Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 276 The Church, Backstab and Push
Marcus hadn't received much formal education and spent most of his life fighting in dangerous places teeming with monsters, so naturally he couldn't possibly have any aesthetic appreciation skills.

He simply felt instinctively that the magnificent church before him gave him a unique and indescribable sense of beauty.

Unlike any church he had ever seen before, the heaviness and decay that should not have appeared in this place of worship was now permeating every corner of his vision.

The thick fog persists. The bridge that once symbolized holiness and communication with the divine kingdom has broken its towering spire, leaving only jagged edges pointing abruptly to the sky, offering no sense of redemption.
The thick, gray-black stone walls were covered with cracks, and withered, twisted black vines climbed the walls like snakes, probing into the depths of the cracks along the texture, like tentacles reaching out from below, trying to pull the church into the abyss below.
The few surviving stained glass windows are now just dim fragments, whistling in the wind, like the eye sockets of a skull.

As he approached and finally saw the church through the fog, Marcus inexplicably shuddered.

"Captain, we..."

In his ear came the tentative questioning voice of the dwarf "Stone Belly".

The test was not about whether to retreat, but whether to enter the church.

The dwarves, who are always greedy and love money more than anything, have given up searching the many buildings along the roadside due to the group's demands.

If he doesn't satisfy his greed at this magnificent building at the end of the road, he might just start to have other ideas on the spot.

Marcus, of course, would not turn a blind eye.

Their reason for venturing so deep into Ashenvale was to seize more profits.

Now, there are no other buildings behind the church, only bare rock walls. There is no doubt that the three of them have reached the deepest part of the valley.

If there really is any treasure, this is the place.

He suddenly took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his abdomen.

His gaze was fixed on the dilapidated, half-open church door not far ahead, and he waved to his teammates beside him:

"Wait a minute, let's go inside."

……

"Crench."

As stone dust and ash fell in a flurry, the sluggish sound of the wooden door being pushed open echoed eerily in the deathly silent, empty hall.

Crossing the broken threshold, what first catches the eye is not some magnificent building that awes the soul, but rather the misty air, the floating dust, and the heavy, almost tangible, sense of decay that even the most perceptive person can feel.

The bench was rotten, leaving only pieces of gray-black wood that were unrecognizable. The ground was covered with a thick layer of dust, and gravel and pieces of unknown bone were scattered everywhere.

The towering dome, now exposed by cracks and the sound of wind, seemed as if it could collapse at any moment, completely devoid of the sense of security it once gave people.
The massive stone pillars that support the entire church may still be struggling to maintain their function, but the sacred symbols and reliefs engraved on their surfaces have been completely eroded by the passage of time, leaving only a distorted and grotesque outline.

If it were a visitor with relevant knowledge and keen observation skills, they might be able to deduce what had happened here by looking at the details in the church.

But what Marcus and the others were focused on right now was the enormous, sacred figure located at the back of the center of the hall.

I once encountered a broken statue near the entrance of the valley, only half of it remained. Now, it has finally revealed its complete form.

One hand is raised, with a subtle arc between the forearm and forearm, and the fingers are naturally spread, as if holding up something, or as if begging for mercy from some higher being.

Even though time has left fine cracks and mottled marks on its body, one can still capture the unique beauty of this statue through the delicate yet blurred patterns of its robes and the structure of its form.

Unfortunately, the features on His face had been completely obscured by the stone dust in the mist, making it impossible to see the true appearance of this deity.

And right beneath this statue, kneeling, was the only living being in the entire church besides Marcus and the others.

"Ho..."

It was a dry, guttural sound that I had heard countless times on the way here, squeezed out from deep in my throat.

The withered and emaciated figure knelt quietly on the ground, hands clasped together in front of his chest, head bowed as if in devout prayer.

With his back to the crowd, his exact appearance was not clearly visible.

But compared to the first mummified corpse, the only difference seems to be the clothing on the body—no longer the coarse linen clothes commonly seen on ordinary people, but a tattered priest's robe.

At the church entrance, the three members of the Bloodblade Squad remained more vigilant than ever before, wary of any potential dangers around them.

