Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 488 - 268: War Settlement

Van Helsing—more precisely, Geralt under the name of Van Helsing—how strong is he really?

Naturally, quite impressive, as he is the North’s top swordsman, his skill among ordinary people is already at the pinnacle.

In the adapted storyline of the novel, the Quen and Yarden Magic Seals he commonly uses once captivated the children in the streets and alleys of Jerusalem, engrossed in these gestures every day.

Yet, he isn’t the strongest after all.

In the Demon Hunter series narrated by Losa and refined by Prajna, there are many characters or creatures stronger than Geralt, high-level dragons, advanced vampires—even Viggo Fortez, such a top-tier caster, a melee and magic dual master.

However, Anomaly Prajna’s ability is clearly not just simply summoning book characters to join the battle. If it were, summoning a Golden Dragon would obviously be more suitable than a demon hunter.

"That damn stoic face!"

Mudeliji’s expression was tense, his lips buzzed, and a vicious curse rapidly took shape—a curse specifically used against the undead because it targets the soul rather than the flesh and blood.

Ghostly green lightning shot forth.

The demon hunter clearly couldn’t dodge this near-light-speed curse and was hit solidly.

"I’ll just take your soul!"

The shimmering green light illuminated Mudeliji’s black face, and from the human bone necklace around his neck, the central infant’s skull abruptly opened its mouth wide, inhaling forcefully.

But what greeted him wasn’t a sweet, delectable soul.

It was rather the demon hunter’s Silver Blade filled with sinister killing intent.

The steel sword cuts down the wicked, the silver sword slays the evil!

The attack from the white-haired demon hunter grew heavier with each strike; Mudeliji, hastily raising his magic staff to block, already had his combat rhythm entirely disrupted. The opponent seemed to have a lot of experience fighting casters in close combat, each attack perfectly interrupting the spell he wanted to unleash.

"Get lost!"

Mudeliji had never fought such a frustrating battle, just a mere swordsman—even with some minor spells not suitable for public display—had driven him into such an embarrassing situation.

"Father, should we step in?"

Zahir took the javelin handed by the attendant beside him—the spearhead gleamed with golden light, clearly made of demon-blocking gold.

There was a hint of caution in his words, as if he wanted to compensate for his mistakes.

Saladin thought for a moment but shook his head.

They could intervene, indeed.

His most trusted one thousand Mamluk guards were all equipped with demon-blocking golden arrows and javelins, enough to incapacitate even the dragon of Master Shemir.

But how could others interfere when the two were now in close combat?

Showering arrows—are they aiding the white-haired swordsman with an undying body, or helping Mudeliji?

Mudeliji certainly wouldn’t want Saladin and his soldiers getting involved. No matter how fierce the white-haired demon hunter’s attacks were, he couldn’t ignore the difference in hard power. Soon he would adjust his casting rhythm, summoning a towering evil spirit at the cost of breaking a skull on his human bone necklace.

Though this evil spirit, upon manifesting, got decapitated by the demon hunter’s combat-honed swordsmanship—clearly not meant for human-shaped enemies—Mudeliji regained some combat rhythm and distanced himself from the demon hunter.

Clang—

The White Bone Spear was deflected by the Quen Rune enveloping the demon hunter. His golden cat eyes watched Mudeliji, feeling some regret for not always carrying a set of demon-blocking gold weapons.

The Silver Sword could cut down evil but couldn’t break the spells of the wizards.

Mudeliji continued to rapidly distance himself!

The demon hunter could clearly see that beneath this evil wizard stood a tall, robust black evil spirit.

"I need your assistance, my lady."

He silently said in his heart.

The next moment.

His body exploded into a cloud of mist, with elegant Latin-script forms concealed within. Once vanished, he immediately reappeared in Mudeliji’s path of retreat.

Right in the middle!

The demon hunter held his Silver Sword, appearing as if he jumped from a spatial rift, swinging forcefully at Mudeliji.

Mudeliji dodged quite embarrassingly this time. The magic staff in his hand, hit by the massive force transmitted from the Silver Sword, struck his chest, much weaker compared to the typical caster’s body, instantly making him feel overwhelmed.

Mudeliji hastily cast an "Evil Spirit Shock" to repel the demon hunter.

Spatial jumps, an undying body, the soulless...

This white-haired guy is too troublesome, isn’t he?

And that woman, she can still wield the power of time.

Mudeliji, upon realizing this, already felt an urge to retreat. The Holy Spear could save his life, which didn’t mean he had to sacrifice it here. After all, if the Holy Spear worked, perhaps the Cross Sect’s Holy Grail, Holy Shroud might work too.

Plus, the Ark of the Covenant—Mudeliji vaguely remembered hearing about this Cross Sect holy object being secretly kept in a Coptic rock church while serving the King of Ethiopia.

But just as he was hastily retreating, behind him, a golden light, seemingly more dazzling than the sun, flew swiftly towards him. Before it even approached, the skulls hanging from his neck emitted miserable wails.

He abruptly turned, and his eye sockets were instantly filled with the very target he had long coveted—the legendary Holy Spear.

Puff—

Entangled with Geralt for so long, Mudeliji turned to ashes in the instant the Holy Spear pierced through him. An evil aura-laden mark flew out of the ashes but swiftly turned to dust under the holy radiance.

Mudeliji’s guess was correct; indeed, the Holy Spear could suppress the Evil God’s Mark on his body.

But unfortunately, although the goal was achieved, he no longer needed to expel the mark.

The white-haired demon hunter, now without a target, calmly observed the otherworldly soldiers assembled around him, his gaze ultimately resting on Saladin before vanishing into invisibility.

Saladin’s eyes carried a hint of prior expectation but mostly fatigue. He slowly spoke, "Withdraw the troops, this war is over."

...

Losa was dug out by Jeanne.

When he came out, the dragon blood covering him had almost turned translucent, with all essence absorbed by Losa’s bloodline. The tips of attribute increase echoing in his ears could, in sum, equal another five level-ups.

Additionally, in the critical final moment, regaining the mobility of a single arm, he decapitated the sinister caster with one Holy Spear strike, leveling up five more times.

Now, even without Bloodfall augmentation, his close combat prowess could rival that of Hans and Venezia when not transformed, making it quite a gain.

However, the price was that Losa was now thoroughly immobilized.

The dual fatigue of mind and body made lying on the ground increasingly excruciating: "Hurry, don’t forget there’s still a caster on the dragon’s back, don’t let him escape, I don’t want this kind of character eyeing me."

Before Jeanne could speak, Prajna stepped forward.

"I’ve already checked, there’s no one. Otherwise, I would have taken care of it a moment ago."

Losa cautiously asked, probing a little, "Should I call you Prajna or Miss Xie now?"

He worried that his little Miss Prajna was gone for good.

Prajna’s face was slightly pale, a smile rising on her face, "Just as usual."

Losa, however, felt uneasy instead.