Originally hoping to hear some pleas for mercy, Modo was taken aback. Following Asa's gaze, he saw an old man standing not far away, hands clasped behind his back, wearing an indifferent expression, as if none of these concerned him. He looked on with the same detached curiosity as a bystander at a public market.
Modo was slightly startled; he hadn't noticed when or how this old man had arrived. However, the faces of the knights from the Knights Templar and the magician, which had remained as unmoving as sculptures since the battle began, were now filled with shock. Even their hardened instincts, forged through countless life-and-death situations, had failed to detect how this old man had appeared. Even now that they were aware of his presence, they still felt no signs of life or movement from him, as if he were merely a phantom.
But a phantom would never speak. The old man seemed entirely oblivious to the presence of others, gazing down at Asa with a mocking smile, as if in conversation. "I thought you would be dead by now, but you seem like a pig on a chopping board, just waiting to be doused in urine."
"Bastard, save me, I'm going to die," Asa managed to utter, his voice weak as he mentally cursed Sandru. Blood continued to flow from the wounds on his shoulder and thigh, and the pain was unbearable.
Sandru's eyes widened, and he slowly replied, "You're the bastard here. How could I possibly save you? Everyone here can see I'm just a feeble old man; how could I deal with these armed brutes?"
The young nobleman stood there, completely dumbfounded, having no idea what was going on. The magician, however, immediately changed his expression, waved his hand, and shouted at the knights, "Kill him!"
The swords of the two knights, which were already poised near Asa's carotid artery, received the signal and pressed down with force.
But the swords merely glided across Asa's neck, cutting two shallow wounds before dropping to the ground. The knights' strength halted at their elbows, with no power left to continue.
Two arms fell silently to the ground, still gripping the swords.
The two knights screamed. But their cries were filled more with terror and dread than with pain.
Their focus had been entirely on the strange old man. Yet, the old man remained still, his hands leisurely clasped behind his back. The attack came from another person.
This man had been lying motionless nearby, but now he suddenly sprang up, leaping forward with the swiftness of a leopard and the slickness of a snake. In a strange, almost insect-like movement, he swung his longsword, cutting off the hands of the two swordsmen in one swift motion.
With unstoppable momentum, this man dashed past the knights, landing in an incredibly odd posture on the other side. His legs bent awkwardly like a grasshopper, twisted around his body with his hips and lower back nearly touching. The moment he landed, he twisted again, and with a spring of his contorted legs, straightened and shot back like lightning.
His posture in the air was bizarre, lacking any sense of balance or coordination, as if he were simply flung by his own twisted legs. In this bizarre but incredibly swift motion, his sword-holding right arm suddenly whipped out like a lash, extending and bending unnaturally. It looped around from behind his back and even reached out a long stretch from under his left armpit, slicing off the heads of the two swordsmen holding Asa in a single stroke.
The two who lost hands or the two who lost heads, all four knights were elite fighters. But under this creature's attack, they hardly had time to react. The speed and peculiarity of this man were overwhelming. It was impossible to discern any hints of his movements. He appeared to be some bizarre creature created from a blend of various types of insects, snakes, and lizards.
More critically, the sheer horror rendered the knights paralyzed, for the attacker was one of their own.
This man had just moments ago held a sword and bravely left a deep wound on Asa, but he had also been stabbed in the head by the piece of sword Asa had thrown. Now, he stood up, moving with even more speed, vigor, and intensity than before to save Asa.
His face was a chaotic mess of metal fragments; one eye was merely a bloody hole, while a streak of blood running down his cheek seemed to express sorrow for his own death. The other eye stared vacantly at the terrified onlookers. Now, he resembled a reptile, crawling on one hand and two feet, while his other elongated, deformed arm lay draped on the ground like a whip. It was clear that the bones inside had been shattered by his own movements.
Contrary to his dazed expression, his body swayed like a soft-bodied creature, as if gathering strength, then suddenly leaping toward the magician like a giant frog lunging for prey.
