The priestess tried to stand up, but the wound on her heel was clearly much worse than she had expected. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

She let out a curse in her heart, and then her left hand, which glowed softly, pressed against her bleeding foot.

Two of Ivan's healing spells have been used, and now there is only one quick healing left.

Then she staggered to her feet, but did not rush towards the half-elf on the other side.

Lancet held his sword in both hands, struggling to adjust his messy breathing. If I'm not mistaken, the waterfall-like light just now is the priest's trick: the waterfall. Not only does it deal a lot of damage on its own, but it also allows the caster to deal more damage to you each time it attacks.

His already numb fingers gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and the priestess's waterfall magic had almost exhausted Lancet's physical strength.

He stood there silently regaining his strength, always on the lookout for a possible surprise attack from Evan.

"It's time for it to end." The priestess said in a hoarse voice, and walked towards Leinster.

Her speed was getting faster and faster, and by the time she got to the witcher, she was already running.

Green flames lit up again on Lancet's longsword, and he clenched his weapon in both hands, having completely abandoned his defenses.

Lightning and thunder slammed into his face, and Lancet ducked as he swung his sword with both hands and swept towards Evan's waist.

The steel shield "clanged" to block Ranster's sword, and the priestess lifted the shield with all her strength, pushing him to a stumbling stumble.

Ivan certainly wouldn't miss such a good opportunity, and the mallet in her hand slammed into Lancet's leather armor chest, slashing his longsword with a steel shield as he fell backwards.

The magic sword fell to the ground with a crisp sound, and then slid away against the ground.

Ranster lay on the ground, his chest heaving violently, and he was close to being out of force.

The priestess's mace was on the tip of his nose, and he could even smell the smell of blood on it.

"It's over." Ivan gasped and said condescendingly, "Prepare to die." ”

"What if I say no?" Ranster grinned, he didn't even have the strength to laugh now.

The priestess let out a cold snort, and the hammer in her hand was already whizzing down on his head.

Undeterred by the sound of the wind, Lancet's left hand jerked up to reach Evan's lower abdomen.

He grinned again, for he saw fear in the way the priestess looked at him.

“Naur！”

As the incantation was pronounced, a powerful flame surged out from Lancet's left hand with the casting of the spell mark, and almost instantly, Even's whole person was directly wrapped in flames, and he let out an extremely terrible scream.

The flames lasted for more than a dozen seconds.

As the shock wave dissipated, the priestess slammed "all" herself to the floor, emitting a scorching smell.

Her upper body remained the same, except for her exposed skin and face, which had been charred.

As for her lower body...... There was nothing left but the tattered scale armor around his waist.

Lancet's flame spell burned the entire lower half of her body, leaving only a charred spine with a few leg bones from her abdomen down.

After doing all this, Ranster was completely paralyzed to the ground, he couldn't even move a finger now, and the after-effects of the arcane energy overdraft slowly began to kick in, and even with the level of pain tolerance of the witcher's body, he could feel the pain transmitted from his body to his brain.

He lay on the ground, his hands and feet twitching, enduring the intense pain of the arcane draining his body. It wasn't until ten minutes later that Lancet was relieved to get through the after-effects and regained a little strength.

With a slight wave of his hand, the long sword in the distance flew back into his master's hand under the summons of the contract. Ranster sat up against the ache in his body, and then he stuck his sword in the floor as a support, and then struggled to his feet.

"It's not time to rest yet." Lancet muttered to himself and walked towards the corpse of the priestess.

He walked over to Ivan's body and picked up a small brown cloth bag that had fallen to the side with his sword.

It must have been the shockwave that shook it from the priestess's waist to the ground, and it was only after it was burned to ashes by the flames.

Lancet picked up the cloth bag, and as he expected, the ordinary-looking brown cloth bag was a dimensional bag.

This dimensional bag can hold up to two hundred pounds or twenty cubic feet of items, while its weight remains at one pound forever.

Lancet opened the lid of the bag, revealing the contents one by one.

There weren't many things in the bag, and the casting materials alone took up nearly three-quarters of the space. Instead of touching the things, Lancet pulled out everything else he could use.

Several bottles of medical potions and a ritual book.

He opened a bottle of medical potion and poured it down, feeling his vitality rise little by little. Then he drank the rest of the potion one after another without hesitation, feeling that the place where he had been attacked by Ivan was recovering little by little, and his body was gradually returning to its best state.

After casually looking at the contents of the ritual book and finding nothing interesting, Lancet put it back in the dimensional bag, and then hung the bag around his waist.

He then walked over to the broken corpses of Raven Eddard and held them together with his hands.

A small summoning circle slowly emerged from beneath the fragments of Eddard's corpse, its corpse began to become transparent, and soon a new, living raven, Eddard reappeared in the circle.

As the glow of the summoning circle dissipated, the newborn Ed flew into the air and circled several times before landing on Ranster's shoulder.

"I didn't think I would come back to life." Ed sighed humanely.

"Have faith in your master." Randster patted it on the head and walked in the direction the mercenaries had come.

……

Dezik sat on a stone staircase in the ruined hall, his last brothers standing beside him. He glanced back at the female mage on horseback, and then felt a little reassured.

A bad premonition always hung in his heart. His own people have been down long enough, but no news has come from them.

He wanted to go down and see what was going on in person, but he wasn't too comfortable with the "gray squirrel" hiding next to the female mage.

If it weren't for the fact that the lord had specifically asked him to take the half-elf's head to him, the mage would have been where she was supposed to be, and she would have been paid her due, leaving the Hudr region and flying away.