Chapter 155: Turn (Part 3)

  Magical power is as vital to a mage as life itself, especially in combat. Without magic, they’re like fish on a chopping block. Every spell requires careful consideration, repeated deliberation, to maximize its lethal effect. Unless in extreme circumstances, no mage would exhaust all their magical power in a single offensive.

  Sedros’s earlier spellcasting was indeed dazzling and complex, perfectly coordinated. Relying on unbelievable instant-casting and control techniques, he used a chain of mid-to-low-tier spells to momentarily hinder and delay three Temple Knights whose magic resistance was so high they were nearly immune to such magic. This was almost the pinnacle of what a mage could achieve.

  But no one could have imagined that this artful display, consuming all his magical power, wasn’t meant for delay—it was preparation. Every step was a link in a chain, each spell exquisitely timed, drawing the three Temple Knights into a trap. Without the Fire Wall, they wouldn’t have stepped into the Quicksand. Without the Quicksand, they wouldn’t have paused leaping out, unable to dodge the three Thunder Frost spells.

  The combined magic resistance of the Radiant Battleplate and the Temple Knights' fighting spirit could only be harmed by high-level attack spells or grand incantations. But grand incantations require time. At such close range, even the time for a sneeze was enough to die a hundred times. Moreover, with their skills, they could easily evade not just spells, but even powerful crossbows fired directly at them.

  But the situation changed drastically. Having just leapt out of the flaming quicksand, their bodies unbalanced, their vision obscured by the three Thunder Frost spells, Christine and Aldric each faced one, while Lancelot faced two. Thunder Frost wasn’t just for obscuring vision; Lancelot and Christine had already swung their swords, and Aldric was momentarily frozen. Though the paralysis lasted less than half a blink, it was enough.

  A Thunderblast Bomb could shatter an iron statue. Though a Temple Knight in Radiant Battleplate was far sturdier than an iron statue, under this spell, even if not killed, they would be severely wounded. Activating Divine Aegis now could block the spell, but the resulting shockwave would hurl them far away, and the prime opportunity to strike Gru would be lost.

  Thus, only Aldric activated the Divine Aegis shield from his Radiant Battleplate, a massive white magical shield enveloping him. Christine’s silver great sword flared intensely. As she moved, she swung at the Thunderblast Bomb before her.

  A mage’s spell isn’t a thrown apple or watermelon, to be casually sliced by a blade. Any external force can cause the violent magical elements within to destabilize, explode, and take effect. Only when the sword’s fighting spirit, speed, strength, and balance are perfected can it sever the spell without triggering its magical fluctuations. To truly sever a spell with a sword in combat—fewer than three on the continent could do it.

  The energy and fighting spirit consumed by such a strike were immense. Christine might not have been one of those three. Yet, after severing the Thunder Frost, she showed not the slightest pause or hesitation, swinging again. The silver light flowing on her Iron Feather Sword was a mix of righteous white magic and lightning magic—a top-tier magical weapon, arguably the best suited for resisting and destroying spells.

  Lancelot’s sword wasn’t such a magical weapon, but he was undoubtedly one of those three, perhaps the foremost. Facing two Thunderblast Bombs, his expression merely turned solemn as he too swung his sword.

  But Sedros clearly knew this. Daring to risk his entire magical power as a setup, sacrificing a top-tier wand, he would surely go all out. Ensuring a kill, an absolute kill, a certain death. If delay was the goal, he’d have used other, less taxing, more effective methods. But now, he and Gru were at an absolute disadvantage. He had to take a desperate gamble, a lethal move.

  Though his body was weary from magical exhaustion, Sedros moved with maximum speed. He dropped the broken wand, pulled a scroll from his robes, and unfurled it. A lightning bolt as thick as a water bucket shot from his hand.

  This wasn’t ordinary lightning; it was Chain Lightning, equal in rank to Thunderblast Bomb. Sedros’s target wasn’t any of the three, but the droplets and mist surrounding them. This was the result of the Thunder Frost (severed by the Temple Knights) colliding with the blazing Blazing Wall behind them. The collision of ice and fire magic produced abundant water droplets and thick mist, effectively submerging the three in water.

  This was the final, most unexpected, deadliest step in the setup.

  The bucket-thick lightning struck the rain-mist. Countless sounds of current converging and striking accumulate into deafening thunder. An ocean of countless tiny bolts completely enveloped the three Temple Knights.

