"I am the archer of Caladria!"
"The champion of the arena!"
"The battlefield's Fearless Knight!"
"The King of Ashes!"
Duncan slightly adjusted his angle, lobbing his shots while the touch was good, aiming to take down as many as he could.
"Shoot the wave Q!"
The sharp arrow fell in a curve, piercing through the chest. Although it did not kill the enemy on the spot, it was unlikely they would survive for long.
The Barbarian mercenaries rarely wore heavy armor, and the fleeing soldiers had even abandoned some of their armor and shields. An archer dealing with lightly armored units was truly a pleasure. The territory of the Barbarian Race was mostly rugged mountains and primeval forests, where the threat of archers was not as significant, and they were not used to wearing heavy armor for fighting in forests.
Duncan's touch was unmatched for a moment, aiming for a quintuple kill in one go.
Whoosh!
But just then, an arrow came his way. From God's perspective, Duncan became instantly alert, realizing he was being targeted by an enemy archer. However, before he could react, the arrow seemed to hit something in the air and veered off course, weakly falling onto a man lying paralyzed on the ground in front, striking his buttocks.
He immediately cried out like a ghost, thinking he was about to die.
The nearby guard captain gave him a slap, knocking out a tooth and almost knocking the fellow unconscious.
"Shut up!"
With a knife at his throat, he instantly quieted down.
In God's perspective, Duncan noticed a hooded figure approaching him. The graceful curves indicated it was definitely a woman. She had just slightly raised her hand, causing the arrow shot at him to go off track.
Witch!
The originally neutral yellow mark suddenly turned blue, even showing signs of transforming towards a green unit.
Was she becoming an ally?
Without any hesitation, Duncan redirected his arrow towards the Barbarian archer. He remembered that he could acquire his enemies' abilities after killing them. By taking down one or two Barbarian archers, he might be able to unlock archery skills.
"Capture the Q!"
"Spray him Q!"
Duncan's touch was explosive. With a wave of continuous fire, seven arrows resulted in a quintuple kill: three died on the spot, and two were critically wounded, bringing the Barbarian fleeing soldiers' assault to a crumbling halt with his solitary effort.
The commander covered in bear fur retreated out of range, terrified.
In God's perspective, Duncan's ability to single out targets was overwhelmingly powerful.
Their only chance was to crush the caravan's escort during a moment of panic. Once the defensive formation was established, it would be impossible to break through immediately.
"Who would've thought that after playing games for over ten years, I'd be cutting down foes under such circumstances!"
In God's perspective.
The young boy under Duncan's control wore a cold expression, resembling a ruthless archer, with only a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Once in God's perspective, the controlled body transformed into a mechanized killer.
The Barbarian fleeing soldiers numbered only about thirty, and with a sixth of their force gone, their morale was shattered. Stuck between advancing and retreating, they had to pull back first. They couldn't force through the caravan's defenses in one shot, especially since the caravan still had quite a few guards. Giving Duncan some time, another ten kills were not out of the question.
More importantly, that bear-covered Barbarian commander feared getting shot in the head himself.
Of course, Duncan's archery wasn't that precise, but with God's perspective's support and the cross-star correction, he didn't have to worry about anything else. He didn't even have to control the body. Once his touch kicked in, aiming meant an instant takedown.
Shooting an arrow in real life and shooting one in a game were two completely different things.
"They've retreated!" cheered one of the caravan guards.
Duncan finally notched an arrow, aiming for an ultra-long-distance parabolic shot. The arrow whooshed through the air, spanning the entire battlefield — about three hundred meters away — landing within three meters of a Barbarian fleeing soldier.
At this distance, its lethality was limited.
But the deterrence was undeniable. The Barbarian fleeing soldiers retreated even faster into the forest.
The others present were utterly shocked, even the veiled witch was startled, unable to believe that Duncan could nearly hit a target from such a distance. With a stronger bow, perhaps he could have taken down another enemy.
"Still in combat mode."
Under God's perspective, Duncan maintained control of his body, staying vigilant while the rest of the caravan resumed their movements. The guards spread out around him, evidently having positioned him as their central point of defense.
