CHAPTER 217: CHAPTER 112: THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA! BENEATH LEGENDARY

The world seemed to be propped up by Duncan.

At this moment, he was discussing the changes in the world with the Crow Queen, Triss. Obviously, the Crow Queen was one of the people who felt it most deeply because she could now perform spellless casting. Although many witchcrafts still couldn’t be used and often failed, she didn’t need to silently recite spells for ordinary tricks anymore.

"Spellless casting?"

"Is it roughly equivalent to instant spellcasting from Dungeons and Dragons?" Duncan pondered, resting his chin on his hand.

He had always believed that the Middle Ages belonged to a low magic world.

The concept of low magic mostly comes from Dungeons and Dragons, characterized by a low prevalence of magic. In a low magic world, spellcasters and magical items are scarce, and few people trade magical items because they are extremely precious.

Ordinary people rarely see magic, and some even don’t believe magic exists. Even if someone knows magic, they are seen as outliers and may be persecuted.

Magic is rarely seen in daily life.

Even if someone is aware of magic’s existence, most people don’t have the opportunity to learn it because the difficulty of learning magic is very high.

"If we were to simulate according to Dungeons and Dragons,"

"to what position have I propped up this world now? It shouldn’t be all the way to the deepest part immediately, probably just breaking through a certain threshold."

Duncan pondered casually, as if suddenly having an epiphany.

"Could it be considered like this?"

"Excluding spellcasters, a one-star marked combat unit is roughly equivalent to a level 1 to 5 melee class in Dungeons and Dragons. People with an asterisk mark have mostly undergone many years of combat training and are considered veterans among warriors."

"As for two-star marked units, they should be equivalent to level 6 to 10 melee classes."

"The Gaulish Oath Warriors - Kulin serves as the benchmark."

"They were trained rigorously from childhood and are rich in combat experience, possibly possessing a hint of supernatural ability."

"Three-star marked units are already rare."

"They correspond to level 11 to 15 melee classes, capable of taking on hundreds alone. Ordinary soldiers don’t have much means against them and would have to rely on numbers to encircle and eliminate them with crossbows."

As for units marked above three stars, it approaches a qualitative change.

This is the threshold for high-tier classes in Dungeons and Dragons, a stage of intense transformation, where even a level 16 to 20 melee team can defeat a small-scale mortal army.

At this level, ’one person constitutes an army’ is no joke.

"If my speculation holds, then pushing one more star higher enters the legendary domain, meaning myth has officially returned."

"There should be a possibility of legendary heroes from myth appearing."

Five-star strength is estimated to be quite exaggerated.

Those semi-divine beings in myths, some may not even possess five-star golden battle strength.

Duncan noted that when the juvenile dragon summons its first human form, there’s a tiny chance of a ’five-star golden’ legendary heroic spirit descending, marked clearly as ’legendary’ for the first time, leading him to believe five stars mark the legendary threshold.

As for the skull markings, they seem not to merely represent individual strength but a combination of many factors, often referring to those favored by fate.

Many strong guards surround them.

"But this estimation method cannot calculate wizards,"

"because wizards are suppressed more severely by the world."

This is the upper limit, not the lower limit.

The combat ability of ordinary people hasn’t changed much; the lower limit remains just as low.

Duncan, calculating based on his past experiences, became even clearer in his mind, noting silently, "Just one star short; if we push one more star higher, we can confirm if myth has truly returned."

A five-star golden legendary figure is estimated to have the capability to challenge some weak divine spirits.

One day quickly passed.

When Duncan returned to Southampton, he was immediately greeted by the hurriedly approaching Anya, whose star mark had also changed.

—Anya (Two-star Silver Gray).

She was no longer a two-star whiteboard.

Anya furtively looked behind Duncan, and upon not seeing the figure of the Crow Queen Triss, she breathed a sigh of relief, patting her full and slightly trembling chest, feeling a bit like she had escaped a disaster.

The whipping from the Crow Queen was inescapable, but delaying it for a day was still a day.

"I can cast spells now," Anya said excitedly.

Duncan nodded slightly, seemingly having already guessed, and softly said, "Tell me about the changes."

Just as Anya was about to speak, Severus hurried over, whose mark had also changed, a two-star golden unit with the additional designation ’Avalon Guardian.’

Severus stopped his horse in front of Duncan, leaned in, and whispered, "There were rumors of ghosts appearing last night."

"Some saw wandering ghosts at the battlefield ruins."

"Fortunately, no one was hurt, only a bit frightened. The Druid Circle has already gone to handle it."

"I heard the church also took action."

"A priest from the Hermitage crafted a solid gold cross overnight."

Ghosts?

Wandering souls began to appear?

Hearing this, Duncan quickly mounted his horse and said, "Take me to see."

Under normal circumstances, a soldier’s soul should be taken by the Valkyrie or corresponding God of Faith. However, there’s also the possibility of some souls being abandoned.

As Duncan set off, he commanded Anya in a grave tone, "Do you still remember the Heroic Spirit Temple I mentioned earlier?"

