Asa finally managed to resist the urge to use the teleportation scroll.
Although Vadenina's promise was indeed tempting, and he was very curious about this classmate—having learned about her past as a human and feeling less wary about her—he still didn't head to the Dehya Valley.
The reason was simple: the scroll wouldn't expire if left there, but once he truly went to the Dehya Valley, he might never return. Regardless of whether it was the paradise Vadenina described, even if it truly were heaven, he had to be cautious before venturing there. Someone once said: while it might indeed be a good place, once you go, you can never return; therefore, it's best to delay your departure as long as possible.
The Dehya Valley was certainly not a real paradise. But if one went there, it would be impossible to live a normal life again. Besides, that was the Necromancer Guild; no matter how sweetly Vadenina spoke, the guild's notorious reputation over the centuries was enough to make even the boldest individuals think twice.
However, now he had this fallback. This made the task from Bishop Ronis seem less annoying. Knowing he could escape this environment at any moment allowed him to adopt a more relaxed attitude. Perhaps he would say goodbye to his life as a cleric here and to Bishop Ronis, the Magic Academy, and the capital tomorrow. Spending a bit more time here to observe wouldn't be a bad idea.
According to Bishop Ronis's arrangements, he would set off to Airi in a few days. Asa found it somewhat amusing that the bishop acted like a seasoned politician, scheming to gain political capital, while the two he appointed to catch the real culprit were, in a sense, the true villains.
Yet he didn't need to worry about how to carry out these plans. Bishop Ronis must have already briefed Rodhart on everything. It seemed he was just the main character waiting for the finished meal to be served up like a restaurant patron.
In the big house, Asa lazily packed his belongings for the impending journey. Sandru, too, was lazily fiddling with several skulls on the stone platform.
"I say, what are you planning to do now?" Sandru suddenly asked. "Are you staying here, or are you heading to the Dehya Valley?"
Asa was little bit surprised. The old man rarely initiated discussions about serious matters. Watching Sandru's slow, lethargic movements, he still appeared half-alive and seemingly just remembered to mention it casually.
Asa sighed and replied in a similarly half-hearted manner, "I don't really know what to do…"
He had indeed been very confused during this period. He is not an indecisive person, but what he was facing now is not an easy choice. It is not as simple as picking up which type of bread for breakfast. Although he felt gloomy and annoyed, the tasks were infused with the bishop's hope and supposedly related to significant plans for the peace and security of the continent. Moreover, the only other option wasn't any easier; according to Bishop Ronis, it also pertained to the safety of the continent. Even if he felt no sense of responsibility or interest in significant matters, facing such weighty choices was not something he could simply shrug off.
Sandru sighed and shook his head. "You're such a whiny little brat. How could Ronis think of making you take on the role of a hero and bear such responsibilities? His mind must be going soft…"
Asa shrugged. "I never wanted to be a hero or take on anything."
Sandru shook his head, clicking his tongue. "At least you have some good insight. This is the most arduous job in the world. High risk, immense pressure, irregular working hours—exhausting and mentally taxing. It may look glorious, but it's utterly bullshit. It's truly the most loathsome job in the world. Plus, not only do you need to be quick-witted, but you also need to be daring, decisive, ruthless, and shrewd. Just look at how you're struggling with this minor issue, and you'll know you absolutely can't handle it."
Suddenly, someone knocked loudly on the big wooden door, and a female voice called out, "Is anyone there?"
Asa recognized the voice. However, he was curious about how she found her way here. He walked over to the door and told Sandru, "It's someone looking for me."
Unexpectedly, Sandru's eyes widened as he said, "Just because you heard a woman's voice, you think it's for you? How do you know it's not for me?" He walked over and opened the wooden door a crack, poking his head out to ask in a seemingly gentle voice, "Is someone looking for me?"
However, the outcome was sure to disappoint him. He turned back to Asa and shouted, "That corpse-moving brat, someone's looking for you."
Asa approached the door and saw that the person knocking was indeed the prostitute Selena. He frowned and asked, "How did you find your way here?"
Not liking to attract attention, he was a prominent figure among the clerics, but that status was limited to the Magic Academy and the upper echelons of the court. There was no way someone like Selena, a commoner, would recognize him. He had never disclosed his true identity or where he lived to her.
"Pfft, how would I know?" Selena replied, still dressed in extravagant attire and wearing a casual, flirtatious expression. "I saw you come this way last time."
"Really?" Asa frowned, still feeling puzzled. Even a skilled thief would find it challenging to follow him, let alone her. "What do you want with me?"
