The witch thought I am a Demon God-Chapter 45 - The Abilities of a Second-Class Priest_1
Chapter 45: Chapter 45 The Abilities of a Second-Class Priest_1
Chapter 45 -45 The Abilities of a Second-Class Priest_1
“This is the first time someone’s called my racial talent, ‘Skin Changing Technique’, a self-inflicted trap.”
“But I can’t say you’re overconfident. You are indeed impressive, a great actor. However, you overlooked a key issue: the gap between your power and mine.”
Evading Ivita’s attacks Baron Moro noticed something seriously wrong with his swordsmanship.
At first, he was wondering what style Ivita’s swordsmanship was.
Since Ivita claimed he was from Alsace, Baron Moro compared Ivita’s swordplay with the famous swordsmanship styles of Alsace he remembered.
He initially thought Ivita’s disorganized swordsmanship belonged to a specific style, even suspecting that it was an assassin’s style.
Although most assassins were from the Small Brotherhood of Trustworthiness, there were also some minor, relatively unknown assassin groups with sparse membership.
In the south across the sea and within its desert, another infamous group of assassins known as the Assassin Cult Ritual Group existed.
Unable to identify the style, this veteran Son of Forest became more apprehensive with each attack, hence he continuously evaded.
Soon enough, he realized from Ivita’s repetitive movements that the boy had no swordsmanship skills at all.
And because he didn’t know swordsmanship, he couldn’t identify any distinct pattern in it.
He had overestimated this boy due to his adaptability.
An angry Forest’s Son, feeling manipulated yet again, thrust his knight sword at Ivita’s left eye, saying “Your swordsmanship is terrible! A good plan needs competent execution!”
Just then, Ivita’s left hand gripped a ring and rotated it twice, a black light flashed from the ring.
He began to recite a spell.
Yes, I had no intention of relying on my abysmal swordsmanship to defeat you.
But sometimes, your weaknesses can be turned into strengths.
No one can excel at everything.
An excellent person tends to use his weaknesses to his advantage, turning them into his strengths.
Ivita was well aware of how bad his swordsmanship was.
But it didn’t matter.
What he wanted was for his opponent to let down their guard upon seeing his lack of swordsmanship, because he never intended to win with swordplay. He still had one more spell to use.
The Triple Ring Damage Curse!
A blade-like black light tore through Baron Moro’s chest, cutting his clothes and skin, revealing his true form underneath.
The Baron looked down in delayed comprehension “A wizard! You’re so young!”
The next moment, he was flung away by the blade-like black light, crashing into a wall.
When he stood up again, the skin he had worn like a cloak had rotted away.
Emerald blood flowed from his body, clearly not the color of human blood.
A creature whose skin looked like bark stood up. A skin-like cloth was draped over its shoulder, its human-like face vaguely recognizable as Baron Moro. The head on its neck, however, had the face of a completely unfamiliar treant.
All the human knights present gasped.
“A monster! That’s not the Baron, where is our Baron!”
“The castle’s been invaded! That’s why Lord Branton was trying to assassinate the Baron! Be on guard, prepare for battle!”
Someone got up in a hurry, knocking over a table by accident. A wine jug on the table fell and shattered on the ground, its contents spilling everywhere. The clear liquid rapidly turned into a grey-black viscous liquid once it hit the ground.
The knights cried out in shock.
“There’s something wrong with the wine they tried to make us drink! Did anyone drink it?”
“I… I…”
“I didn’t drink just now…”
It was then that everyone realized that they had been unwittingly poisoned.
Many people only discovered the terrifying truth at this moment.
After they drank the first suspicious drink, they were compelled to continue drinking the second cup, the third cup, as if addicted.
Unless their eyes could not see these drinks, they would instinctively drink them.
And if they resisted this instinct, they would feel as uncomfortable as if their entire body was being bitten by ants.
Because everyone was busy drinking and having fun before, this went unnoticed.
Only when they stopped drinking did they realize something was wrong, but by then it was too late.
The leader of the Son of Forest pressed a hand to his chest wound and regretfully glanced at the ruined Baron Moro skin on his body, tearing it off and discarding it on the ground. “I thought I could use it for a long time.”
“The plan failed, how am I going to explain this to the Forest Ancient Souls! We’ve been exposed!”
“Our tracks mustn’t be revealed!”
“We can only kill everyone here!”
Since the leader had exposed himself, the guards in the hall also stopped pretending and began to attack the humans around them.
The entire hall immediately descended into chaos.
One knight, while decapitating a treant, also knocked the pile of tinder from the fireplace in the hall. Sparks flew out like a shower of stars.
In no time at all, the carpets and furniture in the living room were aflame.
Meanwhile, the human knights in battle, having cut open the skin of their opponents, discovered that these creatures posing as human guards were all humanoid beasts with skin like tree bark.
The entire hall had become a stage of fire and sword, witchcraft, and alien races.
At this moment, Ivita suddenly remembered the prophecy of the Duke of the Forest — wasn’t it said that the era of peace had passed and now was the age of the sword and fire?
The treant leader approached Ivita, one hand covering his chest, the other picking up a Knight’s Sword from the fire which someone had dropped.
He pointed the sword at Ivita. “Humans, contemptible. Why do all good things always end up in the hands of your kind?”
“A brat your size, in an utterly disadvantaged situation in terms of strength and stature, managed to foil our plan.”
“Thousands of years ago, such people easily emerged among you humans. Thousands of years later, is history to repeat itself?”
“Are we, the sons of the forest, destined to fail?”
“Why are you humans the correct path of evolution, while we are deemed as the failed path?”
Meanwhile on the other side, the maid who was battling the old witch ripped off her human skin, revealing a skin that looked like tree bark.
She was extremely irritated. “Ji, you must take full responsibility for this failure!”
She took out some white powder from her body, squatted halfway to the ground, and quickly drew a triangular pattern with the white powder. Then, suddenly she bit into her wrist, dripping her blood onto the triangular pattern.
Instantly, the center of the triangular pattern seemed to sink, creating a pit on the originally flat ground.
The emerald-green blood that fell into this pit evaporated into a rising plume of green smoke.
The woman then threw her head back and sang a hymn in an inhuman language, commonly used in religious rituals.
This hymn, formed by this strange language, was extremely unusual. It was as if tanks were marching forward, each word standing out on its own; rigid, primitive, coarse, yet with a raw and violent beauty.
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Moreover, the melody was eerily dissonant and unsettling to hear.
The old witch’s face changed. “Stop her quickly.”
“She is a formal priestess of the ancient tree, a second-tier practitioner, typically a priest among these Sons of the Forest.”
“She is performing a ritual for the ancient tree.”
“Don’t let her complete this ancient spirit ritual.”