The witch also kept a certain distance from Duncan, seemingly centered on him for protection as well.
The caravan chaotically set off again.
The young man who had been shot in the butt and didn't even glance at the bodies of his fallen comrades cried and whined, asking others to bring him along. Ultimately, the guard captain, unwilling to listen anymore, hoisted him with one hand and tossed him onto the mule cart frame. As for the arrow in his butt, no one bothered; each touch causing him to wail again.
The enemies haven't given up yet.
The fleeing soldiers were trailing the caravan, looking for a chance for revenge.
Duncan controlled his body, using God's perspective to follow the caravan's movements. After a half-day of travel, he fired one more arrow into the woods, and those trailing Barbarian fleeing soldiers finally retreated.
They realized that this archer was practically an Eagle Eye!
They were terrified!
"If my archery were even better, and I had a horse, with the right distance, I could solo them all."
If the cross-star correction in God's perspective were more stable, Duncan was confident he could take them all down.
Of course, for now, he did not want to take such a risk.
It's unnecessary unless it's a matter of life and death; it's sufficient to repel the enemy. His strength will only grow stronger in the future.
——"Archery Mastery: You have acquired the Combat Techniques of a skilled archer, familiar with conventional hunting bows, war bows, longbows, and other ranged weapons. Your accuracy and shooting speed have improved."
——"Combat Form - Beheading: Barbarian Berserkers are exceptionally skilled in beheading attacks. Their fierce strikes can directly decapitate enemies. Extra intimidation and fear added."
——"Adrenaline Burst [Special Ability]: An intriguing ability of the Barbarian Berserkers, granted by the Shaman's ceremonial blessing, allowing them to go into a frenzy during battle, triggering an adrenaline burst in a unique way. When activated, the Energy Bar is locked, significantly enhancing physical attributes, but leaves them weak and exhausted afterward."
Not many skills dropped this time; it seemed not every enemy would drop a skill.
However, in Duncan's Combat Bar, the 'chop' and 'slash' Basic Forms turned into light blue-bordered icons, suggesting that the Barbarian warriors were adept in these two Basic Forms.
If he maxed them out, wouldn't it be a one-swipe one-kid scenario?
"Special Ability?"
"Indeed, this world harbors quite a lot of supernatural power."
Duncan hoped to unlock the Mana Bar, at least to use some simple tricks and Dharma Seals like a Demon Hunter.
A pure melee fighter lacks a certain zest. Even Gandalf can cast a Flash Technique, right?
Witch.
At this point, Duncan finally had a chance to properly observe the witch mingling within the caravan. Her face was unclear, but her robe couldn't hide her figure — the classic warlock series female sorcerer's body, with a pair of blue eyes. Judging from the facial contour, her looks were incredibly high, and she was undoubtedly a formidable presence.
She seemed to have little presence within the caravan, and others seemed to subconsciously ignore her.
"My insignia is trembling."
While curious, Duncan remained restrained, aware that she was a neutral unit marked by a skull insignia.
Better not mess it up.
The caravan arrived at a village before nightfall. Border villages were small, and this one had only one or two hundred people. The villagers were very wary, allowing them only to camp in the wheat field area. A caravan hand negotiated with the villagers, exchanging some items in return.
The spot where Duncan settled had a smell of cow dung, and there were straw stacks beside him. The refugees, without permission, moved some and laid it on the ground as beds.
The young man who had an arrow in his butt had already removed the arrowhead, with minor injuries and simple bandaging. It didn't affect much, and he was now eagerly leading two refugees to prepare a resting place for Duncan, nodding and bowing like a lackey.
Before he could chew on dry rations, the caravan guards came with food, including a small jug of wine. A hand had negotiated with the villagers to swap for some fresh vegetables, and made a pot of mixed stew. They ignored the other refugees, with a young hand serving a large bowl to Duncan, retreating with a look of reverence, occasionally glancing back at him.
The Northern bow was set aside, and the caravan guards didn't even mention reclaiming it. Instead, they prepared two quivers just for him.
The entire village was extremely quiet, with no sounds of livestock.
An old imperial tradition.
The cow dung was still there, but the cows were gone.
.........