What is an offensive priest?

Chapter 30 The Girl's True Face!

The druids inside the cage were in extremely poor condition.

They wore tattered leather armor, their exposed skin covered with wounds of varying degrees, some of which were festering and emitted a pungent odor mixed with blood and rotting flesh.

Leaning against the iron thorns of the prison wall, his eyelids were half-closed, and his breathing was so faint that it was almost imperceptible.

This is imprisonment, and also a slow execution.

Upon seeing Richard's arrival, a glimmer of light flashed in the druids' cloudy eyes, which were then replaced by an instinctive alertness.

"Humans?"

His lips moved a few times before he finally managed to squeeze out a sound, which was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing against a stone slab.

"How did you get in? Where are the demons?"

"They've already been sent back to hell." Richard's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the dark dungeon. "I'm here to save you."

As he spoke, he turned his head to look at the Shadow Druid beside him.

That guy had been keeping his head down since earlier, as if he was avoiding the druids' gaze.

"Open the door and let them out."

His tone was flat, not even a command, but everyone present sensed an unquestionable implication.

The Shadow Druid's shoulder twitched.

He slowly walked toward the cage, his outstretched hand trembling slightly.

As the binding spell was lifted, the Iron Thorn Cage slowly unfolded, its dense spikes collapsing and vines drooping to the ground.

The druids inside the cage were clearly still in a daze.

The empty gaze moved from the passageway to Richard's face, and then fell back there, as if to confirm that this was not an illusion.

The crowd was awakened when a weak druid called out in a hoarse voice.

"Freedom...we are free!"

"Severus above!"

"We survived..."

The druids, their eyes filled with hope, helped each other and staggered out of the dark dungeon.

Feeling the long-lost forest air and the protection of nature's spirits, the druids' dejected appearance was instantly invigorated.

Archdruid Loth was the last to emerge; he was the leader of this verdant woodland, a half-elf.

He slowly approached Richard, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed deeply.

That was the highest form of etiquette of the Moon Society.

"The verdant woods will forever owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid!"

A complex light flickered in his cloudy green eyes, a mixture of gratitude and a sense of disorientation at surviving a catastrophe.

"Please forgive my intrusion." Archdruid Lot paused, his eyes filled with curiosity. "How many of you came? How were you able to wipe out that horde of hellish demons?"

Richard turned to the side, revealing Avel standing quietly behind him.

"Just the two of us."

The woodland suddenly fell silent.

Not only their leader, Lothar, but all the newly rescued druids had disbelief in their eyes.

They had witnessed the power of those hellish demons, which is why they seemed so surprised.

Richard briefly recounted what happened.

There is no exaggeration, no embellishment, and even the most thrilling details are deliberately omitted.

Grand Druid Loth lived for over a hundred years.

He had seen many powerful figures: the swordsmen of the elves, the rune blacksmiths of the dwarves, and witnessed an archmage wielding the power of the magic network.

But those were all legendary figures, names that had been sung by bards for decades.

The human in front of them was unbelievably young.

In the world of Faerûn, there are occasionally a few freaks whose strength cannot be fathomed by common sense.

Those people seemed to have been created by the gods themselves, unrestrained by rules and not following any natural growth path.

Archdruid Loth looked sentimental.

He then turned around and looked at the trembling Shadow Druid Sentinel and the other traitors huddled in the corner.

According to the laws of nature, traitors should pay the price with their lives.

But Archdruid Loth did not execute him; he simply shook his head.

"You may leave."

His voice was calm, like a pronouncement of judgment.

"From this day forward, you are no longer part of the Green Woods."

"Never set foot in this forest again, or the Ironthorns will recognize your presence!"

The shadow druids, as if granted a pardon, transformed into wild wolves and hastily disappeared into the forest.

Richard did not interfere with Archdruid Lot's decision.

He did not come here to judge, nor is he qualified to judge the traitors of this land.

Druids have their own set of doctrines, just like the precepts of the Temple of Losanda. Every group must pay the price for its choices, which is the oldest truth in itself.

Once those figures had completely disappeared and the woods had fallen silent again, Richard explained the purpose of his visit to Archdruid Loth.

"Blackwater is facing the threat of the Darklands, and we need the help of Greenwood."

Richard looked at the druids with an honest gaze.

Upon hearing this, Archdruid Loth made no excuses.

Without even hesitation.

Not only because of Richard's kindness, but the druids of the Greenwoods will lend a helping hand to anyone in need.

