Chapter 382: These Chickens Seem to Have Caught a Cold

In the snow-covered Rickwald Forest, the witch hunter Albert is sprinting along, breathing the icy air of the forest, his thick cloak barely shielding him from the penetrating cold.

"Huff, puff, huff, puff," the witch hunter gasps heavily as he runs, thoughts racing through his mind.

Following Ryan's instructions and benefiting from protective spells cast by Veronica, Albert successfully completes his mission. Veronica had cast two Light-based enhancement spells on him.

"Phy's Shield of Light" camouflages Albert's presence with magic, while also bolstering his resistance to beastmen's ranged attacks and shamanic curses.

"Baierna's Time Distortion" increases Albert's speed and agility by forty percent, making him exceptionally swift.

With guidance from Tigris, Veronica's magical abilities have significantly improved. Her supportive spells last a long time, ensuring that without this witch of Light and Fire's assistance, Albert couldn't have retreated so easily.

Albert also muses about the frost spell cast by Theresa, the sorceress of Ice. The spell, a passive ice barrier, triggers to block a single powerful attack, protecting him for ten seconds.

Having wizards' assistance is indeed beneficial, thinks Albert, his expression unchanged but his heart filled with envy.

Albert's predicament, to some extent, results from his principles. As a legendary-tier fighter, he wouldn't be this impoverished if he were willing to lower his standards. He could find work that pays enough to eat without relying on nobles and the church.

Albert's experience represents the decline of a particular school of witch hunters.

Before the Great Crusade, witch hunting was a relatively independent profession. The origins and development of witch hunters have been discussed previously.

After the Great Crusade, Savior Ludwig, recognizing the role witch hunters played in eradicating Chaos cults and purging corruption, proposed that those joining the Empire and serving under the Justicar Church for the Emperor could receive financial aid and church protection. Of course, this also meant surrendering a portion of their earnings and submitting to oversight.

Albert's school of witch hunters was not interested in becoming the Emperor's enforcers. They believed their duty to eradicate Chaos and its followers should remain pure, untainted by court and church politics.

This faction of witch hunters chose to remain independent, fighting against Chaos and the undead in their own way.

As time passed, these independent witch hunters began to dwindle. Albert and others like him, who insist on living off commissions without relying on noble or church power to combat Chaos, are becoming rare, though a significant number still exist.

This is a matter of belief, a lesson always remembered from Jacob, the vice-president of the Witch Hunters' Guild.

Lost in thought, Albert senses the disordered footsteps of the beastmen tribe closing in. He swiftly ducks under a half-fallen dead tree, gliding across the snow-covered ground, and leaps down a small slope to continue his frantic sprint.

The sounds of the beastmen grow louder within the forest.

When Albert locates the beastmen tribe, they are engaged in a mysterious ritual.

Hidden by the Shield of Light, Albert uses his hand cannon to explode the head of the beastman shaman, then makes his escape.

The beastmen chase after him, vowing to tear the witch hunter to pieces.

Albert breathes heavily, feeling the protective spells wearing off. His movements slow and his agile figure stiffens. He instinctively reaches into his bag for an elixir, only to find it already used up.

"I must buy more herbs in Hemgart after this mission," Albert decides.

He nears the predetermined ambush site.

It's a narrow hill.

Atop the hill, fully armed Ryan holds his thunder hammer while mounted on his horse, Grape: "They're coming, I hear them."

"I can't wait," says Rick Guard Rudolf, lifting his lance, excitement written all over his face: "This is where Rudolf Lichtenstein's great story begins! Right, everyone?"

"Yes! Fight! Fight!" shout Rudolf's retinue of knights, all eager for military honors.

Without them, these knights cannot earn their spurs. The heads of these beastmen will be their accolades.

The other Rick Guard, Wagner Schmidt, seems more reserved, his demeanor that of a typical new recruit, though his equipment suggests otherwise. Holding a brand-new Reikland pattern revolving carbine and a knightly sword, he looks every bit the son of an engineering master.

Everyone thinks it must be a new gadget from the Nuln Arsenal.

"The witch hunter is back, and he seems injured," states Sylvia, the fully armed handmaiden, by her lady's side: "Be careful

, miss."

Clad in finely crafted gilded plate armor, wielding the Sword of Leonese, and draped in a White Wolf cloak, Sulia smiles, not overly concerned. Her sword blazes with fire, a gift of the Lady of the Lake.