The knights finally shook off their shock. Years of training kicked in, restoring their combat awareness and steely resolve. The two who had lost one arm lunged toward the leaping monster, using their remaining limbs to cling tightly to its arms and legs. Even though they were no longer able to fight, they were determined to secure an opening for their componions to strike.
However, the leading magician entirely ignored this act of bravery and shouted to the remaining knights, "Run, scatter, report back to the captain, report back to the commander." The knights, who had been about to pounce, hesitated for just a moment before scattering and fleeing in all directions.
The magician was usually the most clear-headed, calm, and discerning individual, and his words were commands in the absence of the captain.
In that brief moment, the two knights who had lunged forward were already dead. Almost simultaneously as they wrapped their arms around the monster, this dead body suddenly opened his mouth wide. His mouth stretched so wide that it tore apart his cheeks, splitting down to his jaw. With this snake-like, distorted mouth, he bit off half of one knight's head in one swift motion. Then he tilted his head, slamming it into the other knight's head with a sound like a drumbeat, causing both heads to crumple. The two knights, their heads now unrecognizable, collapsed limply to the ground. But the monster's body stood firm, gazing with its remaining eye—half of which had popped out of its socket—at the fleeing knights, then lunged after them once more.
But he only lunged halfway before collapsing straight down. The magician had cast a spell of ice, freezing his lower body into a massive block of ice.
When hit the ground, the fully deformed and frozen monster seemed still struggling to pursue the swordsman. But upon realizing he could no longer move, he forcefully tore off his remaining intact hand, and threw it like a javelin by the other long and strange hand.
One of the fleeing swordsmen immediately fell, the hand piercing the back of his head like a tombstone.
The monster then grasped its neck, pulling off the half-destroyed head and tossing it forcefully. That decaying head shot through the air, spraying blood and other fragments, emitting a strange wailing as it finally shattered along with another swordsman's head. Then the headless monster, with lower body frozen in one chunk of ice and only one snake-like arm left from upper body, finally laid still, as if the evil spirit dwelling within had exhausted its strength.
The magician did not witness the scene behind him, nor did he pay attention to Asa, as he directed all his focus toward Sandru. He had realized that the bizarre mutations of these corpses were all the doing of this old man; he was the true enemy.
However, Sandru didn't even pay any attention to him. He mumbled a few incomprehensible syllables, and pointed toward the corpses on the ground. Instantly, the four new corpses sprang to life, moving in the same strange yet swift manner as the one before, chasing after other fleeing swordsmen.
In an instant, two swordsmen were caught. The corpses, like wolf spiders ambushing their prey, spread their limbs wide and clamped down on the swordsmen, pulling them close. The swordsmen emitted a groan that came half from their throats and half from their bodies, their bodies torn apart like overcooked chicken.
Cold sweat dripped from the magician's forehead. Faced with such a fully alert opponent, this old man was still able to act as if nothing was amiss while using his spells, and his effortless motions and magic made the magician unsure how to respond. This casually executed, surreal magic surpassed his imagination, and the control and skill displayed might even exceed that of Bishop Ronis.
The magician took a deep breath, gathering his magical power. Instead of chanting spells, he simply concentrated every bit of his magical energy, every ounce of physical strength, and even his life force into one point. Spending mental energy on magic control against an opponent so vastly superior was nearly a gift to him. He did not hope to cast any spell capable of hurting this man; he only wished that his decades of magical training would at least make it difficult for him to manipulate those corpses, allowing his few remaining companions a chance to escape.
A white light emanated from the center of the magician's palm, as if his magical power was impatiently trying to break free from the constraints of his body. This was the essence of magic honed by a high-level magician over several decades, released without reservation, with power not less than any great spell.
Yet Sandru remained relaxed, arms crossed, as if he were merely a bystander. The two headless corpses had already caught up to two more swordsmen, tearing them apart.
The magician exhaled, and the light in his palm swelled.
Finally, Sandru moved, but he merely reached out a hand. With his pale hand, he made a gesture in the air, twisting it as if casually flipping an invisible switch.
