Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 187: Against Witches and Witchers.

Chapter 187: Against Witches and Witchers.

Fight,

Borders, Critic-Ishire.

*******************

Meanwhile, Conan had a group he was fighting with too, he quickly twirled his body to the right to avoid a pour of acid rain and to the left to avoid icy spikes, the witches were getting angrier.

Theodore soon created a rhythm of fist and sword fights so the witches became the ones at a loss without knowing how to adapt to such close-range combat. They also had to scurry so their colleagues’ spell would not end up hitting them instead of the enemy it was intended for. Most of them mistakenly took their teammates’ attacks, crippling them for life. The proximity with the witches helped Theodore a lot and soon another of his daggers hit home in a witch’s heart.

Tom swung his sword to the crazed one that suddenly rushed towards him, he aimed expertly and the blade found the witch’s side. As a last resort, a spell sealed his sword to the sorcerer’s and Tom was left bare without a sword. With magic, he was lifted and flown towards a tree.

Theodore was left with one more enemy to defeat in the attack stance he took but he had thrown it over to Conan when he had been pressed to the ground aiding the knight with ending the witch so without a single weapon to arm himself against the wiles of magic that his opponent could conjure Theodore looked around for options, tensions were high, hearts beat faster at this final standoff and he knew they would soon get dirtier.

Having used the brutal battle between the witches and Theodore, the lord started to take steps back to collect himself and create some separation to get ready closer to his wife, the strongest witch came closer and began another onslaught of his own.

This time, Theodore could not evade the forces of nature but rather he was forced to wrestle against it.

A tree without warning sprouted from the ground and took the shape of a man and when his transformation was complete, he went straight after Theodore. Almost twice his size with fists as sharp as blades, the lord knew it was best to use his own mortal speed yet again, he dodged each punch which enraged the monster even more, and each of his steps shook the whole area making Lydia feel the temptation to step out overwhelm her.

The lower witches laughed as they fought while the one who had awakened the tree watched with interest as his champion chased down Theodore. Little did he know that Theodore was using his run to inch closer to him with every step. Before he could figure this out, Theodore got a fist right to his jaw. Although that would not knock him out as he was stronger than the rest, he became an enraged witch, he howled and pushed his fist right into his companion’s heart but then he became paralyzed, that was an intended attack for Theodore who got away but now his person laid limp with a hole in his chest from where the heart had been...

Because the witch had killed their own person, he looked to the sky in guilt, then he directed his small dagger towards his throat and swiped it, blood oozed out of it in a hurry while Tom watched with disgust at how purple the body was already becoming.

The fight continued ferociously.

The three men fought with unmatched skill and ferocity, their blades slicing through the air with lethal precision as they faced the onslaught of the witches.

Each swing of their swords was met with a burst of magic, but the men pressed on undeterred, their movements fluid and coordinated. They moved as one, their tactics honed through years of training and experience, each covering the other’s back as they fought against overwhelming odds.

But the witches and wizards were no ordinary foes. With their arcane powers and dark magic, they conjured flames and lightning, seeking to overwhelm their adversaries with sheer force. Yet Theodore and his men stood their ground, their resolve unbroken even as the battle raged around them.

Some of the witches, sensing the tide turning against them, attempted to flee into the shadows, but the men pursued them relentlessly, their determination unyielding. Others met their end in the heat of battle, their bodies falling to the forest floor as the clash of arms continued unabated.

Two witch men, their eyes glowing with dark magic, descended upon the carriage. Tom’s eyes widened but he stood his ground, determination etched on his face. His mistress’s safety was paramount. He would get honour in doing that.

The first witch lunged, casting a spell with a flick of his wrist. Tom dodged, feeling the heat of the dark energy scorch the air beside him. He swung his wooden handle sword, connecting with the witch’s jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor.

The second witch chanted, conjuring a swirling vortex of shadows but Theodore was quick to show up to Toms’ rescue and he countered by thrusting his staff into the vortex’s core, dispersing it with a burst of light from his enchanted amulet.

The first witch that Tom had downed recovered, slashing with a curved dagger. Theodore blocked it, but the blade grazed his arm, drawing blood. Ignoring the pain, he spun, delivering a fierce kick to the witch’s chest. Tom was already on the floor then, his elbow hurting.

The second witch hurled a fireball. Tom rolled, the flames singeing his shirt but missing him, Theodore knew he had to direct the attacker away from the carriage before his fireballs put the carriage on fire and killed his wife. So Theodore ran the other way drawing the witch to another area where he resumed his attacks.

As a witch scrambled to rise, Tom delivered a swift, decisive blow to her, rendering her unconscious after a screech that attracted more.

Breathing heavily, Tom stood victorious but wounded, his blood mingling with the earth. He turned, ensuring his mistress remained unharmed inside the carriage but she wasn’t inside, she was outside his brain screamed. Amidst the chaos, Lydia watched in awe and terror, her eyes wide with disbelief at the sight unfolding before her.

Yet amidst the chaos and destruction, she found a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light amidst the darkness. Theodore was still alive, she was relieved, she had suddenly felt the need to confirm if he was still there.

So now she felt they would go home for in the heart of the battle, amidst the clash of steel and the crackle of magic, she saw the courage and resilience of the three men who fought to protect her. And in that moment, she knew that no matter the outcome, they would stand together until the very end.

Blanc gripped the horse reins. He thought his lady sat inside the carriage, unaware of the lurking danger. Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from the trees, a glint of malice in his eyes. Blanc leapt down, placing himself between the intruder and the carriage door.

"Stay back!" he shouted, voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his heart. The assailant sneered and lunged. John fought valiantly, but the attacker was swift and ruthless.

A sharp pain seared through Blanc’s side as the knife plunged in, hot blood soaking his shirt. He staggered but didn’t fall, determination blazing in his eyes. With his last ounce of strength, he pushed the door shut, locking his lady inside, safe for the moment.

The forest fell silent suddenly, save for the ragged breath of the dying coachman and the ominous rustle of leaves.

Lydia rushed outside after the deafening silence stretched and just by the door was their coachman bleeding on the floor. The fight was over, some gone and some dead.

"Blanc!" Lydia wailed as she crouched to touch his chest, he seemed to have a cut or a hole in his chest. "Blanc is wounded! Oh my God" her words fall out drawing the remaining audience towards her.

"Stop moving!" she tells him when he tries to get up, his grunts are sharp and painful.

"He would be fine, we just need to rush home," Theodore said behind her, she twirled to face him, she didn’t see any obvious wounds and she couldn’t help being scared of the bleeding Blanc.

"To a physician please" she let out.

Theodore opened the door of the carriage and "Stay inside Lydia"

"Theodore, he is dying!" Lydia screamed.

The lord ground out, "I might be the one to kill him before the wound does if you do not refrain from touching him, love"

"Theodore!" She whined and that made him grunt.

"Okay, Conan" he relented.

The knight rushed over and they were quick to lift him.

The fight was over and they had to resume their travel wounded and all.

The Lord had a cut on his chin, Conan his arm and thigh, while Blanc bled, and Tom felt lightheaded.

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