Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 298: The Attack

===========In Yvette’s imagination, her journey across the Western Continent was supposed to be very quiet. She would become a solitary traveler, walking alone through this land choked with poisonous miasma and crawling with fiends, listening to the fine patter of acid rain on her umbrella, stopping and starting at her own pace, then, after a few twists and turns, finally reunite with her students.

She had not expected that the moment she left the starter town, a whole crowd would gather behind her. On the road there had been noise the entire way. She could not tell whether to call it annoying or lively.

Still, it was not a bad thing, she thought. After all, this trip was most likely going to end with her “attacking” Riftscar City. Once she took Riftscar City, she would have to take over the running of the place, at the very least establish a church outpost and train some priests. That was when Bobo and this group of followers could come in handy.

They had set out in the morning, and very soon the time had slipped toward noon. After rushing about for half a day in the pale yellow-brown haze, almost all her subordinates were a little tired. In a small clearing in the woods, Yvette announced a break, and everyone let out a sigh of relief.

When the lunch break ended and they were about to set out again, a beastfiend with bull horns, looking like a middle-aged man, came trotting over in a hurry and said anxiously, “Lady Witch, someone is missing!”

Yvette raised an eyebrow slightly at that and asked, “Who?”

The beastfiend said, “Vetch, a young bull-kin lad. He said he was going to take a leak, and then he vanished. We circled around where he went several times and couldn’t find any trace. We think he might have gone the wrong way…”

“What do you mean, went the wrong way?” Bobo, standing off to the side, let out a derisive snort. “I say he chickened out and didn’t dare go to Riftscar City with us, so he snuck off. Old York, if I remember right, Vetch is your nephew, yeah? You really can’t see that?”

“Vetch isn’t that spineless,” the beastfiend called Old York said unhappily. “I know him very well.”

“So what do you want then? You expect Lady Witch to stop just for your precious nephew and help you look for him?” Bobo said sharply.

“Well…” Old York hesitated. Visibility in the forest smothered by poisonous miasma was only twenty or thirty meters, and it was full of danger. Even a veteran like him did not dare linger, let alone stay behind alone to search. But what kind of existence was the Witch? Expecting her to stop for the sake of some beastfiend lad whose name she probably did not even know was unrealistic, and besides, this whole following-the-Witch thing had never been something she herself demanded.

Thinking of this, his mood gradually sank. He was just about to back off awkwardly when Yvette said, “Bobo, take a few people and search around where Vetch disappeared. If you don’t find anything in half an hour, assume he went back on his own and then catch up with us.”

Bobo immediately let out a surprised “Huh?” He had not expected Lady Witch to bother with something this minor. Old York, on the other hand, froze for a moment, then quickly said in gratitude, “Th-thank you so much, Lady Witch!”

Yvette gave a slight nod, then glanced at Bobo, whose expression was a bit unwilling even as he forced a smile. She thought for a moment, then suddenly pulled a dark red tactical knife out of thin air and tossed it to him. Once he caught it, still looking puzzled, Yvette said, “This is an alchemical weapon. The raised bit is the activation switch. It can stay in combat mode for an hour. If there’s danger, it should be enough for you to protect yourself.”

Bobo had never seen an alchemical blade with such a beautiful shape and naturally flowing patterns. In fact, he had barely seen any alchemical equipment at all. He immediately stroked the hilt and scabbard twice, unable to put it down. Only then did he finally remember to look up, pretending to be alarmed as he said, “Lady Witch, something this precious, you’re really letting me use it? Won’t my hands be desecrating it…”

“Return it when you’re done,” Yvette said.

It was actually just one of the mass-produced tactical knives from the factory on Ish Island, a very low-grade model. In the Land of Finality it could barely handle first- and second-tier baseline aberrants and was not even as good as the Alloy Blade she had once picked up on the island. But because the ambient mana here in the Mortal Realm was different, its power had ballooned. It was now enough to deal with fourth-tier fiends. Any random one of these knives was enough for a low-ranking demon to strut around the outskirts of Riftscar City like they owned the place.

Normally, these mass-produced items were all stored in a dedicated small god-machine pocket space, mainly as rewards for apostles to exchange for with Contribution Points. Sometimes, though, she would casually pull a few out from inside and hand them around.

Even if they were not worth much, she would not hand them out for nothing. To earn a reward, you had to have done something, and she still had to weigh how much that something was worth. Otherwise it would be too unfair to her other followers.

Hearing that he had to give it back, Bobo did not mind at all. Just getting to touch such an obviously exquisite alchemical weapon a couple of times was already a rare experience for him. He was more than satisfied.

After Yvette and Slippery Jim led the main group away, Bobo and Old York called over two more people and headed in the direction where Vetch had gone missing to begin their search.