The young prostitute's eyes widened. "Can't I look for you? Anyway, I have something to discuss with you. Come out…"
Suddenly, she caught sight of the interior and jumped back, exclaiming, "W-What is this place?"
Sandru, making a face beside her, said, "He's my little assistant moving corpses. This is the royal capital's morgue; all the dead people are under my care, and you'll also be under my care in the future."
The young prostitute's face went pale as she pressed a hand to her chest, half-exposed outside. "You nearly scared me to death!"
"What do you want from me? Do you want to come in and talk slowly?" Asa asked.
"Come out quickly! I have something important that I need your help with. Just follow me!" Selena ignored Sandru and pulled Asa to go outside. Sandru shouted from behind, "Don't worry; if you die, I'll take care of the aftermath."
"Just don't ask what it's for; just come with me," the young prostitute said, linking her arm with Asa's and dragging him along. The big house was already close to the edge of the city, and soon they reached the outskirts of the capital, gradually moving farther away. Upon reaching a dense grove, Selena pulled Asa directly inside.
The grove was quiet, and Asa had no idea what was happening. Suddenly, his arm brushed against Selena's chest. He glanced at her rosy face and had a sudden wild thought: could it be she wanted to bring him here to do that…? He quickly said to her, "I'll tell you, now's not the time for that; I still have to…"
As he spoke, a strange feeling surged within him.
It felt like ice-cold water was pouring into his body through every pore. This was a direct instinct of danger and killing intent!
Asa's spirit tightened suddenly, going rigid. However, his body went limp.
Almost the instant he sensed the danger, a more tangible and strange feeling began to spread through his body.
His feet suddenly felt very heavy, not just heavy but also numb and weak. Once this wave of weakness began, it spread through his body like wildfire, rapidly rendering his muscles soft and sore. As his feet felt heavy, his waist couldn't support his weight and began to bend, and the weakness surged to his chest, making it hard to breathe, while his heart seemed to lose its will to beat. His head felt both heavy and large, and he felt dizzy.
The speed at which this feeling spread through his body was astonishing; when he first felt it in his feet, he had just blinked, but as soon as his eyelids closed, he became too weak to even open them.
This was a dual curse of weakness and dullness, and the level of it was so high that even at the Magic Academy, no more than five people could cast such a swift and effective curse. Even a horse could be rendered incapable of standing in the blink of an eye by such a spell.
At that moment, the oblivious Selena was still pulling on his arm, leading him further into the grove.
How careless. He had fallen into a deadly trap so simply and foolishly. While Selena posed no threat or hostility toward him, he had let down his guard, forgetting that she might be used by someone else.
His head was already spinning, but Asa still heard the sound of five swords simultaneously slicing through the air. Even though his body felt weak and limp, his mind hardened sharply in the face of danger, becoming sharp and distinct.
The five people seemed to emerge from the ground, suddenly appearing from five different directions. The five long swords flashed like lightning in the air, which had been completely silent just moments ago, and in an instant, they were slashing toward him with a speed that was faster than the blink of an eye.
The speed, angle, and timing of these five swords were flawless. Not to mention that he was currently feeling weak, with numb feet and dizziness, and on top of that, Selena was holding onto his arm.
Asa swung his arm and used all his remaining strength to throw the oblivious Selena away. She flew out just as the sword light created a gap. But this delay meant that Asa had no chance to dodge himself.
The five directions of the attack were perfectly coordinated. The timing, speed, and even the slight tremors in the wrists of the five swordsmen echoed each other; these five swords formed a net. No matter whether he advanced, retreated, or dodged to the left or right, this sword net would quickly close in on him, creating multiple openings in his body. And he no longer had the strength to evade.
With a loud 'boom', Asa was thrown into the air by the shockwave of his own fireball, while the five swordsmen below were also blown away by the explosion. This was a last resort he remembered in a moment of peril. Weakness and sluggishness could only affect his body, but they could not restrain the release of magic.
He could feel the muscles in his back almost collapsing from the shock; a rib was broken, and a sweet taste filled his throat as he spat out a mouthful of blood. The force of the fireball wasn't particularly strong; his magical power could still condense immediately. Asa pressed his hand against himself, first to dispel the spell, then to heal.
His injuries improved, and the weakness spell was dispelled. In mid-air, he saw the ambush that had been prepared for him below.
There weren't many people—only twelve, eleven swordsmen with long swords and one mage. But Asa felt an almost desperate sense of crisis.