Suddenly I felt my clothes being tugged.

Marcus frowned and turned his head slightly.

He noticed that Shi Fu was staring wide-eyed at him, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his mouth agape, and he spoke in a trembling voice, barely concealing his excitement:

"Boss... Boss, look..."

Follow the direction of the other person's gaze.

A shimmering orange-red flame was then reflected in his pupils.

Beneath the statue's feet, before the mummified corpse's prayer, shrouded in gray mist and dust—

A staff with an orange-red gemstone at the top and a dark gray shaft lay quietly on the altar.

Pupils suddenly contracted!

Greed and desire, visible to the naked eye, emanated from Marcus's scarred eyes.

His identification skills are average, and his limited experience is only applicable to common melee weapons.

He knew absolutely nothing about enchanted equipment or spellcaster-related weapons.

But frankly, given the current situation:
An ancient ruin nestled in a remote valley, a magnificent church filled with mystery, dilapidated and towering statues of gods, and fanatical believers praying devoutly.

The atmosphere was so exaggerated that even if the only thing placed on the altar was a random piece of gravel, he would have suspected that it was some kind of sacred stone stained with the blood of a god.

What's more, what's before us now is not an ordinary object, but a staff with a classic structure, whose function can be recognized at a glance by its appearance—a proper staff!

"We're really going to make a fortune this time!"

Even with Marcus's calm and collected mind honed through years of adventure, he couldn't help but cheer inwardly at this moment.

On the continent of Aifara, for ordinary people, anything even remotely related to adventurers would be several times more expensive.

For adventurers, anything related to "spellcasters" is like another currency system, with several zeros added to the end of the price.

It's just gold coins. Those "mages" who spend lavishly and can buy an entire street in a remote city with just a single piece of equipment won't play tricks on you.

He subconsciously took a step back, distancing himself from his two teammates, the curved blade in his hand gleaming coldly in the dim light.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, reason returned to his mind.

Marcus deliberately coughed and gave an order to the ranger Celine beside him:
"Dispose of the mummified corpse in front of the statue, don't hold back."

A hint of hesitation flashed across Celie's face. The moment she saw the staff, her left hand, which had been quietly reaching for the dagger at her waist, was withdrawn without her noticing.

He nodded slightly, unusually suppressing his sharp tongue.

At the same time, he very naturally took several large steps back, retreating further back than Marcus, so that he could clearly see the positions of the two so-called "teammates" in front of him.

He drew his bow and nocked an arrow, his serious eyes moving from the fletching to his fingertips, from the bowstring to the arrowhead.

Aim, then release.

call out--

The long arrow, adorned with jet-black feathers, vanished instantly between the wooden bows, leaving only a sharp, piercing sound in the air. Having already clashed with these mummies before, and knowing their physical defenses, Celie, aiming for a fatal blow, held nothing back and immediately unleashed her combat technique, [Whirling Wind Arrow].

The arrow, spinning rapidly and creating a spiral of air, broke through its previous flight speed.

The people on the field could only see a blur before the arrow pierced the mummy's skull.

The surface was covered with bits of flesh and congealed purplish-red blood, and an arrowhead gleaming coldly emerged from the mummified corpse's forehead.

The immense force of the arrow shaft caused his thin, withered body to lurch forward violently, pinning him to the ground.

The tattered priest's robes fluttered violently, and the "ho ho" sounds coming from his mouth stopped.

It was indeed a fatal blow.

Having eliminated the only threat on the field, the atmosphere within the Bloodblade Squad became eerily silent for a moment.

No one dared to make a move.

Or rather, no one dared to take the initiative.

Because the "first bird to stick its head out" will be attacked by its two equally scheming teammates the moment it flaps its wings.

Marcus's body was slightly turned to the side, maintaining a posture that allowed him to keep an eye on the movements of his teammates on both sides, his eyes darting around.

The thought racing through his mind wasn't about what to do with the staff after he got it, but rather whether to deal with Celine, who was good at ranged combat, first, or send that dwarf to see his orc friend first.

The pressure was so high that even the air seemed to freeze.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...

