European modulation mode

"Dang! Dang! Dang!!!"

The mercenary attacked with all his might, raising his halberd high three times in a row, then bringing it down heavily. His simple downward attack was extremely swift and fierce, and each move was aimed at Aenarion's head, leaving him no time to shoot. The terrifying force was also transmitted to Aenarion's arms through the arquebus, shaking his arms and making them numb.

Getting hit by this thing is no joke.

Inarion's eyes unconsciously moved upwards, staring at the hideous halberd blade, ready to raise his gun to block at any time.

At this moment, the halberd bearer made a feint, and the halberd that was supposed to fall continued to hang in the air. He stepped to the right to make room for attack. At this moment, Aenarion's attention was all on his halberd, and he didn't notice the white-robed wizard hiding behind him.

"Die, heretic!"

The wizard in white hid behind his companions, waving his staff gracefully, and using his ultimate magic power, he weaved a fist-sized ball of lightning in the air. The azure electric current was like a thousand poisonous snakes, dancing wildly in the air. The crackling sound of the electric current was extremely sharp and piercing. The ball of lightning whizzed out like a comet, dragging a long tail in the air, and accurately hit Aenarion's chest, blasting cracks in the psychic bones that protected him.

Arcs of azure electricity instantly wrapped around Aenarion's limbs and bones, crackling in the air.

Seeing that Aenarion's attention had shifted to the lightning ball and the mage, the halberd-wielder attacked again, first with a fake downward slash to trick the inexperienced enemy into raising his halberd to block, then suddenly changed his tactics, raised his arm, and swept across from the left with the halberd, slashing Aenarion's abdomen fiercely. The huge impact force sent him flying! His back hit the wall heavily, and the psychic bones protecting his body broke into pieces. After enduring two attacks, it was completely shattered.

"I just used the detection spell on him. He is a first-level warlock. However, he took two of our attacks without any damage. What kind of magic did he use?"

Seeing the two of them attacking in perfect harmony, and being said to have killed a first-level warlock without even causing any harm, the White Mage couldn't help but exclaim in amazement.

Aenarion was breathing rapidly under the pressure of death, his face was solemn. He only had 4 life points, and the vitality spell provided extra life points, twice his life force! But he was penetrated by them twice. If it weren't for the psychic bones to save his life, he would be dead now.

In the fear of death, Aenarion did not feel fear, but surprisingly calm. He raised his musket again, and took advantage of the gap in distance to aim at the halberd bearer for the second time, his eyes flashing with purple fireflies.

"Are you stupid? I wanted to say this just now. You didn't even install the fuse to ignite the gunpowder, and you used your gun to block my halberd four times! Four times! The gunpowder was shaken loose a long time ago, how could you possibly fire the musket? You noob!"

The halberd-wielder laughed loudly. Based on the previous battle, he determined that the enemy in front of him was a novice. He didn't even bother to dodge and rushed towards him head-on.

And Aenarion unconsciously revealed a hideous smile. This man's underestimation of the enemy and his ridicule gave him precious three seconds to read the bar. A flame the size of a fingernail came out of his mouth, flew along the opened gunpowder pool cover, and into the barrel of the gun, igniting the paper-wrapped ammunition inside the barrel that had been tightly packed and filled so as not to fall apart at all.

"boom!!!"

Amid the deafening noise of the gunpowder explosion and the dazzling light of the burning flames, an iron bullet whistled out of the barrel of the gun and hit the halberd bearer head-on in the chest, then shot out from his back, carrying with it countless fragments of flesh, bones and steel. The horrific impact force caused his strong body to be blown away like a broken rag doll, and smashed heavily on the wall behind him!

The armored body of the Venetian slid down weakly along the blood-stained wall, falling silently to the ground like a withered maple leaf.

The white-robed wizard turned his head in disbelief and found that his companion's solid breastplate had been blasted with a scarlet hole by the iron bullet. His entire left chest was sunken, and pieces of broken rib fragments pierced deeply into his heart, leaving a bright red bruise.

Blood gushed out from the wound on his left chest like a fountain, splashing all over the room.

A large amount of blood was first sprayed onto the ceiling, and then, like scarlet raindrops, dripping to the ground. The whole room was filled with a disgusting smell of blood. His white robe and the elf's silver armor were quickly dyed into the color of hell by the blood drops.

This injury is beyond repair.

