Chapter 129: Trump Card (Part 1)

  If the female knight had previously only used seventy percent of her combat strength, this strike was one hundred and twenty percent. This was a true full-power attack. Every movement, every muscle channeled all strength toward the sword’s tip. The gathered power and fighting spirit reached a perfect peak. The enemy before her had no room to retreat, no way to block. She intended to resolve this opponent with this sudden, full-power strike. Not because of his insults, nor just because of the weapon radiating evil energy, not even because he was the strongest among them—but because of that strange feeling deep in her heart.

  Whatever trump card it might be, the female knight had no desire to investigate deeply. Once the man was dead, no card would matter. Now, this opponent was unsteady and exposed a fatal opening. She seized the opportunity in this instant to strike with full power. She had absolute confidence this sword could shatter both this opponent and his unrevealed card into fragments.

  The man’s staggering steps steadied slightly as he desperately dodged sideways. But the female knight’s sword followed like a shadow, pressing close.

  Her step crushed the bricks beneath her feet. The glow of combined fighting spirit and magic illuminated her agile form like a descending goddess. Her body lunged nearly parallel to the ground. She became one with the sword’s momentum. Sword energy surged like ten thousand galloping horses, like mountains collapsing and seas roaring—an unstoppable force that would sweep away all before it. The ground beneath her even cracked and shattered under the might of this single strike.

  The watching bandits could barely glimpse a fleeting figure and sword trajectory within the dazzling white light. Everyone who saw it experienced the illusion that this sword could pierce through the entire basement, through and through.

  “Dispel.” A clear, resonant shout suddenly erupted. This abrupt voice was full-bodied, its tone bright, natural, and gentle—utterly incongruous with the battlefield reeking of blood and slaughter.

  The voice belonged to the handsome young man who had demanded gold from Sylka. Since the fight began, after drawing his longsword, he had stood motionless. He merely watched his companions battle fiercely with the female knight. The combat was so intense that Axsis and the other bandits were too dazzled to notice this "expert" who seemed idle. The slender man, disarmed by Sylka and forced to watch helplessly, saw him too but assumed he lacked the skill to intervene in such a fight.

  Just as everyone was about to forget him, he suddenly pointed his sword at the female knight and let out that clear shout. As he did, the longsword in his hand flared with the exact same white light as the knight’s armor.

  The white light on the sword flashed. The white light surrounding the female knight vanished instantly. Following this, her body froze, stalled, and she staggered. That incomparably fierce, heaven-piercing, earth-shattering strike halted abruptly. Its interruption was inexplicable.

  “Purge?” Axsis and the female knight shouted in unison. The difference was Axsis’s voice held mingled surprise and joy, while the knight’s was filled with utter horror.

  The white magic layered upon the Radiant Battleplate was of an extremely high rank. Moreover, due to the Radiant Battleplate’s inherent properties and its unique interaction with the Temple Knight’s fighting spirit, it was completely immune to dispelling magic and curses from other systems. However, Purge, also a white magic spell, could penetrate this immunity. Not only penetrate it, but the sheer abundance of magical power infused into this simple Purge spell was evident. The caster had concentrated all their magical energy into this single dispel, like a bucket of ice water dumped onto a roaring fire. It completely erased the “Divine Aegis of the Heavens,” an ability the Radiant Battleplate could activate once per day.

  Suddenly stripped of over a dozen auxiliary magics, her strength, agility, and reflexes plummeted disastrously. The energy that had flowed within her like a great river now gushed out like water through a breached dam. Forget continuing the thrust; she could barely stand, stumbling and losing her balance.

  Sylka, the druid, the black-clad woman, and the man with the punching daggers all had their eyes light up. It was the look of hunters locked in a desperate struggle with a fierce beast, suddenly glimpsing its fatal vulnerability at the critical moment. Acting almost on instinct, the four who had just been forced back lunged like madmen at the female knight’s unbalanced, exposed body. Even the slender man drew a small dagger and threw himself forward. Only the man who had been dodging the attack had just reached the wall. He couldn’t make it in time.

  This Purge spell was simple. Casting it without chanting, gathering power silently in secret wasn’t a particularly advanced technique. But used at this moment, it became the trump card that turned the tide of battle.

  Previously, every attack, every movement the Temple Knight made used only seventy percent of her strength. This was the correct tactic, leaving room to adapt to any change, space to dodge or defend. That’s why the young man hadn’t acted rashly. He waited, waiting until the knight believed she had victory secured before unleashing her full power. Only in that instant of full commitment was she most defenseless. That momentary imbalance was enough to be fatal.

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  The young man hadn’t acted before, but this patience, this depth of perception, and this grasp of timing alone proved he was truly worth his thousand gold coin price.

  Punching daggers, punching daggers, short swords, the slender man’s dagger, and the druid werewolf’s claws—the weapons hadn’t even arrived, but the wind they kicked up sent the knight’s golden hair flying wildly. The sharp whistles, carrying a bloodthirsty impulse, rushed straight toward the back of her fluttering golden head and her snow-white neck—the only unarmored spot, an absolutely fatal one. If even one weapon struck home, the knight’s head would shatter like a watermelon.

  Without the aid of white magic, weakened and losing momentum, the female knight, in this split second of crisis, twisted her waist with sheer force, flipping half a somersault in mid-air. Most of the weapons meant to crack open her skull only struck her back, sliding across the Radiant Battleplate, leaving trails of sparks and dents. One punching dagger and the dagger scraped across her head and neck, tearing away strands of golden hair and splattering blood.

  Simultaneously, the female knight planted a foot firmly on the druid’s chest. This hasty kick lacked force, dealing no damage to the werewolf’s solid-rock chest. But she used it as a springboard to lunge forward, spinning in mid-air. In that instant, she had recovered from her completely defenseless state.

