness to her appearance.

This was a little girl of about thirteen or fourteen years old. She was thin, with dark brown hair tied in braids. She wasn't very pretty, and her clothes were worn out. She had rough skin and was just an ordinary village girl you could see anywhere. The only thing that stood out was her bright, sparkling eyes.

She crouched down, looking at the bandages in the flames, and thought of the unconscious young man inside the house… He was truly the most handsome person she had ever seen. His golden hair was like the sunset, incomparable to the dirty men in the village. Although she longed to touch him—it must feel amazing—she couldn't muster the courage. Now, crouching on the ground, she cupped her face in her hands, staring blankly for a while, then sighed.

The thunder from the north had stopped. At the height of the thunder, she was gathering herbs in the forest near the village. After climbing to the top of a tree, she thought she saw a terrifying red giant in the distance, but it vanished in an instant. She secretly told the elder about it, but was told it was just her imagination… The elder was the wisest man in the village; if he said so, perhaps she really had been mistaken.

But the atmosphere in the village seemed to be getting more and more tense every day. The adults in the village had been talking about things in the north these past few days. It seemed that those great knights were fighting against some enemy, and the situation didn't seem to be looking good. Even the king had gone missing... These rumors had spread from who knows where, and it wasn't just Frostwood Village. Several surrounding villages were also said to be discussing similar things.

After the strange thunder and lightning last night, the elder sent several of his most capable hunters to the north to investigate. They returned just before dawn with a man covered in wounds. She didn't know what they had seen, but their expressions were terrifyingly serious; she didn't dare approach them. Shortly after their return, the elder summoned all the men in the village for a closed-door meeting, and they haven't emerged yet… Ultimately, it wasn't her business.

The flames in front of us slowly died down.

The girl stood up, ready to prepare lunch for herself and her family.

Her father, the village's only herbalist—though he'd only learned a little bit, enough to treat minor ailments—was killed by wolves earlier this year. Afterward, she took over, preparing herbal remedies for the villagers. She worked cautiously for six months, and the doubts around her finally subsided. When the wounded man was brought back, he was put in her care. The girl was very happy about this.

She remembered her father saying that the dressing needed to be changed twice a day. Now that it had been changed, she only needed to change it again when the sun went down at night. If the other person woke up and asked her questions, how should she answer...? She felt she should practice beforehand so that she wouldn't be flustered and speechless at the last minute. But after standing there thinking for a long time, she couldn't come up with anything useful. Instead, her face started to feel hotter and hotter.

She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks flushed red, like a freshly baked apple.

Also at this time.

The girl keenly heard a sound coming from the room next door. She paused, spun around in a panic a few times, then suddenly ran over like lightning. She turned back, frantically extinguishing the remaining embers, burning her fingers in the process. She put them in her mouth, whimpering, stomped her feet, and ran back to the room.

He woke up...

How should I greet them, and what should I say...?

These jumbled thoughts swirled in her mind, making the girl feel a little dizzy, but all of this came to an abrupt halt the moment her hand touched the wooden door.

A twilight-colored light suddenly shone in the room bathed in morning light—

……

"The sword energy came from inside the house, like this—sweeping out horizontally."

The small house, now only half-finished, was bathed in unobstructed sunlight. The shattered furniture and large splatters of blood on the walls and floor were a glaring red.

Leodogran tapped his knuckles on the hilt of his sword, standing in the center of the room. He made a half-move with his arm: "In this way, the magic power condensed into a sword aura... roughly in a semi-circular shape, which swept out and directly cleaved the wall and door in front of us, as well as someone who was about to push the door open and fly away... That's why there are these bloodstains."

"Then the sword energy continued forward, smashing two more houses. Someone noticed and rushed over, and a fight broke out here..." He walked out step by step, speaking his guesses in a low voice, trying to deduce the battle that had broken out here not long ago.

An old man, a young boy, and a pigeon followed beside them, occasionally offering a comment or two to add to the discussion.

In an effort to stop the horde of zombies from attacking the village, they burned the bodies of Baron Skye and the others before rushing over. However, upon arrival, they found Frostwood Village in ruins, with houses destroyed and the village in complete disarray.

The only saving grace—and this may sound strange—was that when the girl found the dead villagers among the broken houses, she felt a sense of relief.

At least they didn't "come back to life".

But who would do such a thing to an ordinary village? The one who could unleash such a large-scale sword aura was clearly not an ordinary Shadow Spirit that a few trained soldiers could fight against. Moreover, the traces left around here were extremely similar to the sword marks left on the city wall, which could almost certainly be confirmed as being left by the same person.

"This is the holy sword used to slay the sinful dragon..."

"This is a demonic sword that slaughters us all..."

That voice, identical to her own yet filled with madness, rang in her ears again, piercing and sharp, like a needle stabbing into her eardrums. Guinevere frowned, but before she could react, a burst of light suddenly erupted in her consciousness, overwhelming everything, accompanied by a scream: "Bastard!"

“You stinking lizard, you have displeased my lord.”

Following that beam of light came Clausolas's indifferent voice.

"It's not like I'm trying to be helpful by reminding you!"

Just as the phantom of the half-dragon, half-human girl was about to emerge, another beam of light shattered the illusion into pieces.

This time, it seemed the opponent had finally been hurt, as it didn't reappear after a while. The girl suppressed the urge to sigh. Heaven knows why this evil dragon power kept causing trouble every few days. It was bad enough that it turned into armor she couldn't take off before, but now it had turned into her former half-dragon self, chattering incessantly in her ear, repeating the same few phrases over and over, like a cheap, broken-down tape recorder…

Fortunately, the Sword of Light is still there.

As if sensing her thoughts, the divine sword in its sheath trembled. Although it did not speak, Guinevere could feel the slight excitement in it.

On the other side, the dragon's power, carrying a heavy, almost curse-like resentment, was curled up inside her, motionless and more docile than ever before...

The girl didn't know whether the new voice was Fafnir himself or something else, but she already had enough odds and ends on her body, and seeing that the Sword of Light seemed to be able to suppress it, she wasn't too anxious.

On the contrary, it was the "arch-enemy" mentioned repeatedly by the voice that made her more concerned. It was easy to guess who Fafnir called his arch-enemy—it was most likely the protagonist of The Song of the Nibelungs, the dragon-slaying hero Siegfried.

One of her current trump cards is the indestructible Dragon Armor, which could even be considered her most important asset.

If even this legendary hero is summoned by Neman, then as a spirit, he is very likely to have the ability to counter this armor.

That would make things even more complicated...

“...However, there is one strange thing.” Perinoa spoke in a deep voice, pulling the girl’s thoughts back to reality.