  The dispersed Chain Lightning wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful, but it was pervasive and unstoppable. Aldric and Christine felt numbness and stinging pierce their ears, noses, mouths, and every exposed pore, invading inward. Through every nerve, every blood vessel, every muscle fiber, it danced wildly within them, surging towards their brains in a relentless, climactic assault.

  Though it couldn’t cause significant physical harm, the paralysis and agony were sufficient.

  Christine’s movements instantly faltered. Her swinging Iron Feather Sword went wide. Though the sword was well-suited against magic, "suited" didn’t mean it could withstand chaotic contact.

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  Aldric’s Divine Aegis shield vanished. It required the Temple Knight’s active control. Had he clad himself in Divine Aegis, this lightning wouldn’t have harmed him. Unfortunately, to block the Thunderblast Bomb, he had condensed it into a shield.

  But the expected Thunderblast Bomb explosions didn’t occur, thanks to Lancelot.

  As Sedros used the scroll, the white light on Lancelot flared intensely. Only he had the reflexes, in that split second, to activate Divine Aegis. The white light covering his body was like a solid dike, standing firm against the frenzied assault of countless golden serpents. Simultaneously, Lancelot’s form accelerated sharply, turning, flying towards Aldric and Christine.

  Before this, Lancelot’s speed and skill seemed little different from the other two. But this sudden acceleration and turn transformed him into a white blur, narrowly avoiding the two Thunderblast Bombs now upon him.

  Sedros had launched the Thunderblast Bombs sequentially. First, two at Lancelot, then one each at Aldric and Christine. Thus, the bombs before the latter two were slightly slower.

  The white figure streaked through the ocean of golden lightning, like a stroke of dense ink on a golden canvas, instantly leaving a trail of white light.

  The white light, carrying the faint afterimage of a human form, flashed past Aldric and Christine. The ocean of mutated Chain Lightning had receded, leaving a blank space testifying to its incredible speed. So did the ground where the white figure passed—earth flew up, leaving a deep trench.

  The shattered Thunderblast Bombs dissipated into magical elements. Some, driven by inertia, struck the Temple Knights. The white light reformed into Lancelot’s figure not far from Aldric.

  He stopped abruptly. Lancelot sheathed his sword, the white light fading, his face etched with exhaustion.

  The two Thunderblast Bombs that missed Lancelot continued flying backward. Behind Lancelot, past the Blazing Wall, stood Cardinal Adela’s group.

  Only now did Adela tear his gaze from the injured Talise and Javi, rousing himself from Gru’s earth-shattering arrow throw. His combat experience was pitifully weak compared to the others. Only now did he realize he should have joined the fight immediately. But the raging Fire Wall blocked his view. Hesitating whether to dispel it, he saw two Thunderblast Bombs suddenly fly out from the wall, heading straight for him.

  "In the Lord's radiance, return to the origin!" Adela raised a hand. A white light shot from it, striking one Thunderblast Bomb. The bomb dissolved in the white light like a snowball under the scorching sun. Though his reaction was inadequate, as a Cardinal, his magical prowess was unmatched by ordinary mages. The high-level Dispel Magic was executed cleanly.

  But only one bomb was dispelled. The other still flew towards Cardinal Adela.

  Wilskey drew his bow again, nocking an exquisitely small arrow carved from magical crystal. The bowstring released. The crystal arrow shot into the hurtling Thunderblast Bomb, shattering. Amidst the flying crystal shards, the final Thunderblast Bomb too shattered.

  Beyond the Fire Wall, Christine and the now-mobile Aldric, after a brief daze, charged forward again. The silver Iron Feather great sword became a screen of light, carrying the fear of having just returned from death's door, along with fighting spirit and killing intent, swinging towards Sedros.

  Sedros was retreating rapidly, but his speed was nothing compared to the Temple Knights’. The screen of silver light followed closely.

  Aldric didn’t charge Sedros; he charged Gru. Though weaponless and keenly aware of this opponent’s terror, he had to engage him, buying Christine the time to kill her target. That one had to be eliminated. A mage who could face three Temple Knights at close range, force a continent-renowned Paladin to use Divine Aegis, and exhaust himself saving two others—if given a moment to breathe, if distance was created, he would be terrifying as an opponent or as support.

  "Get out of the way." Gru barely glanced at Aldric, casually throwing a punch. Aldric met it with his own fist.

  Fists collided. A loud thud. Gru staggered, retreating two steps.