If the pulley crossbow only broke down the barriers between civilians and knights, professionals and non-professionals, then the musket directly shattered these barriers. As long as they were trained, even an ordinary mortal could kill a professional.

Taking advantage of the moment when the white wizard was stunned, Aenarion quickly judged the situation on the battlefield. It would take at least ten seconds for him to reload his ammunition. This time was enough for the opponent to cast two spells and release two lightning balls. He didn't have time to cast vitality to save his life, so he might as well rush over and fight in close combat!

Thinking of this, he used the matchlock as a spear, roared and charged forward, stabbing the white-robed wizard with his sharp bayonet.

"Can you have some qualities of a spellcaster? You are a warlock after all, why are you rushing over to fight me in hand-to-hand combat?"

It was Aenarion's first time handling a gun, and his technique was very poor. The white-robed wizard dodged the thrusting bayonet by leaning sideways, clamped his left arm hard, and controlled the gun with his armpit and left hand, preventing Aenarion from pulling the musket out from its shackles.

The wizard raised his staff high in his right hand and placed it against Aenarion's bloody forehead, chanting an obscure and complex spell. He pinched the chopstick-sized staff between his thumb and index finger, and with the coordination of the spell, he made dazzling movements and seals with the other three fingers, like a fluttering butterfly, allowing the tip of the staff to once again condense into a lightning ball surrounded by tremendous thunder.

Aenarion loosened his grip on the gun with his left hand and suddenly jumped out. While the other party was concentrating on casting a spell, he grabbed the white-robed wizard's right hand that was wielding the magic wand, preventing his three fingers from making a magic seal. At the same time, he bent the tip of the wand inlaid with a blue gem upwards, pointing it at the sky and unable to aim at his head.

The two noble spellcasters froze in place. Aenarion's spear could not pierce the white wizard, and the white wizard's spells could not hit Aenarion. The two of them competed in strength in the most primitive and barbaric way, trying to snatch the spears and staves in each other's hands.

The advantage of psychic power over magic is shown here. Once the opponent's hand is pinched by you, he can't make hand seals and has lost the ability to cast spells. All mages can only wait for death once they are stuck to someone and have no way to escape.

Psionics do not require physical movements, nor do they require chanting spells. All you have to do is concentrate and cast the spell!

Aenarion's eyes burst into purple halos, and he first used reconnaissance to read the opponent's information. This Venetian was just an ordinary second-level mage. The six attribute points of his body were very ordinary and even, and his strength and agility were lower than his own.

After confirming that the opponent was only at level two, Aenarion immediately used his zero-ring trick: [Stun]. A powerful mental shock hit the opponent's forehead hard, causing his eyes to roll back and he briefly fell into a state of blank consciousness.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Aenarion exerted force with both hands and seized his musket and his staff.

As a zero-ring trick that does not consume mana, the stun spell can only be effective on enemies below level five, and can only stun for a few seconds. But this time is enough. He lunged forward with the gun in both hands. The sharp bayonet tore through the soft white robe and the fragile flesh, and pierced deeply into the chest of the white-robed wizard. The huge impact force made him lose balance and fall backwards to the ground. The blade pierced from the chest and out from the back. The spear tip stained with blood and internal organs was nailed firmly to the wooden floor.

By the time the wizard in white regained consciousness, it was too late. The severe pain from his chest and internal organs being pierced made him lose the strength to even scream, let alone draw his gun and stand up. His weak life was quickly lost along with the splattering blood.

Aenarion was panting heavily, his face stained with blood, full of madness after a life-and-death struggle, and joy of surviving a disaster. He was sweating coldly until the end of the battle. He adjusted his breathing, and slowly let go of the musket with his hands, which were also stained with blood. He picked up the halberd in the first mercenary's hand from the ground and weighed it in his hand.

"Very good, use this to chop off the Venetian's head!"

The white-robed wizard widened his eyes in horror, watching the elf raise his halberd high up in a crazy look, and then smash it down heavily. With the sound of death accompanied by broken bones and splattered blood, there was only darkness before his eyes.

Chapter 11: Preemptive Action

Seeing the two Venetians who wanted to kill him turned into cold corpses, Aenarion barely regained his composure and looked at his blood-stained hands in confusion.

