Dennis let out a fierce roar, gripping his warhammer tightly, and charged forward.
He swung the warhammer with a powerful gust of wind, bringing it down on Karl El's head. The strike looked menacing and full of power.
However, under Karl El's superhuman dynamic vision and perception, Dennis's movements were magnified infinitely.
He immediately sensed something was off; this hammer strike seemed mighty and heavy.
In reality, Dennis's core muscle groups in his arms and abdomen had not truly exerted force; it was more like a performance.
Moreover, the angle of the warhammer's attack seemed to have intentionally or unintentionally deviated by a few degrees.
Even if Karl El stood still and didn't dodge, the hammerhead would only graze his clothes and strike the empty ground beside him.
A subtle smile played on Karl El's lips. He understood the dwarf's intention.
Dennis wasn't genuinely trying to fight him to the death but was fulfilling his so-called duty and maintaining his standing in the eyes of his colleagues.
He had to make a move, otherwise, he couldn't explain it to the Duke, nor could he face his fellow attackers whom he had "let off" later.
Just as the warhammer was about to touch the corner of his shoulder, Karl El moved.
He didn't choose to meet it head-on or dodge extensively; he simply turned his body slightly.
At the same time, he raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together, and gently tapped Dennis's exposed carotid artery on the side of his neck during the charge.
Karl El controlled the force of this strike perfectly.
Dennis felt a sudden numbness in his neck, and a strong sense of dizziness instantly flooded his brain, his vision abruptly going black.
His forward momentum came to an abrupt halt, and the warhammer clattered to the ground, slipping from his grasp.
His short stature swayed, and then he softly collapsed to the ground.
Just before his consciousness completely plunged into darkness and his cheek touched the cold stone floor,
No surprise or anger towards Karl El showed in Dennis's eyes.
Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible hint of gratitude flickered, for he was grateful that Karl El had understood his intentions.
In the distance, among the White Rose Knights who had been sent flying by Karl El and lay scattered on the ground,
There were still a few who were less severely injured and not yet completely unconscious.
They curled up, groaning in pain, blood staining their lips.
Their blurry vision just happened to catch Dennis "roaring" as he charged forward.
Then, the scene of him being taken down by that terrifying young man with a mere raise of his hand.
Someone endured the intense pain, squeezing out fragmented words of admiration and despair through gritted teeth.
"Captain Den—Dennis—is truly brave—but alas—he too—couldn't defeat that monster—"
Beside him, two or three others uttered low, pain-filled tremulous agreements.
After speaking, the person let out an uncontrollable groan of pain: "Ugh—it hurts so much, my—my ribs are broken—definitely—more than three."
Geralt took in the entire process. He glanced at Dennis, who lay motionless on the ground.
He then swept his gaze over the group of White Rose Knights in the distance, who had completely lost their combat effectiveness. His cat-like eyes showed a hint of solemnity.
He turned to Karl El, reminding him in a low voice, "Karl El, if you do this, things probably won't end so easily."
"Duke Sievard and his White Rose Knights will certainly not let this go."
Karl El, however, looked unconcerned, as if he had merely swatted away a few annoying flies.
He shrugged indifferently, his tone calm yet filled with strong confidence and sharpness.
"If they're smart, they'll remember this lesson. If they dare to cause trouble again—" He paused, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Next time, it won't be as simple as lying in bed for a few months."
Geralt clearly felt the undisguised, bone-chilling killing intent in Karl El's words.
His mouth twitched imperceptibly. He had witnessed Karl El's strength, composure, and occasional humor.
But this was the first time Karl El had so openly displayed killing intent.
With a hint of teasing, Geralt slowly said, "I think—they will definitely remember this 'profound' lesson."
"Perhaps, after they recover, they might even express gratitude for your 'mercy' today."
Karl El chuckled at the remark, no longer paying attention to the knights sprawled on the ground.
He turned his head, his gaze falling upon the old woman who had stood silently to the side from the very beginning, observing everything without speaking.
He looked at Geralt and asked, "Geralt, who is this?"
Before Geralt could introduce her, the old woman's face revealed a kind and gentle smile.
Her gaze remained fixed on Karl El, her eyes seeming to look at someone extremely familiar, yet also as if she was confirming something.
She took a small step forward, her voice soft and clear, carrying a peculiar soothing power.
"Karl El, child, perhaps—this is our first meeting?"
She called out his full name accurately, her tone both certain and seemingly with a hint of inquiry.
She paused, then introduced herself: "I am Nenneke, servant of the Benevolent Mother, and the High Priestess of this Temple of Melitele."
Hearing Nenneke call out his full name directly, Karl El was momentarily stunned, a clear look of surprise flashing across his face.
When Geralt had spoken to him earlier, he had only called him "Karl El," never mentioning his surname "El."
How did this High Priestess, whom he had never met, know his full name?
Moreover, her tone— "perhaps this is our first meeting?"
This uncertain yet profound tone raised a strong sense of doubt in Karl El's heart.
He was certain that there was no trace of Nenneke in his memory.
He instinctively glanced at Geralt, asking with his eyes if he had revealed it.
Geralt immediately understood Karl El's meaning. He shook his head slightly, his silver-white long hair swaying with the movement.
"It wasn't me. I never mentioned you to Nenneke."
Geralt immediately understood Karl El's meaning. He shook his head slightly, his silver-white long hair swaying with the movement.
"It wasn't me. I never mentioned you to Nenneke."
This made it even stranger—Karl El redirected his searching gaze to the kind-faced High Priestess Nenneke.
This High Priestess of the Temple of Melitele seemed far more mysterious than he had imagined.
Not only did she know his name, but the way she looked at him was not simply as a stranger meeting for the first time.
Following High Priestess Nenneke, Karl El, supporting Raymond who leaned on him, stepped into the interior of the Temple of Melitele.
Dalton followed closely behind, his vigilant gaze occasionally sweeping the surroundings, even though it appeared peaceful here.
Upon entering the main hall of the Temple, an aroma mixing the fresh scent of dried herbs with soft incense wafted over them.
The scent was not strong or choking; instead, it had a peculiar soothing power.
It seemed to cleanse the anxiety of the mind, allowing one's mood to calm down involuntarily.
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