Our Family Has Fallen

At that moment, Lance dropped his facade of weakness, drawing his greatsword and sweeping it out.

But the Witch easily blocked with her hammer, mocking, "Do you think you're fooling anyone?"

She licked her lips with a look of indulgence. "Such a robust body. I can hardly wait to feast on it."

Lance continued to swing, his face grim. This state was constantly consuming his Spiritual Essence; he wouldn't last much longer.

The greatsword and hammer clashed, metal ringing against metal. The force of the impact traveled up the blade, making the already weak Lance's limbs go soft.

The Witch, showing no regard for martial virtue, pressed her advantage. She kept swinging her hammer, forcing Lance to expend his strength while the illness further eroded his body.

Lance knew if he dragged this out any longer, he would certainly lose. He had to find a way to fight with everything he had...

"ARGH!"

Suddenly, Lance felt as if his internal organs had been struck a heavy blow. They felt tangled and knotted, his intestines seemingly tied together.

"When did you..."

Lance lifted his head to look at the Witch. His body felt riddled with wounds. When had he been afflicted?

The Witch didn't answer. Instead, she bared her teeth, her ferocious intent clear. The swing of her hammer was utterly merciless.

Just then, the Witch suddenly abandoned Lance. She turned and swung her hammer as if something more threatening was behind her.

Lance was indeed tormented by illness, but he was fighting for his life. What else could he care about at this moment?

He immediately grabbed his greatsword and seized the opportunity to thrust it at her.

Unfortunately for him, the Witch, despite her seemingly obese frame, was surprisingly agile and dodged Lance's direct stab with a step back.

Lance, lurching forward, stumbled past her and then saw why the Witch had turned around.

The strange, large cocoon had broken open, revealing a uniquely dressed woman with a distinct Barbarian Tribes style. Lance was sure she was a woman; her well-endowed chest was hard to miss.

She held a strangely shaped Magic Wand crafted from an unknown plant, from which sprouted tender green, antler-like shoots. She wore an Antler Mask made of bone, obscuring her features.

However, Lance noticed that the mask she wore bore some resemblance to the one the Witch wore on her head. It was unclear what their relationship was.

Nevertheless, Lance could sense she also held a grudge against the Witch. From her wide sleeve, she extended a thorn as thick as a whip, attacking the Witch. Unfortunately, the woman was clearly not in good condition and was no match for the Witch.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Bearing the severe pain, Lance reached out to her.

[Flesh Reconstruction]

[Bless]

The woman was clearly aware of Lance's movements and glanced sideways, distracted from the battle. It was obvious she was also wary of Lance.

The moment she felt an uncontrollable strangeness within her body, she didn't hesitate to direct the thorns from her sleeve at Lance, attacking him.

However, at that instant, she felt the accumulated pain in her body vanish. A surge of strength emerged, the long-fought fatigue was eliminated, and her nearly depleted body felt rejuvenated.

Realizing he wasn't an enemy, the thorn changed its trajectory from a stab to instead curl around Lance, pulling him over.

"You're poisoned. This is an Antidote," the woman said without wasting words, pulling out a vial containing a ghastly green Potion.

Lance frowned slightly at the sight but was in no position to hesitate. He took the vial, uncapped it, and gulped down the Potion.

He had expected it to taste horrible, but it felt refreshingly cool as it went down his throat. The next second, however, a sharp pain twisted in his stomach. He felt as if a torrent had been unleashed in his belly, and there was a strong sensation of something foreign in his throat.

Unable to help it, he vomited a pool of black blood, teeming with countless tiny, writhing maggots.

Seeing this, Lance couldn't help but get goosebumps. The Witch's methods are too malicious!

The violent reaction continued. He felt as if he might throw up his entire stomach. A filthy puddle grew on the ground, and he kept vomiting until what he expelled returned to the color of fresh blood, with no more maggots in it.

With the illness gone, Lance felt immense relief. The flesh wounds and pain seemed trivial; he smoothed them over with a mere wave of his hand as strength returned to his body.

"We'll only survive if we kill her. Alone, neither of us will escape the Spore Forest," Lance said, lifting his greatsword and charging forward.

The words were clearly meant for her. Lance knew she had saved him to detain the Witch so she could make a run for it.

The woman hesitated for a moment. Then, she drew back the foot she had started to move forward with, instead focusing on controlling the thorns with her Magic Wand.

Lance dared not underestimate the Witch anymore. He charged at her, using his most brutish attacks to press his advantage.

Wild, frenzied swinging!

He didn't bother with a contest of strength, instead swinging his greatsword like a raging storm. He cared about nothing else—he just needed to land his blade on the Witch, and that would be enough.

He might have slightly less power, but his own strength is unceasing, and his weapon is longer than hers.

The Witch realized the change in the man's style. After blocking a few blows with her hammer, even she felt her strength waning, while her opponent, conversely, seemed to grow more ferocious. It was highly abnormal.

Now that she had to fend off both their attacks, she was no longer as casual as before. In fact, she was starting to be pushed to her limits.

The thorns seized the opportunity, coiling around the Witch's leg and extending upwards, attempting to bind her and create an opening. However, their strength was clearly insufficient to immobilize her massive frame.