The other two were a goblin called Ironhead and a boar-headed beastfiend called Red Shorts. Ironhead’s green head shone like something had polished it, while Red Shorts wore a faded pair of red cloth briefs. Those were the street names they had gone by back when they were running around Miremouth Town.

Although they had been assigned to search for someone, aside from Old York, the other three had their attention glued to the tactical knife that Lady Witch had lent Bobo. Every time Bobo pressed the switch and searing red light flared along the blade, Ironhead and Red Shorts would chime in with a long “Oooooh” of envy, and Bobo, guarded in the middle, felt very pleased with himself.

“Boss Bo, how much you think this knife would go for on the market?”

“At least a thousand silver crowns.”

“A thousand?!”

“We’d be rich…”

“Rich, my tail. What are you thinking?” Bobo glanced left and right, his dog face turning stern. “I’m warning you two, don’t get any funny ideas.”

To be honest, the figure of a thousand silver crowns had tempted him too. He had even entertained the idea of running off with the blade and fleeing to some distant place, but that thought remained just that, a thought. First, he had a few deadweights tagging along. If he really decided to bolt with the knife, who knew what kind of danger would crop up halfway. Second, Lady Witch’s powers were unfathomable. Who knew what tracking methods she had. For someone like Bobo, with the heart of a thief but no guts to match, he simply could not muster the courage.

He had to admit he was a good-for-nothing coward who clung to life. Even when a golden chance to get rich was right within reach, he didn’t dare risk everything for it. Bobo sighed to himself.

Amid their noisy chatter, the four of them arrived at the spot where Vetch had vanished. It was a quiet patch of forest, ringed by purple shrubs unique to the Western Continent. Their branches and leaves intertwined, casting hazy shadows in the pale yellow mist.

After wandering around for a while, Ironhead said, “There’s no trace of anything. How are we supposed to find him like this?”

Red Shorts patted his own chubby belly, suddenly had a flash of inspiration, and looked over at Bobo. “Boss Bo, aren’t you a dog? Can’t you sniff something out?”

“Sniff your ass,” Bobo said, but his nose was working seriously all the same. He paced around nearby, sniffing, then said, “Feels like it’s this way…”

He had not expected there to actually be a trail to follow. Old York’s spirits lifted, and he immediately charged ahead in that direction.

But after they had gone only three or four hundred meters, a hidden gleam of blade suddenly chopped down from above within the pale yellow mist and purple forest. If goblin Ironhead had not shouted a warning, and if Old York had not reacted fast enough to dodge to the side, his bull head would already have been rolling on the ground.

“Who’s there?!” Bobo said angrily, gripping the tactical knife’s hilt. Once Old York had pulled back a step to open some distance, the four of them saw their attacker clearly. It was a burly wolf beastfiend clad in armor, his fur glossy. Both his armor and cleaver had a crystalline sheen to them, clearly high-grade alchemical gear.

“Not bad reflexes,” the wolf beastfiend said in a playful tone.

“From Riftscar City?” Bobo asked warily. This wolf beastfiend’s presence was impressive and his gear was excellent, the very picture of a pampered expert. In this area, someone like that could basically only have come from Riftscar City.

The wolf beastfiend did not answer right away. Instead he blew a whistle, and a few seconds later, more figures emerged from the nearby mist, surrounding the four of them.

The atmosphere on the field instantly turned chilly. Facing enemies whose battle power was clearly much greater, Bobo forced down his nervousness and bluffed in a fierce tone, “I’d suggest you don’t be so quick to swing. Do you have any idea how strong Lady Witch is? Ironwall Wev couldn’t stand against her.”

“Ha ha ha!” At those words, the enemies all burst into laughter. The wolf beastfiend smiled and said, “Looks like you still haven’t figured out who we are.”

Bobo froze. “What… what do you mean? You’re not from Riftscar City?”

The wolf beastfiend said, “We are Lord Grus the Nightmare’s Demon Armor Corps. Ever heard of us, little country mutt?”

Grus… Demon Armor Corps… Hearing those names, the four of them went blank.

Nightmare Grus was one of Great Lord Helarit’s three trump warlords, rumored to have reached the eighth tier, a super powerhouse in every sense of the word.

And the Demon Armor Corps was the strongest unit in all of Helarit’s territory. The minimum requirement to enlist was being a second-tier demon. Even a squad leader had to be at least third-tier. Put bluntly, any random squad could have easily slaughtered the whole of Miremouth Town.

How could a legion with a reputation that terrifying show up in this godforsaken backwater between Riftscar City and Miremouth Town?

And what about Grus? If that “Nightmare” had personally come as well, then the Witch and all of them, these militia who had impulsively decided to follow her, were already as good as dead.