Today was the first time that he had killed someone, but his body and mind did not show any unusual symptoms, no vomiting, trembling, or anything. It was as if he had gotten used to it. The nauseatingly strong smell of blood in the air now smelled as sweet as honey. The feeling of taking other people's lives in the slaughter, proving that he was better and more perfect, was so... wonderful?

Damn, I can’t be corrupted by Slaanesh!

Aenarion shook his head vigorously, quickly pulled the musket from the body, loaded a new paper bullet, and then cast a spell on the wizard's wand.

I use a [Reconnaissance Technique] to see what kind of magic item this is and whether it can increase my strength. I should survive first and then consider the corrosion issue.

However, what surprised Aenarion was that his own reconnaissance skills were ineffective. This zero-ring trick could not detect any useful information from the magic wand. The small white characters showing the information of ordinary items did not appear. Before he had time to think, more footsteps were heard outside the wall that was blown up by the shells, and six more Venetians, armed with sharp weapons and covered in blood, rushed into the room.

Aenarion's smile suddenly fell. What was going on? Aren't these Slaanesh pirates very powerful? Where's Artemisia? Where's the two Bulgarian panthers? Where's all those Slaanesh pirates? You left so many of them to charge into the important building where the captain and the mate usually lived?

Aenarion leaned against the wall, clenching the handle of his gun tightly, like a beast trapped in a desperate situation, ready to fight to the death.

But at this moment, the six Venetians, like soldiers standing in formation, stood on both sides of the road in an orderly manner and knelt down on the ground in unison. Along with a series of anxious footsteps outside the wall, Artemisia's cold face appeared in Aenarion's sight, like a bright morning light in the darkness.

Her graceful body, wrapped in black silk and armor, was stained red with blood. Her right hand turned into a hideous giant beheading sword, and the mark of Slaanesh on her left hand extended into six illusory pink chains.

The warm sunlight shone into the blood-filled room from the back of the Slaanesh Paladin, casting her dark shadow on the six Venetians.

It was only then that Aenarion noticed that the six Venetians had a dull pink chain tied around their necks, and the other end of these magical chains were all located in the palm of Artemisia's left hand, with the mysterious mark of Slaanesh.

"Where are you hurt? Why are you covered in blood?"

Seeing Aenarion covered in blood, the Slaanesh Paladin's cold face showed a hint of panic. He rushed over, surrounded and kneeling by six Venetians, and nervously touched the blood on his body to see if the wound was serious.

"It's okay. The blood on your body belongs to other people. These six people..."

Aenarion looked at the six kneeling Venetian soldiers bound by chains and felt a little confused.

"This is the special ability of Slaanesh priests and paladins: commanding living things. Priests of other gods can usually only command and control a single race such as undead and demons, but Slaanesh priests do not distinguish between species and can command anything, including humans. And with the blessing of the Lord of Pleasure, the limit of the number of creatures I can command is six times that of an ordinary priest."

Seeing that Aenarion was fine, Artemisia breathed a sigh of relief and showed the mark of Slaanesh on the palm of her left hand.

"However, this ability has great limitations. First, I cannot control targets with a higher level than myself. I can only use it on people with a lower level than me or people of the same level as me. Second, the higher the level of the target, the lower the probability of success. Otherwise, those two Bulgarian animals would have been enslaved by me long ago."

"Oh, I see. By the way, this wizard has a magic weapon, but I can't detect it with reconnaissance. It can't display information like the bow and crossbow and musket before. Why is that?"

Aenarion picked up the wizard's sapphire-inlaid wand and started playing with it, asking with some confusion.

"Zero Ring's [Scouting Technique] can only show the properties of some non-magical items. If used on an enemy, it can only show the most basic properties. After all, Zero Ring tricks don't use magic points, so being able to see so much is already pretty good.

The first level of [Identification] allows you to see the properties of magic items. When you use it on an enemy, you can also see more things, such as various magical enhancements, BUFF status, etc. I have an [Identification] wand here, I'll lend it to you first, just inject magic power into it."

Artemisia also threw a chopstick-sized wooden stick with a pink eyeball embedded on the top of the stick. The thing blinked at Aenarion and then began to spin around on the stick. It was actually alive.

Seeing that Aenarion was fine, Artemisia turned her attention to her surroundings and found that the room she had carefully decorated was full of traces of battle. The wall facing the sea was torn directly by cannons, and the mattress and ceiling in the room were splattered with the blood of the two Venetians.

