Berserk: The Prophet

Chapter 299 Griffin vs. Holy Dragon: A thrilling 1v3 duel!

The warriors of the Holy Dragon Knights surged forward like a tide, while the Griffin Knights formed a double-ringed circle of five, back to back, ready to be replenished at any time. They faced the enemy head-on, their wooden swords clashing, the sounds echoing.

The Silver Mist Rangers split into two groups to provide cover on the flanks, relying on their superhuman agility and running ability to employ an evasive strategy. They moved in twos and threes along the edge of the battlefield, launching surprise attacks and counterattacks against enemies whose backs were exposed.

“Oh, the way these rangers fight is hardly gentlemanly!” Trunks took a sip of the territory’s newly brewed ice wine; ice was a perfect luxury for nobles to enjoy in the summer.

Despite Trunks's complaints about the Rangers' underhanded tactics, this extreme kiting style proved remarkably effective when facing three times as many enemies in the open training ground.

His Holy Dragon Knights relied too much on mounted combat, resulting in a sluggish pace.

Would you like some ice wine?

Trunks poured another glass of delicious wine from the jug brought by the servant, thoughtfully adding two ice cubes, and stirred it two and a half times with a gold spoon before handing it to Green.

"No, I'll pass it to my foster father, Seranti. I think he needs to cool down." Greene unusually refused the wine, but his gaze never left the battlefield.

The cool touch of the wine glass on his fingertips reminded Green of a new business opportunity. Perhaps he could use the space to store some ice in winter, and sell it to nobles or taverns with insufficient stock in summer. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Seranti took the wine glass but also kept an eye on the situation on the training field. He had to admit, it was quite exciting. These people were incredibly skilled, making him somewhat nostalgic for his days as a Hurricaneblade Ranger.

Greene nervously observed the situation from the sidelines, quickly devising a countermeasure in his mind. Time passed second by second, and many people from both sides fell. At least twenty members of the Holy Dragon Knights had fallen, but the Griffin Knights and Silver Mist Rangers continued to put up a stubborn resistance.

At this moment, the situation on the battlefield became increasingly stalemate. The Holy Dragon Knights, relying on their numerical advantage, continued to compress the defensive lines of the Griffin Knights and Silver Mist Rangers.

Suddenly, a Holy Dragon Knight seized the opportunity, broke through the Silver Mist Ranger's defense on the flank, and charged towards Koribo.

Green's eyes sharpened, and he instinctively clenched his fist.

At this critical moment, Dui emerged from a group of Holy Dragon followers and blocked the Holy Dragon Knight's attack with his wooden sword.

...The two instantly became entangled in combat.

The other warriors gritted their teeth and held their positions. As time ticked by, almost all the warriors on the field were panting and wounded, while Green's side still had a few griffin riders and silver mist rangers putting up a stubborn resistance.

After several rounds of fighting, nearly forty members of the Holy Dragon Knights had fallen.

As the hourglass dwindled, and the last grain of sand fell, Trunks shouted, "Time's up!"

Green let out a long sigh of relief and looked at Trunks, only to see Trunks' lips curl into a smile. "Not bad, you've passed the test. The Griffin Knights can stay. As for the dyehouse... you can get the documents stamped here."

Green finally breathed a sigh of relief, a joyful smile spreading across his face: "Thank you so much!"

As he spoke, he prepared to take care of the dyeing workshop and the emblem of the Griffin Knights squad.

Seranti, however, seemed to sigh deeply in his heart, lost in thought, and looked forlorn.

...Perhaps he can let go of this child now.

...After all, the miracle that had never shown mercy to him also appeared on that child.

Trunks keenly noticed Thranduil's change in mood. He gently swirled the silver glass in his hand, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, breaking the slightly somber atmosphere: "You seem to have something on your mind, Thranduil."

Seranti snapped out of his reverie, forcing a smile as he ran his fingertips along the cool rim of the glass. "It was just some old news...it's all in the past."

“Yes, children always grow up. It’s time to let them go.” Trunks clinked his glass against Seranty’s. “Want to have a drink together?”

Seranti hesitated for a moment, then nodded and downed the wine in his glass.

The two found a quiet corner to sit down and continued their quiet drink. The morning sunlight shone on them, adding a touch of tranquility to the slightly melancholic atmosphere, giving a sense of peaceful bliss.

"I never imagined that you, who always hated trouble, would be as old as me, a middle-aged man. In the blink of an eye, you've even raised your child."

Trunks was as talkative as ever, his Iron Arm now wielded with ease, and he was even adept at small tasks like pouring wine.

"Although he is a bit young, he has many talented and ambitious people around him. It's time to let go, and you don't have to work so hard anymore."

"Yes, that's right." Seranti's voice was somewhat low, as if he was lost in memories of the past, perhaps he was still not used to his child's sudden growth.

...At least, much earlier than he expected.

He still remembered the time he spent hiding the child all night after he found him.

"I remember it was a rainy night, with thunder rumbling... He was still curled up in his swaddling clothes, knowing nothing and understanding nothing. His slightly wrinkled little face was pouting, and he was babbling pitifully, shivering from the cold."

"When he was just a baby, he saw me and smiled happily. He grabbed my collar with his little hands and wouldn't let go."

As if thinking of something interesting, Seranti's emerald green eyes softened.

He should probably be glad he was wearing a mask, otherwise that warm and happy smile would have been on his face and Trunks would have seen it all.

Trunks raised an eyebrow and chuckled, the pale purple liquid shimmering in the glass: "I never thought you, an old popsicle, would have such warm memories."

He paused for a moment, then said, "But thinking about it, it makes sense. If you hadn't insisted on raising him yourself, that kid would probably still be wandering somewhere."

Seranti stared at the grape dregs at the bottom of the glass, a bitter taste rising in his throat, for he remembered it clearly.

The night after the torrential rain suddenly became clear in my mind—the baby's face, purple from the cold, under the soaked burlap swaddle, and the stubborn warmth in my arms.

He subconsciously tightened his fingers, as if he could still feel the dampness of the child's palm.

Seranti had absolutely no experience in raising children, and being a half-elf, he rarely got sick except for fevers caused by infected wounds.

"He had a high fever that year, which made him delirious. He was three years old and still couldn't speak."

Honestly, when Seranti felt that the child was becoming slower to react and slightly mentally challenged as he grew older, he even considered whether to give him up and what his origins were.

...When exactly did it begin? When did that child...truly begin to awaken?