The positions of these twelve people were precise, allowing them to surround him efficiently and launch the most effective attacks. They could completely conceal their presence, and even in such a premeditated ambush, they could release their killing intent only at the moment they struck. These twelve people were undoubtedly top-tier.
Almost at the same time Asa began to descend, the three nearest swordsmen flew toward him in his direction. They were not shocked by the unexpected dodge and explosion; they acted immediately with the most effective attack, without any hesitation or delay, decisively and resolutely. This was the demeanor of masters.
Asa was still in the air; the first sword that arrived was almost touching his clothes. He grabbed it, firmly holding the sword body, twisted, and snatched it away.
The feeling upon grabbing was effortless; the swordsman had already abandoned the sword when Asa took it. One cannot overpower a hand gripping the sword body while holding the hilt; one must let go when it's time. When Asa's twisting strength was depleted, and his arm was already weak, he grasped the hilt again and thrust it forward with renewed force, striking again when it was time to strike. This was truly the mark of a true master.
The power from his arm had been exhausted, and the sword in his hand was striving to break free and thrust forward. Asa gripped tightly, the sword body shattered in his palm—broken sword fragments continued to stab toward his face, while two other swords raced in. Asa landed on his feet, waving his hand, the fragments of the broken sword flying toward the faces of the two swordsmen.
Thud. Selena, whom Asa had thrown away, fell to the ground, dazed.
The two swordsmen facing the incoming sword fragments did not dodge, did not lower their heads, and even their eyes did not blink. The two long swords still thrust forward without hesitation. They understood that just after landing, Asa was the least able to dodge or defend, so they chose this method to give him a moment to catch his breath. Their actions expressed the most important factor in teamwork—recklessly seizing any opportunity. They were not just masters; they were truly well-honed warriors.
Thud. The two long swords successfully pierced Asa's body. They were extremely fast, precise, and stable, and Asa could only rotate his body as the sword tip entered, trying to divert the blades away from fatal areas. But these two swords left two long, deep gashes on him, blood immediately gushing out. His clothes were soaked.
One swordsman who successfully hit his target fell straight down, the broken sword fragment piercing through his eye and almost bursting out the back of his head. Asa's throw was not merely a simple delay tactic to scare; it was calculated. The other swordsman's face was now filled with fragments of the broken sword, each piece penetrating deep enough to see the bone, almost shredding his face to pieces.
On that broken face, there remained only a complete, steadfast, and cold expression, as if it were merely the flesh and bones of someone unrelated to him. The eyes above were fixed solely on Asa's body, all their spirit focused on how to control their weapon to leave more effective marks on this body.
This ironclad will was the true fighting strength of a warrior. In a life-and-death struggle, the most lethal factor is not the weakness of the body but the hesitation of the spirit; only those who can wholeheartedly stab through the opponent's chest even when their throat is cut will have the greatest chance of victory.
The sword that had just swept past Asa's body slashed horizontally again—blood splattered, deep enough to see bone. But the swordsman was momentarily stunned because he had struck his companion's body. Asa finally seized the arm of the swordsman who had thrust the broken sword at him, crushing his wrist bone while pulling the swordsman over to shield himself from the attack.
Facing such skilled opponents, the price of taking those two swords and capturing one of them was worthwhile. Using the body of the captured swordsman as both weapon and shield was a highly effective tactic Asa had summarized from multiple situations of facing many with few. Such a large shield was very effective for protection, and seeing a companion's flesh flying under his attack was a huge blow to anyone's morale.
The swordsman who struck his companion hesitated for just a moment, then immediately raised his sword and struck again. Asa continued to pull the swordsman he had captured to block this blow. In terms of strength, reaction, and physical qualities, he had an absolute advantage, allowing him to use his opponent as a living shield.
Crack. The sword tip mercilessly sliced into muscle and severed bone, cutting off the arm of the swordsman captured by Asa at the shoulder.
This sword was clean and decisive, severing his companion's hand and effortlessly pulling him closer. He could see that this companion would face dire consequences if he continued in Asa's grip. Without hesitation, he decisively and ruthlessly chopped off his companion's arm as if cutting wood, saving his life while completely nullifying Asa's intentions.
The swordsman with the severed arm's face had already twisted, but he did not make a sound, staggering toward the mage's position to seek healing while clutching his severed arm.
Asa held the severed hand in his grip and was stunned, his heart sinking.
Each person here could be considered a top-tier expert. Their swordsmanship was unquestionable; what mattered most was their will, fighting spirit, and judgment skills, all of which were impeccable. Such opponents were extremely difficult to handle even in a one-on-one situation, let alone with their cooperation perfectly synchronized.