"Can't you lure those two out of my room before killing them? Why did you make my room so dirty? It's so ugly. The six of you, clean my room and protect him. There's still a battle going on ahead. I have to go back."

The Slaanesh Paladin left in a hurry with a cold face, leaving Aenarion with a dashing back.

Six Venetians enslaved by the Mark of Slaanesh cleaned the messy room like puppets and washed the blood off the bedding. Aenarion placed the trophies on the chest of the wizard's corpse and injected a little magic power into the wand of identification, instantly activating the magic formula engraved in the wand. The living eyeball at the tip of the wand burst out a blue magic ripple that wrapped the wizard's body. Lines of small white characters slowly appeared all over the wizard's body, marking the information of common items such as shoes, gloves, and belts.

However, the fonts on the wizard's white robe, wand, and a book on his waist were green, indicating that they were magical items.

[Apprentice Staff]: Mana +1, spell damage +1.

I have three first-level spells, no

One is for output, and only the zero-ring trick [Flame] has damage, but the 1~3 flame damage is not as powerful as your own fist. After taking this staff, the damage is increased by 1, to 2~4, that's it.

However, my mana has increased from 6 to 7, so I can cast an extra Vitality spell, which means I have 10 more life points, which is not bad.

[Apprentice Robe]: Defense +1, Mana +1, Spell Damage +1.

Forget it, just let the spell damage stack. At worst, you can learn an output spell after upgrading. The more mana the better, and higher defense is also safer.

The last magic item is a book on his waist. This book does not have any bonus, but it contains a lot of magic densely recorded in Elvish. It looks like the wizard's usual spell book, which records his notes and experiences in learning magic.

Aenarion put away his spellbook, took off his silk clothes, stripped the bloody apprentice robe from the corpse and put it on himself. The clothes felt like they were woven from linen, which was a little worse than silk clothes, but it made him feel more at ease after putting them on. A warm magical energy was also transmitted into his body through the apprentice robe and the apprentice staff, increasing the remaining 3 mana points to 5 points. There was also a purse in the clothes. After counting carefully, there were Grosso silver coins in it.

After looting the wizard's body, Aenarion looted the warrior's body, picked up the wand with big eyes, and cast another identification spell on him. The magic ripples spread over the body of the corpse, and all that appeared were white fonts representing ordinary items. Only his gloves flashed a bright green among the white.

[Ceremony Leather Gloves]: Defense +1, Weapon Hit +1.

Aenarion's eyes lit up. He took off the exquisitely crafted leather gloves with winged lion totems embroidered on the back of his hands and put them on his own hands. After putting on the magical equipment and picking up the gun, he felt that his hands were more stable and the gun was lighter.

As for the other equipment, he didn't need the breastplate because he had a magic-forged armor that was weightless to wear. He also didn't need the halberd. Although it was quite powerful, with a damage of 1 to 12, he had no idea how to use it. He did have a purse around his waist, which contained fifty-five Grosso silver coins. Together with the mage's, he had a total of eighty-seven Grosso.

What surprised him even more was that after fighting life and death with Artemisia, a third-level Slaanesh paladin, and two second-level Venetians, he had broken through his own limits and successfully upgraded to become a second-level warlock. Now, when he casts spells, he can consume 2 mana points to cast magic, Inertia Armor will provide him with an extra point of armor, and the life increase of Vitality has also been increased from 1 to 10, making him more tanky.

Aenarion (High Elf)

Level 2 (2nd level warlock)

Health 6/6, Mana 7/10

Rifle hit rate -7, physical damage 10~80

Protection 3 (Apprentice Robe +1, Agility +2)

Strength 14, Agility 14, Constitution 10

Intelligence 14, Wisdom 8, Charisma 18

After being promoted to a second-level warlock, he can unlock an extra first-level spell, but under the effect of his bloodline inheritance, he can unlock two extra first-level spells, and the spells can be selected from the normal arcane spell list and the extra psychic power list, which is equal to his own psychic power and arcane dual cultivation.

Aenarion thought for a moment, and first selected a first-level prophecy spell [True Strike] from the arcane list to use with the musket. The effect of this prophecy spell is very simple, with a reading time of three seconds, and then it will increase the hit rate of your next attack by 20.

With this thing, although the firing speed of his matchlock gun slowed down, the hit rate directly increased from -7 to 13! With the help of magic, the accuracy is comparable to that of a bow and crossbow.