"Go find Triss immediately."

"Bring forward the plan to perform the ritual for the heroic spirits of the fallen soldiers."

Ordinary ghosts are easy to deal with.

Just swing your sword randomly, and you might kill them.

But the souls of those fallen soldiers are far more vicious than ordinary ghosts.

The ritual for the heroic spirits had been planned for a long time, but Duncan previously didn’t have the means. Now that he had secured the basics, he could bring it to light. He needed to study what exactly these ghosts were like, whether they resembled the ghost soldiers summoned by Aragon in the magic ring.

Those were a bit fierce!

"Could there be trouble on the Sharon battlefield?"

As if thinking of something, Duncan couldn’t help but look toward the other side of the sea.

Recently, Europe has been in constant war, and the place with the most casualties is the Sharon battlefield, with around a hundred thousand deaths. In the later stages, many severely wounded soldiers were given a swift death by their own comrades, their bitterness reaching the skies.

Quickly.

A squad of elite cavalry raced along the paved road.

The place Duncan was heading to was one of the battlefields, with estimated casualties of several thousand. Some enemy corpses were left unhandled and simply buried as fertilizer. Nearby, there were several mass graves filled with Britons massacred by Saxon pirates, totaling thousands of bodies, including a fair number of elderly, women, and children.

The noble anglo-saxon aristocracy has a poor record in terms of humanity.

They not only massacred Britons but also turned on their own tribespeople, with many Saxon commoners also perishing. As for their descendants, the countless unethical acts by Britain are too numerous to list.

Dimension Space.

From a god’s perspective, Duncan observed the battlefield before him, with no hostile marked units in sight but a special annotation present.

—— Battlefield Ruins (One Star): A death zone that emerged due to changes in the world law, with a small chance of wandering spirits and resentment-filled ghosts appearing. Can be eradicated through rituals and other supernatural means, suppressed with rune stone altars, or directly vanquished if the spirits cannot rest.

Seems they don’t appear during the day.

Duncan wanted to see how strong these spirits were. Thinking for a moment, he instructed Severus: "Go to the Holy Sanctuary of Avalon."

"Ask the Guardian Fairies how the matter of guiding the spirits is coming along?"

All along.

Duncan rarely saw the spirits of ordinary people, as the Valkyries only appeared to take away the spirits of fallen warriors; the others were nowhere to be seen.

Severus nodded and quickly left with five riders.

Meanwhile.

Beyond the frontier of Hadrian’s Wall, in the dense primeval forest, near the altar of a small tribe, a fierce man with a tattooed face and cropped hair was handling his daily tasks.

Simply put, it seemed like a form of war preparedness.

Worleym, hailing from the Scotland region, was a formidable Celtic warrior, as evidenced by the indigo tattoos on his body.

He was currently preserving severed heads.

In the early days, the empire referred to them as Briton-Gauls, and Worleym’s profession has been passed down for centuries. On the battlefield, they even frequently shook the morale of the empire’s elite Eagle Banner Legions.

The heads were acquired not long ago.

Saxons.

Although the Picts failed to invade the British Province, they looted considerable supplies, and their conflicts with the Saxon Barbarian Race resulted in only a minor defeat. Worleym’s tribe remained largely intact, only exhausting a significant amount of ammunition.

Now, he was replenishing his ammunition supplies.

The severed head Worleym held had been preliminarily processed. Typically, a Briton head-throwing soldier like Worleym wouldn’t toss their own people’s heads but would instead cut off the enemy’s heads, process them, and use them as ammunition.

During combat, Briton head-throwing soldiers generally carried three to five severed heads around their waists, frightening not only the enemy but also their own people.

Worleym relished being feared this way.

But today seemed a bit different. While preserving a head, Worleym kept feeling like its eyes moved slightly, yet upon closer inspection, it seemed like they hadn’t moved at all.

"Is it an illusion?"

Worleym stared at the dead head in his hand, puzzled by the gaze of its eyes.

Having preserved heads for over twenty years, this was the first time he encountered such a situation.

A bit eerie.

According to his past practice, once this Saxon head was fully processed, he would carve a symbol on the side of the face, indicating it was processed by him, to be sold to other Briton head-throwing soldiers as ammunition later on.

Not all head-throwing soldiers preserved heads themselves; some were just as afraid.

Ooze!

A gentle breeze blew by as dusk approached.

Worleym had just stood up to put down the head in his hand when suddenly he shuddered, a sharp pain running through his fingers. Looking down, he found the heads’ grotesque mouth had bitten his index finger, and even more horrifying, the head’s eyes were wide open.

A pair of blood-red eyes, interspersed with lime, stared unblinkingly at Worleym.

Ah!

A piercing scream echoed across the sky, causing panic across the entire tribe.

Ooze Ooze Ooze!

The simultaneous mournful whispers filled the air. In Worleym’s house, the preserved heads hanging on the walls all opened their eyes at this moment, their murky scarlet gaze fixed firmly on the door.

That night, dozens of Briton head-throwing soldiers in Worleym’s tribe suddenly died mysteriously!

.........