Just as he gathered magical energy to cast a healing spell, a wave of intense weakness swept through his body again, forcing him to switch to a dispel spell.
After the effect of the dispel spell, his body still felt a bit weak; this was true weakness. The wounds from those two swords were deep, and blood continued to flow.
The mage still maintained a relatively safe distance from Asa, not in a hurry to use any offensive spells. The distance and the trees made any direct attack unlikely to hit, and larger spells carried the risk of injuring allies. So, he kept using the highly effective weakness and sluggishness spells. This was sufficient; Asa had to use all his spell-casting opportunities on dispelling; anyone affected by such a weakness spell would lose their fighting ability.
Though this was the least number of enemies he had encountered in an ambush, it was also the most perilous.
At the same time he dispelled the magic, the five swordsmen who had attacked first, along with the other three, quickly formed a circle around Asa. Everyone could see that this opponent could not be dealt with by a random individual attack; they had to use the most effective attack methods. The swordsmen took their positions, and the nine began to attack simultaneously.
This was undoubtedly a formation meticulously studied and refined through thousands of battles, where the nine swords worked independently yet intertwined, creating a massive web of sword energy descending upon him. At the same time, the deadly weakness spell surged within him, and his tense muscles quickly relaxed and went limp.
This was indeed the most dangerous moment, and it might even be the last.
Asa suddenly gathered all his spirit and magical power, focusing it to a single point, and then unleashed it like a madman as he had done before. The surge of strength and willpower within him instantly pushed out the weakening spell, and he let out a cry that barely resembled a human scream as he charged toward the encroaching web of swords.
He could even feel how the surrounding air was being torn apart by the sword tips, splitting and howling. The sensation of meditation had reached its peak, yet even so, he could not perceive any gap through which he could pass. Although there were only nine thin blades, they seemed to fill all the space within a radius of several steps. To the eye, there appeared to be plenty of room to maneuver, but the sword energy and momentum were impenetrable. Every direction, every angle, every potential leap was a dead end. The steps, movements, and even breaths of the nine swordsmen exhibited a subtle, shared rhythm. No matter how he tried to dodge in the center, the nine swords would respond like a choreographed dance, coordinated and efficient, with attacks that would intercept, restrain, pierce, slash, and sweep from all sides. He could not evade completely. The moment he was struck by any sword or hesitated even for an instant, the others would immediately follow up, turning him into a pile of meat.
Asa instinctively charged at one of the swordsmen. This was the strongest link in the chain—the sword energy and momentum of this swordsman were the densest, and the entire sword net's movements revolved around him. He was also the weakest link; he was the main attacker and orchestrator of this sword formation. If Asa could defeat him, the formation would surely reveal a flaw, perhaps even collapse.
There was no room for retreat. With no path for escape, he decided to carve out a path through sheer force. He had always thrived under pressure and heightened danger; the tension and risk catalyzed the primal instincts and vitality within his soul.
Faced with his charge, the swordsman immediately retreated. Though he stepped back, his sword energy grew even stronger. The two swordsmen on either side also retreated while closing in. The sword energy and momentum of the three converged, forming a swirling vortex of sword energy before Asa.
The combined sword momentum of the three elite swordsmen was like a mass of steel. Even if a bulldozer charged in, it would be reduced to scrap. So, the three of them halted, waiting for the rest of the sword net to close in.
However, Asa's momentum did not wane. In his heart, he entertained no thought of retreat. As the overwhelming sword energy loomed, his fighting spirit blazed like a red-hot spear.
He did not use magic; he was already unable to wield magic. The fighting spirit, vitality, and desire to fight surged within him, merging the magic power into this raw strength. This primal power scorned any technique and ignored efficiency. He threw the most direct weapon at them—his own fists. He intended to use his flesh and blood to carve out a path for his survival.
Before such a direct, honest, and unadulterated attack, all changes and tricks became pale and useless. The three long swords stabbed toward Asa's fist from three directions with equal speed, force, and momentum.
This was a collision. Asa's entire fighting energy and speed clashed with the sword energy and momentum of the swordsmen.
At the moment of contact, all three swords shattered simultaneously, producing a crisp sound.
With the sword energy parting the way, the sword tips pierced through the fighting energy enveloping Asa's fist, and the skin where the sword tips struck instantly ruptured. The sound of broken bones and shattered swords echoed together.
