Chapter 156: Turn·Continued (Part 1)

  "If you don't want to die, come over and help. You two can still manage to hold off two Temple Knights." Ethan shouted to Hilton and the others in the distance.

  Hilton and his companions immediately moved closer. The druid transformed into a werewolf again. Though Lancelot had said earlier he wasn't interested in them, that was likely just words. Besides, the Cardinal-dressed figure behind him probably held real authority. To the Church, both druids and Drow were absolute heretics, and Drow, mostly dwelling in Nighon, were considered an even more evil race than beastmen.

  "Boss, so you were playing dead all along. Damn, that's brilliant. I knew even a Paladin couldn't take you down in one go. Too bad you didn't seize the chance to kill one." Hilton wielded two punch daggers, waving them menacingly at the Templars opposite. This was a straightforward, simple-minded fellow. He rushed over at Ethan's call without considering the consequences.

  Ethan smiled wryly. When Lancelot's sword sent the vast fighting spirit mixed with magic into his body, though he couldn't move, his mind and senses remained intact. He had tried using the Meditation Technique to break this bondage, but the power of the fighting spirit was not only ingenious but overwhelmingly strong. He couldn't dispel it with all his strength.

  But when Lancelot and the others began fighting Sedros, a strange feeling enveloped him. It was peculiar—faint, vibrant, and strangely familiar. His body immediately resonated with this sensation.

  It wasn't a specific part or area that felt the change; every minute part of his body felt that burgeoning vitality. As if invisible trees were sprouting, growing, and strengthening within every cell. Meanwhile, the mixed power of fighting spirit and magic occupying his body rapidly dissipated. It wasn't dispelled; it was assimilated. The burgeoning vitality within him absorbed Lancelot's fighting spirit and magic without leaving a trace, and his body instantly regained freedom.

  This change occurred only within him. Outsiders saw nothing unusual, and no one paid attention to him lying on the ground. Thus, he had the chance to repel Christine when she was completely off guard.

  "Everyone, stop! Please listen to me!" The voice shouted for the third time. Ethan glanced over—it was Elven Elder Lloyd. Beside him were Luya, holding the Leaves of the World Tree, and the female elven patrol warrior with the black longbow. Leading the elves, they had surrounded the fiercely battling group from a distance, forming an impenetrable circle.

  Unfortunately, for the Temple Knights and Cardinal's group, no words were more valuable than eliminating or capturing the three opponents. After all, their side still held a clear advantage. So they showed no intention of stopping. Sedros's side naturally didn't relax their vigilance to listen to anyone either. The Elven Elder's shouts seemed particularly feeble and powerless.

  Though completely unheeded, Lloyd's face showed no panic or confusion. His gaze shifted between the sword-drawn adversaries as he whispered instructions to the female patrol warrior beside him. In contrast, Luya looked at them with an anxious expression.

  Ethan's gaze fell on the Leaves of the World Tree in her hand, and he froze for a moment. He understood where the feeling that freed him from Lancelot's bondage had come from.

  Adela stood up, wiping sweat from his temple. Even with his top-tier white magic prowess on the continent, it took great effort, along with several Templars, to stabilize Aldric's injuries. He surveyed the situation on both sides and gave a cold smile. Even he could see that Sedros and Gru's combat power was nearly depleted. Though his side had one seriously and one lightly injured Temple Knight, and Lancelot had expended considerable energy, they still had two Temple Knights and ten uninjured Templars. Crucially, he himself remained.

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  As a Cardinal, his role in battle was undoubtedly vital. But the previous exchanges had been too swift. He hadn't even fully engaged his mind in combat. First, a Fire Wall divided their sight; then, figures clashed and separated like startled hares, fighting spirit crisscrossing, magic flying. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Now, fully alert, even with just a Paralysis Spell, he could easily sway the battle. He didn't chant incantations. A ball of white light flowed and shone like mercury between his fingers, the long-gathered white magic poised to strike.

  Though just a brief moment to catch their breath, for a mage of Sedros's caliber, it was enough to recover a sliver of magic power. He stared unblinkingly at Adela, a layer of white magical light also gathering in his palm, ready to strike.

