Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 456 - 238: Battle

"Hans is hard to beat, unless he transforms into a werewolf."

Jeanne frowned.

She could sense the danger emanating from the opponent, and even using Demon-blocking Gold Weapons—made of metal known for its flexibility—would struggle to penetrate the opponent’s defense and harm the actual body susceptible to the demon-blocking effects.

"No way. If Hans publicly transforms into a werewolf in front of everyone, it might not boost morale at all. Instead, it could make the soldiers question fighting alongside ’demons’ and whether redemption is still possible."

Losa shook his head. The wolf race on the Yesterday’s Giant Ship world is not the same as the werewolves in this world, but they look so alike, making it an unexplainable situation.

"Speaking of which, this guy should also count as a member of the Dragon Beast clan."

Losa said.

The enemy knight exuded a dragon aura, at least similar to Berian, having consumed Dragon Blood Potion, with a faint dragon bloodline flowing within. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Beasts with dragon blood are Dragon Beasts, and humans with dragon blood can also be considered Dragon Descendants; essentially, there’s no difference from Dragon Beasts.

He now, at the milestone of bathing in dragon blood, has gathered Earth Dragon (Cast Iron Body), Sea Dragon (Stirring Up Storms), Chimera (Giant Dragon Breath), Tyrannical Dragon (King of Volcanoes + Nirvana), Dragon Descendant (Immortal Dragon Soul), Destiny Black Dragon (Destiny), and his progress is more than halfway.

Compared to the almost unattainable "Upgrade to Level 70 with a five-star template to evolve the Dragon Bloodline to a True Dragon Body," this path can enhance his power in the short term.

Jeanne questioned, "Even if so, it’s just a flawed product. If you truly seek progress, you’d be better off asking Anna for a few doses of Dragon Blood Potion to force-feed convicts to easily meet milestone requirements."

Losa nodded, "Indeed. Let’s see just how powerful this Saladin’s Dragon Descendant Knight truly is."

...

In front of the Saracen Camp, a green umbrella had already been erected.

Under the umbrella, Saladin, dressed in golden scale armor, casually inquired of the black-robed Caster next to him, "Master Shemir, who are they?"

"I don’t know, but they are definitely not a regular noble knight."

Shemir reclined in a wicker chair, holding an ancient, yellowed parchment book. Upon hearing Saladin’s question, he merely lifted his eyelids slightly.

The upcoming battle hardly aroused his interest.

Taqidin was merely an experiment, injected with Karelian Giant Dragon bloodline just so he could be considered alike by his beloved pet while feeding it, avoiding being devoured.

He’s neither a Celtic Druid skilled in beast taming and merging souls with beasts nor an Evil God’s Favored bewitching the minds of evil dragons with evil divine strength. His relation with the Karelian Giant Dragon is more akin to collaborators, partners.

He could provide the dragon with sweeter and richer sustenance, aiding the dragon in capturing other dragon species, enhancing its bloodline, and in exchange, the dragon merely needed to offer inconsequential materials and protection.

It’s a win-win situation.

High-ranking dragons possess their own wisdom and resilient souls, making them not easy to enchant.

Saladin asked again, "Master Shemir, can you discern any patterns?"

Master Shemir shook his head, saying, "We’ll have to see how they actually fight before making any conclusions—this Losa, being on good terms with Levant Wizard Association’s Anna, is likely in the same league. Proceed with caution."

Saladin was not annoyed by Master Shemir’s attitude; they were not in a superior-subordinate relationship.

They both meet each other’s needs.

Saladin provides Shemir with an abundance of food, resources, and manpower.

Master Shemir provides his combat support.

Nearby, Taqidin’s expression showed irritation, displeased with what he perceived as haughtiness from the caster, forgetting that even in front of the powerful Aghans of the Fire Worship, Saladin was like the Divine Favored.

Saladin chuckled, "Let’s see then, Losa... ha, who would have thought that the small fry that came to the Holy Land, causing me some trouble under the name of Safudin, would now become such a significant threat."

...

Hans crossed himself over the chest, "Do you need me to wait for you to finish praying before we fight?"

Many Fire Worship followers pray facing the Holy Land before battle. Fire Worship has numerous rules, often more so than Christianity. Some even created legends where one could attack and win while the enemy was praying.

"No need, I only worship my lord, Shemir."

The man’s laughter was a bit hoarse, "Let’s start."

Both began pulling their horses back.

Hans took from an Attendant, who had followed to watch the battle, a Riding Spear adorned with a square banner—an armored lance carrying an indestructible trait, with the square banner bearing his personal crest of a silver wolf’s head.

He slung the strap of the Kite Shield over his neck and forearm, raised the heavy iron spear, and turned to face his foe.

Taqidin, fully equipped by now, bore heavy Rus and Viking influences in his equipment, consistent with his origins from the Neva River Valley of Karelia. He wore a Norman Helmet with excellent vision but poor defense, with chain armor cheek guards hanging around the edges, and was dressed in weighty black chain mail.

His mount, evidently not a regular warhorse, lacked covered armor or a coverall. With massive hooves, it bore a full load of over three hundred pounds with ease.

Hans slapped his shield with his riding spear, signaling the start of the duel.

Upon receiving the signal, Taqidin yelped, prompting his mount to step forward into the acceleration stage before the charge.

Hans followed suit.

The mount transitioned from a slow trot to a brisk walk, a canter, then a gallop.

The wind whistled through the gaps in their armor.

Hans knew his riding spear was shorter than his opponent’s lance. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, just before they were to collide, he steered aside, and his iron-clad shield was instantly splintered by the opponent’s lance.

The iron framework of the shield shattered into iron strips, crashing against Hans’ helmet with a crisp clanking sound.

The immense force gave Hans the feeling he might be thrown off; his mount groaned under the strain.

Hans, fighting to stabilize, muttered softly, "Now, it’s my turn."

Discarding the remains of the shield, Hans gripped his riding spear with both hands, disregarding his mount’s labored breathing, turning back to charge at Taqidin.

This Empire-style riding spear wasn’t suited for lance charges; it was only with both hands that one could wield its full power.

Taqidin didn’t expect Hans to withstand his riding lance charge, but clearly, there wasn’t time for him to retrieve another lance. He drew his longsword and advanced to meet Hans.