The energies of the sword, fighting spirit, and impact entangled and released all at once. In a contest of equals, the weapons could no longer withstand the force, and the three swordsmen's grips broke, causing their swords to clatter to the ground.
Blood splattered from Asa's shattered fist, and he let out a scream. Although it still resembled a hand, it felt as if it had been trampled by cattle, a rag of flesh.
The force of his charge was spent in that collision, and his body came to a halt. The three swordsmen closest to him had nearly touched his clothes, but now they were merely three swords. The once overwhelming sword net collapsed the moment the three swordsmen in front of him fell. The remaining six swords became isolated.
When the nearest three swords pierced his back, Asa finally gathered enough strength to start fleeing.
His remaining strength was not enough to handle six such swordsmen, let alone withstand a similar sword formation, but it was sufficient for escape. Although blood had soaked through his clothes, he still had an absolute advantage in stamina, and the lingering fighting spirit within him could temporarily resist spells like weakening.
Asa leaped over the three swordsmen in front and sprinted toward the edge of the forest. If he could make it to the capital, he would be safe. After all, he was a dignified priest, and no one could dare to pursue him in broad daylight.
Just as he was about to escape deeper into the forest, he suddenly sensed an unusual sound coming from behind—a peculiar sound that did not carry the sharpness of a sword cutting through the air, but rather a dull, blunt sound. This sound wasn't deep; it was just fast, as if being hit wouldn't cause any harm.
Asa leaped up, and something behind him swept past his feet. It was an ice ball, slightly larger than a head, rolling rapidly forward. Asa could clearly sense the magical energy swirling inside the ice ball. In mid-air, he raised his hands, bent down, and curled his legs to protect his head, face, chest, and abdomen.
The ice ball exploded. There was no mighty explosion like a fireball; instead of a shockwave, it scattered and shot out solid ice fragments, creating a series of resonant sounds of impact and penetration. The trees in a small area were instantly broken and scattered; these ice shards, propelled by magical energy, had piercing power comparable to crossbow bolts. Several branches as thick as a human arm fell, and some thinner trees were also pierced through by the ice chunks.
Asa curled up like those tree trunks and fell straight down from mid-air. Many of the ice shards had penetrated deep into his bones. If he hadn't tensed his muscles and used all the remaining fighting spirit for defense, these small, water-based ice projectiles could have easily pierced through his chest and abdomen.
This water-element 'Ice Burst' was not a small spell. As long as the magician's level had not reached the transcendent mastery of someone like Bishop Ronis or Theodorus, they would need to adjust their magical energy and take a few breaths before casting again. Moreover, this wide-area destructive spell should delay the steps of the several swordsmen behind him, so Asa immediately sprang back to his feet after hitting the ground heavily; he had to keep running.
However, the sharp pain in his right leg and left shoulder immediately shattered the momentum he had just gathered for running as two long swords pierced through his thigh and shoulder. Then, four hands and two other long swords surged onto his body. Asa was instantly immobilized.
The cold sword tips on either side had broken through his skin, stopping just beside the carotid artery. A slight downward push would make blood spray out like a fountain. The four hands firmly and accurately grasped several vital points on his limbs, locking his joints. This was certainly a technique honed through countless practice and experience. The swords piercing through his muscles meant that no matter how much fighting spirit he had, he could only submit, dirty and defeated, under the pressure of those swordsmen.
Everything happened too quickly. From the moment he realized he had walked into an ambush, to dodging, retaliating, and trying to escape, it had taken no more than the time for a single deep breath.
However, Asa knew he wasn't entirely wronged; the swordsmen holding him down were also pierced by the ice fragments and were bleeding. When they faced the earlier 'Ice Burst,' they did not retreat but only slightly shielded their faces. If it weren't for the armor on their bodies having sufficient defensive power, they would have surely fallen.
Asa had to admit that no matter how skilled he was, facing such skilled opponents who coordinated perfectly and were willing to risk their lives to achieve their goals was indeed beyond his capability.
The weakness from losing strength made every wound on his body feel even more painful, and blood continued to flow. The two long swords penetrating his shoulder and thigh nearly pinned him to the ground, and one of them seemed to have pierced through bone; the pain was so intense that he felt as if even his bone marrow was seeping out along with the sword.
"What are you doing? Do you know I'm a priest of the Magic Academy? What do you mean by this? Are you rebelling?" Even Asa himself felt that his words were boring, cliché, and powerless, but he could only hope for the effect of this official tone.