Shi Fu was breathing heavily, his face showing visible tension, and his palms, gripping the axe handle tightly, were already covered in sweat.

He certainly wanted to take the staff in front of him for himself, and even his current position among the group was to be at the very front.

If it were simply a contest of bursts of speed in a short period of time, he was absolutely confident that he would be the first to retrieve the staff.

But Shi Fu knew perfectly well that he couldn't do that.

Marcus was standing to his side and slightly behind, within the opponent's attack range.

If he made even the slightest movement, those two curved blades would mercilessly split his body into three pieces.

And that damned woman, whose mouth stinks worse than a country tavern latrine, cunningly hid at the very back, bringing herself and Marcus into the line of fire with their longbows.

He had no confidence in withstanding an arrow with the same power as the one just now.

Thus, the most greedy member of the Bloodblade Squad, the mountain dwarf who couldn't bear to part with even a single copper coin, had already made the wisest decision in his heart.

He planned to temporarily abandon his pursuit of the staff...

My thoughts suddenly came to a standstill.

An unknown and inexplicable force suddenly burst forth from the void and gently pushed against the back of the stone belly.

The force wasn't great; it wasn't even a tickle to the dwarf's sturdy build, and he felt no pain whatsoever.

But at this moment, his attention was completely focused on the two people behind him, and his body muscles were tense, ready for battle.

But it was enough to become the final straw that caused the scales to tip to the other side.

"Clap."

His body swayed, and the stone belly was pushed forward, causing him to stagger and take a step.

The abrupt and clear sound of footsteps, accompanied by the heavy leather boots specially modified for dwarves hitting the ground, echoed in the deathly silent church, against the backdrop of Stonebelly's astonished, wide-eyed gaze and the sweat dripping from his forehead.

The sound lingered in the air, and before it could even echo between the stone walls on both sides, it was drowned out by two louder and more urgent sounds.

That is--

The sound of a sharp blade tearing through the air, and the slurred sound of a taut bowstring.

The sudden, inexplicable movement of his body left Shi Fu in a daze. Before he could even think about where the strange force came from, he turned around abruptly, driven by his survival instinct, and held the double-edged giant axe horizontally in front of him.

"Ding!"

The scimitar, gleaming with a sharp, cold light, slammed down on the axe with swift and merciless force.

The sparks that flew up illuminated the surrounding dark space for a moment.

Without holding back at all, it was an attack capable of killing.

He gritted his teeth, knowing that with Marcus's close-combat skills, he would probably be defeated in a few rounds.

Shi Fu's muscular, thick arms suddenly exerted force.

"what!!!"

With a roar, his short, stout body suddenly swelled up, and explosive power flowed from his arm to the axe.

It will land on the curved blade that is struggling against it.

At the same time, he exerted force with both legs, instantly retreating backward. While escaping the attack range, he turned in mid-air and charged wildly towards the direction where the staff was located.

It's impossible for him to get what he wants.

Before they could even take a few steps, a fierce whooshing sound surged up from behind them.

With unprecedented concentration, he could predict the trajectory of the arrows by sound.

Shi Fu did not turn around, nor did he dare to slow down and turn to defend himself.

He suddenly turned his body to the side, trying to dodge the arrows coming from behind.

Unexpectedly, the black-feathered arrow seemed to have eyes, suddenly twisting in mid-air, and its target changed from the back of the head to the dwarf's calf.

Can't dodge.

The sharp arrow pierced his leg flesh instantly. The torn muscles and the intense pain from his leg caused Shi Fu's forward momentum to slow down abruptly.

"what!"

He cried out in pain, the giant axe under his thick arm arcing through the air, as if he wanted to retaliate on the spot.

But the screams stopped abruptly the next second.

Because the tip of the scimitar had pierced through the back of the dwarf's head and protruded from his throat.

Pull it along with the momentum.

Half of the dwarf's face, covered in gushing blood, tumbled and rolled to the ground along with his convulsing, stiff, short, stocky body.

Before Marcus could even gather his strength, he barely managed to turn around, and his other scimitar slashed through the air, cleaving away the second arrow that was aimed at him.

(End of this chapter)