As for the second spell, Aenarion chose the first-level prophetic psychic power [Synchronize]. The effect of this first-level psychic power is very powerful. It allows people to glimpse the future in an instant and prepare for what is going to happen.

Simply put, it takes three seconds to cast a spell, thereby predicting the future within six seconds, allowing the caster to be prepared and quickly counterattack when the future arrives.

Even better, if within the six seconds of the prophecy, you are prepared to cast magic instead of physical attack, you don't need to waste three seconds reading the spell, because with the blessing of the prophecy's psychic power, you are already prepared and can release it at any time.

Chapter 12: Cat Holding a Sword

While Aenarion was arming himself and upgrading his levels, Artemisia hurried back to the battlefield. She used the six slaves captured by the Slaanesh Paladins to protect Aenarion, which reduced the number of people she could control. She could only quietly control three level one Venetian warriors, ordering them to suddenly rebel, stab their compatriots in the back, and raise their butcher knives. She couldn't order ten people to defect in one breath as she did before.

This strange scene caught the attention of Captain Mariana. This guy just controlled six people and ran towards the deck. When he came back, no one was left. Then the number of people he could control was greatly reduced... No way, no way, she actually dispersed her forces on a dangerous battlefield to protect that super good-looking elf slave?

Captain Mariana suddenly became interested. She had said before that she wanted to buy Aenarion just out of anger.

He wanted to annoy his old rival, the deputy captain Artemisia.

She would have to be crazy to spend thousands of grossos to buy a male slave. A horse in Asia Minor costs only two hundred grossos. No matter how good-looking he is, he is not worth ten horses. To a lesbian like herself, a male slave is of no use at all. The only effect of buying him would be to make the deputy captain Artemisia angry.

However, when she discovered that Artemisia, the deputy captain and leader of the elves on Caesar's Pride, was so obsessed with the slave that she disregarded her own safety, Mariana changed her mind.

If I can control that slave, can I also control Artemisia and those arrogant Greek elves under her command?

"What are you looking at? Heathen!"

Seeing the enemy in front of him distracted, a Venetian swung his sword, but missed. Mariana suddenly squatted down and lay on the ground. Her purple cloak fluttered down, covering her smooth jade back and her plump and attractive buttocks, outlining a series of plump and sexy curves.

The next moment, the body covered in the purple robe began to squirm, twist, swell and change shape, turning into a leopard that was 1.5 meters long and weighed 100 kilograms. Although she did not open her mouth, her throat and abdomen made a deafening buzzing sound like an engine.

Before the Venetian could react, the leopard turned into a golden lightning and exploded in front of him. Its fangs and sharp teeth bit his neck fiercely. Ten long claws stretched out from the thick paw pads and firmly fixed the opponent's shoulders. The whole leopard was actually hanging on the Venetian's body!

The powerful muscles full of explosive power outline elegant and agile golden curves on the body of this big golden cat. The stripes on the leopard skin are like proudly blooming black roses.

The leopard used its teeth and front paws to secure its prey and, after maintaining its balance, its hind paws suddenly shot out like springs, madly scratching and raking the belly of the Venetian, causing its stomach to rot and intestines to rip. The bloody intestines and organs, wrapped in blood, fell all over the ground along the eight huge gaps in its flesh. The throat torn by its fangs and the shoulder pierced by its front paws also sprayed scarlet blood like a fountain.

Mariana pounced and killed the target cleanly in less than six seconds. She gracefully retracted her claws, pulled out her fangs, and jumped away from the dead body. Her strong and elegant body flexibly flipped in the air, landed, picked up the rune giant sword that fell to the side, and rushed into the enemy group like lightning! Simply relying on the muscles of her neck to wield the giant sword, supplemented by her claws, she killed many people in the Venetian, and blood flowed like a river.

This scene also fell into Aenarion's eyes. He tentatively released a reconnaissance spell, wanting to see what the captain's strength would become after entering the beast form.

[Mariana Luciano] (Beast Man)

Level 5 (2nd level warrior + 3rd level beast)

Health 50, Mana 0

Rune Greatsword Hit +11, Magic Damage 10~21

Defense 5 (Agility +3, Natural Armor +2), Magic Resistance 14

Strength 24, Agility 22, Constitution 20

Intelligence 10, Wisdom 10, Charisma 16