CHAPTER 358: CHAPTER 254: BACKSTAB_1

"Hmph!" The Bald Sorcerer, seeing that the newcomer was just an ordinary person, looked disdainful and then called out, "Catherine, give me the backpack."

Having a common enemy makes for the easiest alliances. Even though Catherine wanted to get rid of the Bald Sorcerer, she didn’t cause trouble at that moment but instead angled her backpack towards him.

This naturally caught the attention of Geralt and the others. They ignored Dismas, the passerby who had blundered onto the scene, and rushed forward to stop the Bald Sorcerer.

However, before they could reach him, they saw the Bald Sorcerer holding a wooden box and opening it towards them.

Inside was a strange statue. On its stone base, a man was carved, surrounded by bizarre tentacles. He was dressed in a suit, a gentleman in appearance, but his expression was crazed and his posture twisted.

The statue was as black as ink, darker even than the night itself. It seemed to possess some kind of power, irresistibly drawing one’s gaze the moment it was revealed.

A mere glance was enough to imprint the statue’s image onto one’s mind, as if the figure within it had come alive.

No, that’s not right! It’s as if I’ve become the person in the statue, and the surrounding tentacles have come to life...

Dismas, already highly vigilant and further away, had a tempered will. He managed to shake off the statue’s influence almost immediately.

However, the Sorcerer’s methods alerted him that something was amiss, so he discreetly retreated behind the others.

"Evil, get out of my mind!"

Just then, the Nun roared, and the flames on Tamara’s torch surged, as if reflecting the Nun’s boundless fury.

Her devout will allowed her to resist the strange power emanating from the statue. However, instead of charging forward, she raised her hand and cast her Divine Arts.

"May the Holy Flame protect you."

A radiance descended upon Geralt and Tamara, awakening them. The brief illusion had subjected them to immense pressure, and now, fully awake, their expressions betrayed a hint of terror.

Both of them were experienced Transcendents, which made the statue’s power all the more terrifying.

Geralt, however, had lived through much. He quickly suppressed his unease, but when he looked back at the Bald Sorcerer, his stern face now held a new gravity.

Yet, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he charged forward; they couldn’t afford to give the Sorcerer any more time.

The Bald Sorcerer, however, showed no fear of the oncoming Witcher. Instead, a bizarre smile played on his lips.

This reaction unsettled Tamara. The power emanating from the statue was clearly not so simple.

The two applications of holy power had healed her wounds considerably. She couldn’t afford to hold back now. Her Crystal Ball seemed to swirl with galaxies, as if a force from the stars themselves was blessing Geralt.

Geralt’s constitution was already far beyond that of an ordinary person. Empowered by the blessing, he became even more formidable. He closed the distance in great strides, his sword already a blur of fluid strikes...

The statue in the Bald Sorcerer’s hands was no ordinary object. He had retrieved it in his youth from an ancient ruin where an Evil God was worshipped.

To be honest, when he first obtained it, even he had struggled to control it and had been bested by its power.

Transcendents typically handled such items of unknown power with extreme caution. Even as an Aberrant Wizard, he had been forced to seal it away, continuing to rely on his usual Bone Furnace and triangular pendant.

It wasn’t until this journey, after making a pact with an even more powerful entity, that he was able to glimpse the statue’s true might by borrowing that entity’s power.

And now, he could finally unleash some of its power!

"BWAHAHA!" The Bald Sorcerer cackled maniacally, raising the statue in his hand. "Taste the power of the Abyss!"

The words had barely left his lips when a terrifying power violently tore through the barrier between reality and the Void, forming a fissure that spread like a shattering mirror...

"Watch out!" Tamara’s Crystal Ball flickered erratically, emitting a dire warning.

Geralt was no novice; he had noticed the danger without needing a warning. With no time to dodge, he could only cast the Quen Glyph, generating a magical shield in front of him.

The next second, a thick, purplish-black tentacle lashed out from the fissure, striking at the approaching Geralt.

The instant they made contact, the shield shattered. Geralt was flung backward like a cannonball, flying nearly ten paces through the air before he landed.

The terrifying force hadn’t fully dissipated. The moment he hit the ground, he tumbled uncontrollably like a rag doll, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop.

Geralt, however, lay there motionless, his condition unclear.

Tamara was utterly stunned by this scene; her breath caught in her throat. A Master Witcher, and he couldn’t even withstand a single blow?

Our strongest fighter was taken out in a single move! How are we supposed to fight this?

Run! That was her first instinct.

But not everyone reacted as she did. The Nun, upon witnessing this, erupted with even more intense power. Her devout faith would not allow such a blasphemous object to exist in the world.

"Blasphemous thing, begone from our world!"

The Nun raised her mace, which erupted with a blinding light, transforming into a bolt of lightning that struck the tentacle extending from the Void.

Witnessing this, Tamara couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. After all, the Church had such a formidable reputation; surely...

But the next second, that hope vanished as swiftly as the flash of light had appeared. The Divine Arts striking the tentacle hadn’t even left a visible mark.