strictlysupreme Chapter 100 Demon-Suppressing Golden Bomb
Chapter 100 Demon-Suppressing Golden Bomb
Chapter 100 Demon-Suppressing Golden Bomb (Seeking First Subscription)
Atamon pointed his staff at Vesemir with his right hand.
"Witcher, you don't really think I'd be foolish enough to go alone, do you?"
"I had already arranged for reinforcements."
"Now, return to your places! Go back to your masters!"
With a sharp shout, the staff in his hand emitted a dazzling light.
The golems fighting the witchers received the order; their cat-like eyes flashed with an eerie light as they quickly gathered around Atamon.
Geralt and the others tried to hold off the golem, but it unleashed its full speed, completely ignoring their attacks, and immediately broke free, returning to Atamon's side.
Atamon's gaze swept over the five golems.
Those who fought Geralt and Escal all had obvious sword marks on their bodies.
As for those who fought with Paul, Aiken, and the other three, they did not suffer much damage.
These golems were all very expensive to build, and he felt no regret at all that so many were damaged.
Instead, he glanced at Vesemir and the others, and licked his lips.
In his eyes, these golems were merely tools.
If a tool is damaged, it can be rebuilt; besides, the best materials are right in front of us.
This time, he won't use corpses to create golems, but rather living witchers.
When Vesemir saw those familiar faces again, his expression was complicated, but he had already rushed out.
The wind howled in my ears, and only one thought remained in my mind.
Kill Atamon!
Atamon raised his staff high and chanted a spell, causing fire elements to frantically gather towards the staff.
"Witcher, you narrowly escaped death last time. This time, experience the despair of Kael'thas's fall!"
Sparks erupted, and countless fireballs rained down from the sky, turning the heavens crimson and dispelling the fog, creating an apocalyptic scene.
Vesemir spun around to dodge, and with his left hand took down an item hanging from his waist—a green, bumpy sphere.
With a powerful swing of his left arm, it was launched like a cannonball.
With a simple hand gesture, the fuse hidden inside the sphere was ignited.
Atamon's mind stirred, and a golem shot out from in front of him, its powerful fist blasting towards the sphere.
"boom!"
After the blinding green light came a thunderous explosion.
The nebula instantly expanded to its maximum size, with tiny, demon-blocking golden lightning bolts constantly moving about.
Anti-magic gold bomb.
Vesemir did not stop, and continued to rush towards Atamon.
Within the green nebula, the golem's body was riddled with craters, billowing thick smoke.
But it only staggered and did not completely lose its ability to fight.
If it were an ordinary golem, it would have been paralyzed and turned into a piece of junk long ago under the effect of the anti-magic gold.
But they are different; they are all made from flesh and blood.
The magic crystal device is encased in the muscles of the body; as long as one of them is functional, it can control the entire body.
Furthermore, it retained some of its fighting spirit from its previous life, enabling it to make advantageous judgments in complex environments.
The Witcher's mutated organs have given them the ability to store magic and release signs.
The Witcher's own abilities and the terrifying physical attributes granted by the golem modification make its combat power even more frightening.
Even a hundred-strong knightly order would find it difficult to withstand such a demon hunter golem that is completely unafraid of death and absolutely obedient to orders.
However, the Witcher statue shook its head, and a glint of light flashed in its lifeless, dark blue cat eyes, tinged with a look of bewilderment and pain.
The magic-blocking gold cannot paralyze it, but it can isolate the flow of magic power and external magical signals.
He was ordered to pursue Vesemir.
But he didn't. Instead, he forcibly controlled his body, instinctively roaring as he punched the oncoming aura.
Amidst the rushing wind, a fierce sword light filled his vision.
"laugh!"
The world spun around it, and a chilling sword light severed its head.
A white-haired figure flashed past his pupils, and his deep blue vertical pupils began to dim, revealing a look of relief.
Geralt burst out of the magic-blocking smoke and saw fireballs in the sky, relentlessly bombarding Vesemir's advancing position.
He took something out of his pouch, pushed it forcefully with his left arm, and the sphere shot out in a straight line through the air, leaving a green afterimage.