  The attackers had to grudgingly admit. From this last-ditch dodge alone, it was clear that even without the terrifying array of auxiliary white magics, this Temple Knight’s physical skill and instinctive combat reflexes were truly unparalleled. With only their own weapons, they truly couldn’t kill her.

  But they couldn’t, didn’t mean others couldn’t. A strange, immense wind sound came from behind them.

  A man like a mountain. A greatsword like a mountain. The wind it generated sounded like a collapsing mountain. Just from the sheer presence, the four attackers instinctively dodged to either side.

  Sylka was a step slower than the four. Not because he was clumsy. Though his frame was massive, he moved with the agility and speed of a cat. He was actually the first to react when the young man’s Purge took effect. The reason he was a fraction slower was that he stood his ground, took a deep breath.

  Everyone could hear that rumbling, gurgling breath, like a giant whale sucking in water. Then, all of Sylka’s muscles swelled. The already bulging muscles expanded further, his skin stretching taut and shiny, as if he were an overinflated balloon about to burst. He had originally looked like a fortress of muscle; now he was muscle like a fortress.

  Contrary to this monstrous appearance, Sylka didn’t descend into a berserk frenzy, charging mindlessly. Instead, his face was grave. Holding the greatsword level with both hands, like a child just learning swordsmanship, he stepped forward. A faint, textbook-perfect glow emanated from him, extending continuously onto the greatsword.

  “Fighting spirit!” the druid and the other three gasped in unison. This was an ability only possessed by warriors who possessed a profound understanding of martial arts, who had integrated fighting spirit and combat experience into their very life and soul. To think this seemingly brutish, bestial, bloodthirsty bandit chief possessed such a one-in-a-million level of attainment. Even more unthinkable was that he hadn’t used it at all in the previous fighting, only revealing his true combat power now.

  This sword strike wasn’t as fast as thunder or lightning. But it was fast enough to reach the female knight just as she landed, still unsteady. It was an unavoidable strike.

  Facing the might of this sword, the female knight’s expression changed. She gritted her teeth, pressing her hand to her chest. An even more intense white light than before instantly flared around her. Simultaneously, a blue gemstone on the left vambrace of her Radiant Battleplate shattered. The shattered gem emitted a dazzling light, instantly forming a shield of condensed light on her left arm, barely meeting the tip of the incoming greatsword.

  This was the Radiant Battleplate’s ultimate defensive magic, “Divine Aegis.” It was the last resort defense for every Temple Knight. She had to take this blow head-on. But suddenly, her body jolted. Her eyes glazed over. The light shield on her arm instantly dimmed.

  Beside Axsis, the old man struck by the magic arrow lay on the ground. His laughter sounded like a large rat that had just stolen a kitten’s milk. His whole body was still smoking, his hair and eyebrows completely gone. But he still clutched that strange wand, pointing it at the female knight.

  He hadn’t suffered fatal injuries from the Light Arrow spell, but he dared not get up. The Temple Knight was nearly immune to his Soul Magic; his spells only had a very slight effect, so he didn’t dare act rashly. Like the young man, he had waited for the best opportunity. But his eyesight and reactions were far inferior to the young man’s; he couldn’t time it perfectly.

  Fortunately, this moment wasn’t bad either.

  The greatsword, covered in a faint red glow, shattered the dimming light shield into scattered points of light. It then scraped past the female knight’s arm, striking her right side, between chest and abdomen. The sound of bone breaking and armor twisting was piercingly loud, even louder than the impact itself. Relying on immense strength, the massive weapon, and the power of fighting spirit, he finally breached the Radiant Battleplate’s defense.

  The female knight’s body flew out like a bolt from a siege crossbow. A tremendous crash shook the entire basement. The knight slammed into the earthen wall of the basement, her body almost entirely embedded within it. A bandit watching nearby couldn’t dodge in time, becoming a cushion for her impact against the wall, instantly shattered into pieces.

  Blood and limbs scattered. The female knight’s Radiant Battleplate, once radiating pure white holy light, was now soaked in blood. She slid weakly down the earthen wall, collapsing to one knee. Had she not activated the Radiant Battleplate’s “Divine Aegis,” this single blow would have pulverized her.

  The bones of her left hand were shattered. At least five ribs were broken, and internal organs were damaged. The female knight coughed up a mouthful of blood. Her handsome, beautiful face was twisted by unprecedented pain and a sense of defeat. Only now did she understand that she had never held any advantage in this battle at all.

  Her temporary superiority was because her opponents hadn’t revealed their trump cards. Whether it was the young man or this mountain of muscle, the bandit chief, both had shown her the immense power of a hidden card. Used well, an unknown trump card was enough to turn the tide of battle.

  The female knight dropped her sword. White magic flared on her hand as she took out a crystal from her waist. It was a palm-sized crystal, shaped like a four-sided pyramid with identical triangular faces. Transparent, the magical fluctuations emanating from it instantly filled the basement. Anyone could tell this magical crystal must contain extraordinary power.

  “Don’t let that bitch heal!” In such a severely wounded state, as a Temple Knight of the Church, what she took out was naturally a magical artifact storing potent healing magic. The slender man was closest to the knight. He immediately leaped towards her, a gaunt face twisted with venomous ferocity. “Strike while she’s down!”

  “Don’t go near! That’s Prism Light!” the young man shouted desperately, just in time to stop others who were about to swarm forward.

  “Everyone, get down! Close your eyes!” the man holding the dark crimson strange blade also roared. Unfortunately, the slender man was already mid-air. Not only could he not get down, but his limbs were fully extended as he flew straight towards her. He only had time to shriek like a slaughtered pig: “Fuck your mother! Why didn’t you say so earlier…”