The bald man stood outside the door, a cold smile curling at the corners of his lips.
Moonlight streamed through the cracked window, casting his face in a glow that revealed an expression of satisfaction.
His eyes gleamed with a chilling light, as if he had peered deep into Father Raphael's soul.
To him, all of this was nothing more than a carefully laid trap, and Father Raphael had already fallen into it.
"Everyone has a weakness, and I've found his most vulnerable spot."
This vulnerability stemmed not from Father Raphael's power, but from the deep-seated pain buried in his past—wounds that had never fully healed.
Raphael's immense strength might protect him from the world, but when faced with his own memories and scars, he was powerless.
As the bald man walked inside, preparing to strangle young Raphael, the dilapidated door suddenly burst open.
Bricks and dust flew in all directions.
The sneer on the bald man's face froze instantly.
His brow furrowed, and a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes.
A tall, imposing man strode in from the doorway.
His golden hair gleamed in the dim light, and his piercing blue eyes radiated an unquestionable authority.
His face was filled with displeasure, as though deeply disappointed by the scene before him.
"What are you doing?
They need you outside, and here you are, daydreaming?"
The man's deep voice was full of power, reverberating through the old house.
Young Raphael was confused, his mind still entangled in the emotional chaos of moments ago, unable to comprehend the sudden change in his surroundings.
Who was this man? And how did he know his name?
Before Raphael could react, the tall man grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the house without hesitation.
"They need you outside!"
Raphael hesitated for a moment, about to ask who this man was, but everything was happening too fast.
He was being dragged out of the house with no time to think.
The bald man's expression grew darker, his eyes filled with malice, and his anger became impossible to conceal.
He raised his hand, quickly gathering dark energy, planning to take advantage of the moment to kill the golden-haired, blue-eyed man in one strike.
"You're courting death!"
The bald man growled, the dark power surging in his palm, enveloping the entire space in a suffocating aura of darkness.
To his surprise, the golden-haired man showed no sign of panic.
Just as the bald man's hand was about to touch him, the golden-haired man moved with lightning speed, his hand shooting out to grab the bald man's wrist with astonishing swifness.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The golden-haired man's voice was as cold as ice.
In that instant, the bald man felt as though his wrist had been clamped by iron pincers, rendering him completely immobile.
His eyes widened in shock, unable to believe the sheer strength of the man before him.
He struggled with all his might, trying to pull his hand back, but the golden-haired man's grip was terrifyingly strong, leaving him no chance to escape.
The golden-haired man leaned in slightly, staring down at the bald man with icy, knife-like eyes.
"Who are you?"
His voice was low and carried an undeniable pressure, as if the very air had grown heavier.
Cold sweat began to bead on the bald man's forehead as he felt an unprecedented sense of oppression.
His heart pounded wildly, and terror spread throughout his body.
Never before had he encountered such overwhelming power—this man clearly wasn't ordinary.
"Who... who are you?"
The bald man's voice trembled, his mind no longer calm.
The golden-haired man didn't respond to his question.
Instead, golden flames ignited in his eyes.
It was as if the sun itself had been moved into his gaze.
The flames blazed with an incomprehensible power, scorching and fierce, capable of consuming everything in their path.
The bald man's pupils shrank in terror, his fear reaching its peak.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, a sharp pain shot through his wrist.
Crack!
The sound of bones breaking echoed through the room.
The bald man's wrist was crushed under the golden-haired man's immense strength.
Pain flooded his body, and cold sweat drenched his back in an instant.
"Ahhhh!"
The bald man let out a bloodcurdling scream, his face turning as white as a sheet.
His entire arm felt as if it had been ripped apart, but the golden-haired man didn't loosen his grip.
He held on firmly.
The golden flames continued to blaze in the man's eyes, casting a searing light on the bald man's face.
Young Raphael stared at the flames in the man's eyes, a wave of intense shock surging within him.
That fire carried an eerily familiar power, sparking long-buried memories in his mind.
"This is..."
A flash of panic crossed Raphael's face as a fragment of his past suddenly overlapped with reality.
He finally realized that everything he had seen was just an illusion.
"If only it were fake..."
He muttered to himself, as pain and longing intertwined in his heart.
In the next moment, Raphael's world shattered.
Father Raphael opened his eyes suddenly, returning to the battlefield.
Before him lay the blood-soaked ground, crackling with lightning and filled with the roars of magic beasts.
The air was still thick with the stench of death, and the tension of the ongoing battle snapped back into his consciousness.
The once-familiar battlefield was now clearly visible again, reappearing before his eyes.
Raphael's heartbeat slowly steadied.
He took a deep breath, his hand instinctively clenching as the tension he had been holding released with a long exhale.
"This illusion... was truly troublesome."
He muttered softly.
The battle continued around him.
The vulture, the bear, and the panther still watched Raphael and his companions with predatory eyes.
Waves rolled beneath their feet, and the air was thick with magical energy.
Raphael slowly came back to his senses, though a lingering weariness remained from his struggle to escape the illusion.
His body swayed slightly.
"How long was I out?"
His voice was low and hoarse as he addressed the four priests standing beside him.
Father Thomas, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, could barely hide the immense pressure he had been under.
"Half an hour."
Thomas panted, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Raphael frowned.
Half an hour was enough to change the course of an entire battle.
He glanced around and saw that the four priests were all visibly drained, their faces etched with fatigue and tension.
Their white robes were soaked through with sweat, and their magical auras were clearly unstable.
It was obvious that they had been defending him with everything they had while he was trapped in the illusion.
Father Weiss was panting heavily.
"We didn't dare wake you...
We feared interrupting you would cause even greater harm."
Raphael understood their concern, knowing that they had been using their magic to fend off attacks and hold back the three powerful magic beasts.
"Worked hard."
He spoke softly, but the gratitude in his voice was unmistakable.
The four priests were visibly exhausted, sweat pouring down their faces as their trembling hands held onto their magical staves.