But a bitter expression quickly appeared on his face.

"However, given our current situation, we may not be able to offer any help."

He slowly removed the tattered leather armor from his upper body, revealing his thin, bony chest.

The moment he saw the skin, Avel gasped in shock.

The chest of the Archdruid Lot was covered with a spiderweb of black veins, which writhed slowly like living creatures, constantly eroding his life force.

"That traitor, in order to seize the woodland, not only colluded with the devils of the Barto Hell, but also secretly poisoned us with a withering potion."

"It would limit the Druid's abilities and sever our connection with nature."

"We are now no different from ordinary humans, or even worse!"

"And the antidote," he looked at Richard, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes, "is only available to Moke."

Richard frowned deeply.

He had been banished by Mizora to Aphrodite, a soul dragged into the Nine Hells, almost impossible to find again.

"Iver said anxiously from the side."

"Isn't there any other way?"

The Archdruid pondered for a moment, his eyes seeming somewhat hesitant.

"Deep in the Rizhao Wetlands to the west lives a green widow who may have a way to lift the curse on us."

"The witch?" Avel exclaimed almost simultaneously.

Grand Druid Lothar nodded, a sigh appearing on his face.

"But witches are despicable and dangerous; they would never help anyone for free."

"And the Sunlit Wetlands... that's a forbidden area that even druids wouldn't dare set foot in!"

Avel had heard rumors about the Green Witch.

Those monsters who dwell deep in the swamp, weaving curses with the hair of virgins and feeding their pets with the hearts of traitors.

They are among the most cunning and untrustworthy evil beings in the world of Faerûn.

Seek help from the witch doctor?

It's like asking a tiger for its skin.

If you reach out your hand to the witch, she will take yours.

But when you pull your hand back, you'll find that you're missing a few fingers and have an inescapable contract of servitude!

Avel looked at the figure beside her; she was waiting for Richard's decision.

Richard's expression remained unchanged after hearing the terrifying rumors about the witch.

There wasn't even that kind of well-thought-out decision.

"Leave it to us!"

The sound was not loud, but it was harder than iron thorns and deeper than oak roots.

Blackwater is constantly at risk of being attacked from the Underdark.

The creatures from the earth will not stop their advance just because the druids of the lush woodlands have been poisoned.

For the safety of Blackrock Town, Richard had no other choice.

Even though that wetland is a forbidden area that even druids are unwilling to set foot in!

The night was as dark as ink, and the forest path snaked like a serpent under the moonlight.

The stream rippled with silvery waves, and the banks were flat pebble beaches. Dense reeds surrounded the area to provide shade, making it a relatively safe place to camp.

"Let's rest here," Richard said, stopping in his tracks. "We'll take turns keeping watch, and set off again at dawn."

Avel nodded and took out his overnight bag from his dimensional bag.

Richard went to collect dry branches to start a fire, not to keep warm, but to drive away wild animals.

Spending the night in the Howling Mountains without a campfire is tantamount to inviting nocturnal predators to a feast.

The campfire was quickly lit, and the orange flames dispelled the chill of the night, casting dancing light and shadows on the two people's faces.

Richard handed Avel several rock-hard rye cakes and two dried smoked fish.

He then went to the riverbank, scooped up a handful of cold stream water to wash his face, trying to wash away the day's fatigue.

The river water was icy cold, but it invigorated him.

Just then, very light footsteps came from behind.

"Richard... Your Excellency..."

But unlike usual, it was no longer the deep voice unique to drow elves, but a clear voice with a girlish shyness.

Richard turned around upon hearing the sound.

Then he froze on the spot.

Beside the silvery moonlight stream stood a girl he had never seen before.

She had long, pure white hair, not the grayish silver of a drow elf, but like threads formed from the pure moonlight.

What's most striking is her skin; it's no longer the purplish-blue of a drow elf, nor the fair skin common to humans, but rather a more crystalline and translucent texture.

Her skin was more delicate than moonlight, and her elfin appearance was impeccable.

If Sister Sharon represents sacred chastity, then the girl before us is even more innocent and naive.

The drow elf Avir, or as she should now be called, Miss Vera Anvenska, approached slowly.

Avel felt a little shy under Richard's gaze, and she carefully sat down on a flat rock next to him.

They are very close.

Richard was so close that he could smell the delicate fragrance of violets emanating from her, not the pungent smell of perfume, but a natural, subtle body scent.

"You said that I could reveal my true face when I wanted to."

"The time has come!"