Ignis made a hand seal.
Another magic-blocking gold bomb.
A golem immediately rushed out to intercept Atamon, its body quickly engulfed in green smoke, followed by a loud explosion.
"How many magic-blocking gold bombs could a bunch of freaks like you possibly have!"
Atamon sneered loudly, and the flames on his staff rained down.
As soon as he finished speaking, several green spheres shot straight towards him.
Each one shimmered with the luster of magic-resistant gold.
"How is that possible!"
As Atamon was horrified, two golems rushed out to block him, blasting a large green nebula into the air, both tragic and beautiful.
Escal and Aiken followed closely behind Geralt, each carrying three magic-blocking gold bombs in their pouches.
Vesemir's eyes were fixed on Atamon's body.
The distance was getting closer and closer; it would only take a breath to reach him.
But he felt time was slowing down, and his mind kept replaying the days he spent in Kaer Mohen.
Ever since Kaer Morhen was breached by the wizards and he saw the ruins everywhere, he has been filled with remorse.
Kael Morhen must find a way to deal with wizards.
Demon-Suppressing Gold! Demon-Suppressing Gold! Demon-Suppressing Gold!!!
Even if the anti-magic gold is incredibly expensive, or even if it's a controlled item in Cordwin, he'll still risk getting it from the black market!
Even if it often takes him a year or even several years of hard work to make one, he doesn't hesitate.
Even though Kaer Mohen was still battered and bruised, with only rags to cover the huge hole when it rained, and he was not afraid of the harsh sound of the cold rain pounding on his ears.
Even if the winter wind could freeze his bones and make him shiver, he could grit his teeth and endure it.
Even if he was so tired that he could only sleep on a wooden plank, or so hungry that he could only hunt in the Blue Mountains to fill his stomach, he would not feel lonely.
Nearly forty years have passed, and he has come alone to retrain Witcher apprentices. Who can understand the pressure he bears?
Was it worth it? Didn't he consider giving up?
His former companions and apprentices were all dead, and even Holt betrayed his doctrines and left him.
Why should he, a lonely man, continue to torment himself like this?
With his abilities, he could easily have left Kael'thas like Holt did.
He then traveled to various countries, taking on demon-hunting commissions, accumulating a considerable fortune, and bought a manor to live out his remaining years in peace.
But he was unwilling and resentful!
He saved all the gold coins he had accumulated over the years, and prepared enough to block the demon.
For what?
So that the tragedy of the past will never be repeated!
And for this very moment!
What Xue Xin hates!
The vast expanse of demon-blocking golden smoke eventually affected the magic power of this place.
The flames on Atamon's staff went out, and as he saw Vesemir rapidly approaching, fear finally surfaced on his face.
They hastily used the last golem to stop the vengeful gray-haired vengeful ghost.
He turned and ran away.
Vesemir looked at the brown-haired witcher who was the last to arrive, who also had amber cat eyes, and magic flowed from his organs.
He was Kaer Mohan's sign instructor back then, only a little younger than him and Bernyov, and could be considered an old comrade who had gone through thick and thin with him.
The brown-haired witcher slapped his hands out, creating a blue tornado that whistled like a dense barrage of steel blades as it hurtled towards Vesemirza.
The black veins on Vesemir's face bulged, and he struck out with his left hand as well.
He drank a potion left over from the Witcher Order era, which could enhance the strength of his Signs.
It's the only bottle left of the Wolf School.
Alder sign.
The two shockwaves collided, and the moment they exploded, the ground looked as if it had been sliced open by a thousand knives, covered with spiderweb-like cracks.
Vesemir charged up to the brown-haired witcher, slashing with his sword, which flashed with silver light.
The latter's neck was swiftly sliced open by the blade.
Vesemir strode forward, leaving behind a casual remark.
"Grayson, your hand seals are not as powerful as before—"
The brown-haired head fell to the ground, rolled around, and became covered in mud.
But he didn't have the ferocity of the dead; instead, his cat-like eyes were diffused, revealing a gentleness.
He let out a loud laugh and uttered his final whisper.
"It's because you've become stronger—Vesemir—"
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