The village mayor and his militia stand behind, numbering just over fifty, but experienced in combat. Seeing the beastmen, their eyes turn blood red with hatred.

Too much hatred. Beastmen had raided the village, slaughtering and consuming livestock, and attacking everything that moved.

"Prepare!" Ryan raises his warhammer. As Albert is chased by a large group of beastmen—perhaps three or four hundred—into view on the other side of the hill, the stage is set for a confrontation.

The Grail Knight, Count Glamorgan, the Champion of the Lady of the Lake, looks to the two witches.

Veronica, holding the Ghal Maraz, and the witch of Cairn nod, signaling their readiness.

Theresa begins to cast: "I'll create an ice wall to block the beastmen's retreat."

"Ice Cloak!" The sorceress's spell blesses all the cavalry and militia with a frost cloak,

"Excellent, let's go!" Ryan nods.

"Advance!"

"Fight!"

"For the Lady!"

"For Charlemagne! For the Empire! For Karl-Franz!"

Amidst the resounding call of horns, Ryan leads the charge against the beastmen tribe.

His wife Sulia and Rudolf and Wagner charge down the slope with him. Though only about twenty knights strong, their presence feels like an army.

The luxurious gear of the group makes a formidable impression.

The beastmen tribe, noticing the charging knights, prepares for battle. The beastlord, a huge minotaur, readies his axe and shield for a tough fight.

"Aaaah!" Ryan's war cry intensifies as he and Grape outpace the minotaur, smashing the warhammer down before the beastlord can strike.

The shield shatters under the impact, and the minotaur's head bursts open like a melon, its body collapsing into the snow.

The beastmen's morale crumbles; they start to flee.

Circle of the Sixth Order, Blizzard! Theresa releases her prepared spell, covering the beastmen's lines with hundreds of ice spikes under the winter weather.

"Ice Wall!" The sorceress quickly casts an ice barrier, blocking the beastmen's escape route.

"Rune-Flame Arms!" Veronica casts a spell that engulfs all soldiers' weapons in flames.

"Charge! Advance!" The emboldened militia, led by the knights and their retinue, charge into the beastmen tribe.

The battle at Smirk Village is a resounding victory, with not a single beastman escaping. Led by Ryan, the cavalry even pursues into the depths of Rickwald Forest, annihilating any remaining beastmen young and elderly.

As the sun sets, this eighty-strong "army" returns to Smirk Village.

The injured witch hunter Albert, bandaged from a blow taken during his escape, fortunately protected by Theresa's spell and not gravely wounded, stands up from behind the village walls as Ryan and others return: "A splendid battle, my lord Count."

"All thanks to you, Mr. Albert," Ryan dismounts, helps his wife down from her horse, and adds, "Without your baiting, our victory would not have been possible."

"That was truly exhilarating," laughs Rudolf. "Mayor, it's time to pay the witch hunter his dues."

The mayor of Smirk Village nods without objection, taking out a small bag: "Thank you, witch hunter. With this battle, we need not fear the beastmen for at least five years."

"You're welcome, but you should thank Count Ryan, Lady Sulia, Lord Rudolf, and Lord Wagner," Albert replies, weighing the bag—about thirty gold marks, more than the agreed eighteen, enough to sustain him through winter in Hemgart until he can take on new commissions in March. He pockets the payment with satisfaction.

As the group enters the village, the mayor, visibly shaking, clenches his teeth and produces another small bag: "Lords, Smirk Village is grateful for your protection. We have little to offer in thanks, but please accept this small token from the villagers."

Ryan, leading his pureblood elven warhorse, responds with a smile: "Keep your gold marks, mayor. We're not in need of money, and as the Champion of the Lady of the Lake, asking fifty gold marks for my services in Bretonnia would be impossible."

"I know your fees are high, sir, but we in Smirk Village swear to repay your kindness!" the mayor insists earnestly, his face serious: "I swear it by the name of Sallya."

"Hmm..." Ryan, now feeling a bit awkward, thinks if he refuses completely, it might become a burden on the villagers' conscience and set a poor precedent.

Just

 then, the group passes a chicken coop from which several roosters fly out. Ryan grabs one: "These chickens flying out in such cold and snowy weather are likely to catch cold. Continuing like this won't do."

"Perhaps we should take them..."

"???" The mayor is initially confused, but catching Ryan's implication, he quickly understands: "Oh! Yes, yes, you're right, sir. It wouldn't do for them to fall ill."

"Hehehe~"

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