  Gru and Lancelot locked eyes. The collision of their gazes seemed to make everyone present feel the tension tightening their skin. Though both appeared weary, they were undeniably still the protagonists, the soul of this battle.

  The renewed combat began with the two casters. Cardinal Adela pointed a hand at Sedros from afar and shouted sharply: "Hold!" Sedros silently waved a hand. The simplest white magic, Purification, was cast simultaneously. The specks of the Paralysis Spell had just appeared in the air when they were dispelled.

  Adela's face darkened. He knew the Paralysis Spell was now useless. Though advantageous in battle, its flaw was enormous. The lowest-level Purification incantation, cast by someone of mid-level magic proficiency or higher, could dispel this high-tier spell of the same school. Normally, priests capable of such white magic wouldn't fight each other, and the Church strictly controlled its teaching. But occasionally, they did encounter unexpected enemies. He raised his hand again. A beam of white light shot toward Sedros. In the hands of an ordinary priest, Light Arrow could only harm undead; in his, it could incinerate a person.

  Sedros neither dodged nor blocked. He waved a hand. A small whirlwind kicked up dead leaves and soil from the ground, forming a barrier before him. This layer of light debris couldn't block a stone, yet it perfectly deflected this light-based attack.

  Under the white light's illumination, the barrier before Sedros ignited violently. The air instantly filled with the stench of burning. Several younger Templars nearby gasped in admiration. They all recognized the profound magic power and skill this spell represented. The level of white magic alone proved the Cardinal's position was no accident.

  But Adela's face grew increasingly grim. The two spells Sedros used to counter his attacks were the most basic, simplest magic—recoverable in the time of a single breath. Yet, his two offensive spells had been cast with near-full effort. The immense difference in magical control and combat experience was undeniable. Crucially, if this continued, his own magic would deplete, while Sedros's might even accumulate and recover.

  But he wasn't alone. Just as Adela and Sedros exchanged magical attacks, Wilskey drew his bow. The magic-breaking arrow once again tore through the air with a golden roar.

  His target was still Sedros, but the purpose was Gru. No one expected to eliminate Sedros in one strike, but if Gru moved to intercept or was distracted, Lancelot would have his chance.

  Sure enough, Gru, locked in a standoff with Lancelot, had to step before Sedros. This time, he didn't dare to catch the arrow with force but merely deflected it. The magic-breaking arrow veered upward, soaring over their heads into the sky. A corner of a tree-house was incidentally shattered into countless leaves and branches.

  Even with just a deflection, Gru couldn't help but step back. After all, this was a Temple Knight's strike; its force alone could rival a city-defense ballista. And he was truly fatigued, truly weary. In that moment, he inevitably exposed an opening.

  But the first to seize this opportunity wasn't Lancelot, nor any Templar or Temple Knight. It was Ethan, standing beside Gru.

  Opportunities are always fair; it's just a matter of whether one can grasp them and has the ability to do so. Just as Wilskey created an opening for Lancelot, Ethan seized the opening created for that opening. Or rather, he had been waiting for precisely such a chance.

  After repelling Christine, he had taken no further action. Neither Adela nor the Temple Knights paid him much heed. Aside from his inexplicable escape from Lancelot's bondage, his strength seemed far less worthy of attention than Sedros's or Gru's. But no one expected him to strike now, and his opening move was utterly unexpected.

  An immense roar instantly filled everyone's ears. Similar to the roar of Wilskey's magic-breaking arrow, yet larger, more imposing. For the object producing this sound was, in volume alone, over a hundred times larger than the arrow.

  A sphere, fully a person in diameter, instantly formed in Ethan's palm. Then, with commensurate power, majesty, and sound, it roared and rolled madly, sweeping toward the opposite side.

  This timing coincided precisely with Adela and Wilskey's attacks, delayed only by an instant—the moment after they launched their assaults.

  The air was filled with scorching heat. But at first glance, no one thought this massive sphere was a fireball—not because of its immense size, but its color. It wasn't the yellow or red of flame, but a nauseating blend of blue, gray, and green, like filth from gutters mixed with the mold of rotting corpses. Revolting, meaningless colors churned ceaselessly within the sphere.