  Aldric stumbled back three steps. His fist was barely recognizable. But he didn’t pause. He turned and lunged at Gru again. Though no match for Gru and weaponless, as a Temple Knight, he could still desperately hold him.

  At that moment, the tidal wave-like silver sword light reached Sedros. He had nowhere left to retreat. Without magic, he was just an ordinary old man. Though still enhanced by dozens of auxiliary spells, hardly helpless, under a Temple Knight’s sword, he was little different from a chicken.

  Slaying such a masterful mage filled Christine with a certain excitement. He could almost feel the sensation of that aged body shattering under his blade. He doubted not the lethality of this strike. In Nighon, this sword had cloven massive Minotaurs in two hundreds of times. He clearly saw Sedros’s originally vigorous face twist slightly in the fear of death.

  Gru and Aldric exchanged two more blows. Now, it wasn’t combat; it was a mindless brawl with no defense. Gru retreated two more steps, blood trickling from his lips.

  Aldric didn’t retreat. But the blood from his mouth and nose wasn’t trickling or flowing—it was spurting. Blood even seeped from his eyes and nose. His blood-stained Radiant Battleplate now looked like cheap common plate armor. Two massive dents marked his chest. Even someone ignorant of anatomy could see at least ten ribs were broken, half likely puncturing organs. Yet he still stood. He still glared at Gru with eyes capable of killing ten bulls, radiating fighting spirit, poised to fight. Outwardly, he bore no resemblance to a noble, sacred, mighty Temple Knight. Instead, he resembled a freshly created undead.

  "Stop!" A small voice cried out from the periphery. But such a cry would never make Christine retract his killing blow. The outcome seemed certain. Gru was held, Sedros apparently doomed.

  But then, the situation reversed. A reversal utterly unexpected by all.

  The sword didn’t fall on Sedros. Instead, after a piercing screech of metal, Christine’s form was sent flying backward. He landed stumbling, clutching his nose, his face contorted in pain. His once high, handsome nose bridge seemed broken, blood flowing freely.

  To inflict such harm on a Temple Knight? Not the unarmed Sedros. It was the person now standing beside Sedros. Not just Christine, but Lancelot too stared at this person in disbelief. Even Sedros looked astonished. It was Ethan, who had been lying motionless on the ground like trash.

  "Sorry, I was a bit late." Ethan glanced apologetically at the shaken Sedros. He pulled a tooth embedded in his forehead—it belonged to a Temple Knight.

  Sedros exhaled, touching his own forehead where much hair had been severed by the near-fatal sword light. The feeling of just returning from death’s door was incredibly pleasant. He gave Ethan a slightly odd expression: "Better late than never."

  Christine’s gaze at Ethan held not just surprise, but mostly anger.

  Lancelot’s binding method wasn’t just magic; it was infused with fighting spirit. Even the current Pope couldn’t break it. So Christine was confident. In his mind, the figure lying on the ground was no different from a rock or a dead branch—completely ignored. When that "rock" suddenly leaped up and parried his certain-kill blow, anyone would be shocked, even disoriented. The "rock" seized the chance to smash its forehead hard into the Temple Knight’s face.

  This painful but non-lethal, non-injurious attack wasn’t Ethan’s intent. He’d wanted to exploit the surprise to decapitate the Temple Knight. Unfortunately, the gap in skill was real. While feigning death, he couldn’t find a good opening. It seemed that no matter how he struck, the silver great sword could parry or even counter. So, at the critical moment, he had to全力 parry the blow, delivering a thug-like headbutt as a bonus.

  A dull thud. Aldric’s body, under Gru’s kick, flew through the air trailing blood, landing heavily beyond the Blazing Wall. Blood gushed from his mouth, nose, and armor seams, instantly staining the surrounding grass crimson. His body seemed like a blood-soaked sponge, leaking excess fluid. He still struggled to rise on the ground. But even his indomitable will couldn’t overcome broken bones and torn muscles. He opened his mouth to speak, only to cough up a piece of organ.

  Cardinal Adela and several Templars skilled in magic rushed over. Several mid-level healing spells, plus a top-tier healing spell cast by Adela himself, finally stabilized Aldric’s near-fatal wounds. At least his life was no longer in danger.

  The Fire Wall had extinguished. The brief but heart-stopping exchange reached a temporary pause. The battle’s development had surprised everyone. Both sides glared at each other like predators.

  "Everyone, stop!" That same voice from the outer elves shouted again. But no one paid it any mind. Not a single eye showed any intention of stopping.