Charles’s smile faded, and he let out a sigh. "There’s nothing to be done, Anno. Human strength has its limits."
"The Great Old Ones have awakened, the Abyssal Lords are launching full-scale assaults—this disaster is something the entire world should be joining together to resist."
"Now that Liberl Port stands alone, of course it’s overwhelming."
Anno’s expression remained troubled. She had sworn the Oath of Vengeance as a paladin, but now, faced with the greatest evil—demons—her own organization was powerless. Every time she thought of it, a huge sense of frustration weighed on her heart.
"But, you don’t need to be too anxious," Charles suddenly said. "I’ve heard that some major conglomerates, like the Golden Dragon Bank, have sponsored some incredibly powerful adventurers to fight Montport."
"Maybe before long, we’ll hear the good news of Montport being banished."
Anno’s expression changed. "Did the blue dragons tell you that?"
Charles nodded slightly. "Partly, but they didn’t go into detail."
The blue dragons hadn’t actually mentioned any of this—he was simply speculating based on game experience and the patterns of the gold dragonborns. For more chapters visıt novel·fire.net
The gold dragonborns love nothing more than maintaining order and spreading their ideals of freedom in regions abundant in mineral wealth. The Roof Ridge Plateau, rich with treasures, would definitely draw their attention.
Anno’s expression finally eased a bit, though she still seemed dissatisfied. "But all this should be the responsibility of Blackstaff Tower..."
Charles sighed, thinking this girl’s sense of duty might be a little too heavy.
"Let’s not talk about that. These people you brought..." He tactfully changed the subject, glancing around. "They’re all warriors?"
Anno composed herself and nodded gently: "All are warriors."
"Of course." At this, the paladin girl’s face showed a trace of pride. "I personally selected promising candidates—everyone is at least second level, and some have already passed the third-level trial. Very promising!"
As she spoke, a faint smile touched the corners of her lips. She glanced at the nuns and added, "Before joining Blackstaff Tower, all received specialized training in protecting others, so they can all serve as proper guardians on this mission."
Hearing this, Charles felt his blood pressure spike.
"No, hang on—" His face twisted in agony. "You really know how to pick them..."
How could it end up !
The warrior class really is rather plain—even more so than the barbarian, in some ways.
A warrior’s special abilities and tricks are few.
Their main distinction is that they’re the only class in the whole game whose attack speed increases steadily with level, and "Action Surge" lets them double their speed for a moment—an absolutely potent class feature.
Aside from that, their skills mostly just boost attributes, grant emergency healing, or offer resistance to control effects—mostly for survival.
So what’s the best use for such a class?
Naturally, as the main damage dealer!
Pick up greatswords and longbows—deal as much damage as possible!
What’s with the shield, then?
Focusing on protecting others?
The best way to protect your teammates is to slay the enemies!
Charles’s expression was deeply distorted—the same feeling as watching a whole team of DPS build tanky gear. He had a thousand words stuck in his throat, but settled for a sigh: "Well, this way our lines end up even more solid. At least security is guaranteed."
Anno smiled, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil. "I use a longsword and shield myself, after all. Since I’m leading newcomers, I picked warriors with similar abilities—much easier to earn their respect that way."
Charles pressed his hand to his forehead. "You’re right, it’s perfect... sigh..."
He decided, this trek into the mountains, their group would only handle the least threatening demons and avoid anything stronger.
This team, frankly, wasn’t suited for anything more.
As he grumbled, the dwarven merchant running the stall brought out their order of roasted meat, stew, and baked bread. Charles tapped the table, signaling an end to the subject: "Let’s eat, let’s eat, sigh..."
A whole team of DPS, yet they’re all building tanking gear!
After lunch, without delay, they set out into the mountains. With Rockseeker’s Outpost gone, no one was running into-the-mountains expeditions anymore. Their group of thirty simply had to cross hills and wilds on foot.
As they walked, they observed the devastation left by Vajra and Shudde M’ell’s epic battle.
Most of the Rubble District was unchanged—after years of raids by the furious Mountain People, it had long since become ruins, and the new earthquake just added a few fresh scars without really altering the landscape.
But when they reached the climbing paths, the true impact was glaringly obvious.
The hills where Charles slew goblins who tried to rob him, the mountain where Rockseeker’s Outpost once stood, the peak dominated by the hobgoblin warlord Zenith...
The peaks he’d once climbed and fought on were now shattered by the earthquake, split into jagged, rocky hills with new cliffs and ravines.
Each time he looked on those once-familiar summits, now in such ruin, Charles couldn’t help but be shocked.
Whew... destroying multiple mountains in a breath, pouring several West Lakes’ worth of water down from the sky—is this the power of a legendary spellcaster?
Recalling Vajra’s awesome strength, Charles re-defined legendary spellcasters in the context of this world.
Witch Monastery, after all, was a low-budget game; it could never render such earth-shattering spells, so players lacked any real concept of that kind of force.
Now, witnessing first-hand how the mountains he once climbed had collapsed, his awe and respect for legendary spellcasters deepened.
Or rather, this was the true power of a Blackstaff holder...
With such thoughts, the party made their way, stopping and starting through the afternoon, covering forty to fifty kilometers before setting camp at a wind-sheltered spot.
It was winter now; nights came early, giving them little daylight for travel.
Still, they’d made almost fifty kilometers, putting them deep in the mountains—and deep in danger.
Night fell; temperatures swiftly dropped below zero. In the howling wind, the laughter of demons and the wailing of Mountain People sometimes seemed to echo—a chilling terror.
Cold air pressed all around, with only the campfire at the heart of camp keeping out the dark and cold.
After dinner, there was little activity: the warriors retreated to their tents to rest.
But this night, some were destined not to be so well-behaved...
Of course, not Charles. Tonight, he was well-behaved—he went to his tent early and planned to drift into dreams, hoping to try some new ideas with the Female Ghost, Agatha.
Yet while he hoped for peace, others had different schemes. No sooner had he lain down than, accompanied by faint rustling, a petite silhouette slipped in through the tent flap.
Charles fixed his gaze. By the faint moonlight, he could see his visitor: the Flame Witch, accompanying him on a mission for the first time.
Ekta was clearly in high spirits; Charles could see the excitement burning in her eyes like a living fire.
She was still in her nun’s habit, but paid no heed to the usual restraint or dignity, clambering eagerly to his bedside and giggling: "Master, tonight I’ve come to keep you company."
Charles blinked and smiled. "So you’ve learned this as well?"
"Andny taught me," Ekta admitted with zero loyalty, selling out the Insect Witch in a heartbeat. "She said, spending the night with Master brings us closer."
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