The swordsmen showed no reaction to his words; their expressions did not change, and the sword tips remained closely pressed against his blood vessels, while those strong hands continued to exert their control over his joints and vital points. The distant magician and the one-armed swordsman slowly approached, but none of them spoke. This group seemed like machines for fighting and action, completely unresponsive to anything else.
But suddenly, a person appeared further away.
This person had been cautiously watching from a distance, ready to escape at any moment. Even when Asa was pinned down, he still didn't dare to come out until he heard Asa's voice, realizing that he was now completely safe and victorious. He jumped out from behind the trees, his voice sounding as if he were singing in his excitement: "How about that? This time, I finally caught you! I've won! Finally, you're the one eating dirt. I told you, if you dared to oppose me, you were asking for death."
"It's really you, that bastard. I should have killed you long ago," Asa glared fiercely at the smug son of the prime minister.
"Oh dear." Selena, who had been thrown aside and dizzy from Asa's earlier throw, finally stood up, but the bloody scene in front of her instantly left her stunned. She stumbled and crawled to the prime minister's son, trembling as she asked, "Didn't you say you just wanted to find a few people to give him a beating? How did it end up like this?"
That morning, this noble son had found her and said he had a lucrative business proposition for her—to lure the young man who often sought her out to the woods outside the city and even told her his address.
At that time, she was curious, but the noble son explained that he had some minor grievances with this guy and wanted to find someone to teach him a lesson, but it was inconvenient to do so in the city, so he had to find a way to lure him out.
She felt something was off, but the noble son immediately assured her that he wouldn't harm his life or break any bones, just wanted to teach him a lesson to vent some frustration. He handed her ten gold coins immediately and promised to give her another ten afterward.
Twenty gold coins; that was enough to ensure her livelihood for life. Besides, if it was just a beating, it didn't seem like much to him, so Selena had cheerfully led Asa along.
But now, with blood everywhere and two swords piercing his body, it seemed they were about to take his life. Trembling, Selena fished out several gold coins from her pocket and, with a sobbing tone, approached Modo, saying, "Here's the money back, and I don't want the other ten gold coins. I beg you, let him go! I'll take him to see a doctor; he'll die like this!"
"Go to hell!" Modo slapped the prostitute down to the ground. He had spent quite a bit of effort convincing her this morning to bring Asa out without arousing suspicion. For a prime minister's son to conspire with a prostitute was truly shameful if it got out. But since his father strictly forbade him from taking people out for nonsense, he had to handle things personally.
Selena immediately hugged Modo's leg on the ground, continuing to cry and plead, "Please let him go! I'll give you money!"
"Get lost!" The prime minister's son kicked Selena away forcefully, then drew a knife and waved it a few times. "Foolish woman, I'll deal with you slowly after I take care of this guy."
Modo approached Asa with the knife, but he shuddered at the look Asa shot him. He hesitated, seeming reluctant to be scared but also feeling genuine fear. He ordered the swordsmen, "First, cut off his hands and feet."
The swordsmen remained still. The magician finally spoke up; he seemed to be the leader among them. His face bore the typical austere demeanor of a reclusive practitioner as he said, "Lord Modo, this target has completely lost the ability to resist. I suggest we temporarily detain him and wait for a trial before executing him."
"What? Are you doubting me?" The prime minister's son shouted, slightly agitated.
The magician's voice was dry like pieces of dead wood, but it carried weight: "We don't know who he is, nor do we care. We simply obey orders. What I just said was merely a suggestion."
Modo took out a letter of order and a seal from his bosom, shaking them. "You saw it; this is the token of your captain, and the commission states clearly that all affairs are under my command. You just need to follow my orders; just do as I say."
"I'm only making a suggestion," the magician repeated dryly. "A suggestion."
"No need for suggestions; just follow my orders." The prime minister's son, mindful of the reputation of the Knights Templar, suppressed his anger. He glanced at Asa, initially wanting to torment him a bit, but now it seemed that these big shots from the Knights Templar were not easy to control. To avoid prolonged complications, he needed to finish this guy off quickly.
"I'm going to take a piss now. If you drink it, I'll give you a quick death." He looked triumphantly at the opponent who had repeatedly embarrassed him and made him suffer, feeling victorious that he had finally pinned him down, reaching to unbuckle his belt. "But even if you don't drink it, I'll still pour it all over you. Do you know what it smells like to pour urine on a wound? How about it? Are you convinced? Am I powerful? Do you want to beg for mercy? Anything else to say? Hmm?"
"Yes." Asa shouted weakly. "Damn it, aren't you going to help? Are you just going to watch me get slaughtered like this?"