Just as the magician's magical power was about to burst forth like a raging river from his palm, he suddenly felt two muscles in his arm twitch inexplicably, like a cramp. However, this cramping force bent his straight arm back, pressing his palm against his own face. Initially intending to resist this sudden rebellion of his arm, he found that the last remnants of his strength had already converted into magical power. Thus, he could only watch helplessly as the culmination of his life's training tilted toward his face.
A strange crashing sound echoed, and within a blink of an eye, the half of the forest behind the magician had plunged from early summer into the extreme winter.
In a fan-shaped area, all the trees, flowers, and insects became ice sculptures. The last two or three swordsmen and the corpses pursuing them instantly froze, some maintaining their original running forms while others fell stiffly to the frozen ground with a hard sound.
Sandru looked at the magician's face, now encased in a massive block of ice, with his hand still pressed against his face, his expression full of unwillingness and shock. He shook his head and muttered, "To possess such profound magical skill and yet resort to such desperate tactics, you must be from the Knights Templar. But at the very least, you should have cast a magical defense first or saved some strength for yourself."
In the blink of an eye, the more than ten warriors of the Holy Knights, the elite of the Empire's army, had all died in bizarre and peculiar ways.
"Why didn't you act sooner? I almost died for real," Asa gasped, finally regaining his breath with a healing spell, pointing at Modo, who was still rolling and crawling away. "There is another one."
Just as the magician had yelled to run, Modo's reaction had been almost faster than those battle-hardened swordsmen. However, when he turned around and saw that corpse tear apart the recently lively swordsman, his legs immediately went weak, and he crawled on the ground like a paralyzed dog, desperately moving forward, leaving behind a strong stench. He was fleeing in the opposite direction from the swordsmen, unaffected by the icy breath, and it seemed that Sandru had completely ignored him. After crawling further, feeling that the danger had lessened, he finally stood up straight and began to run.
Sandru bent down to pick up a swordsman's head from the ground, pried open the mouth, and gently pinched and pulled out a tooth, like tearing off a small piece of dough from bread. He flicked the tooth between his fingers, sending it flying away.
The tooth did not fly fast in the air, spiraling like a feather, and it was quite imprecise, drifting and somehow hitting Modo on the backside, embedding itself in his body.
Modo was still shouting as he ran, but he stumbled, as if tripping over something, and fell down. Instinctively, he tried to support himself with his hands, but they completely crumbled like a biscuit under his weight, disintegrating into pieces.
Inertia caused him to continue rolling forward. By the time he completed one roll, he was left with only the upper half of his body; below his abdomen, his limbs had become mushy like waterlogged bread. The impact had scattered them everywhere. After rolling again, even his upper body was gone, leaving only his head to roll forward until it struck a tree root, making a pathetic sound like a poorly crafted clay pot and becoming a puddle of mush, with no bones remaining.
Sandru watched as this once-living person had turned into a mass of rotten flesh and blood within the time it took to spit, shaking his head in mild regret, "Years without use, and I've already regressed."
Asa sat on the ground, using healing spells to stop the bleeding and treat his wounds. Watching Sandru kill the ten or so swordsmen, who were not much inferior to him, with seemingly little effort, he felt a bit astonished. While he knew the old man should be able to handle these people, he hadn't anticipated such ease.
Sandru glanced around, spotting the prostitute Selena sitting on the ground. The bizarre scene that had just unfolded had left her in shock.
"Oh, how could I forget you, miss?" Sandru plucked another tooth from the head and flicked it, sending it spiraling through the air.
Asa was startled and jumped forward to push Selena out of the way. The tooth brushed past her shoulder and embedded itself in a tree behind her.
The tree didn't even shake; it withered immediately at a speed a thousand times faster than natural processes, then silently crumbled and fell, turning into a pile of wood chips.
Asa explained to Sandru, "She didn't mean any harm; she was just tricked into trying to trick me."
"Oh, I see. And then?" Sandru nodded absently. "You're not saying you want to let her go, are you?"
Asa froze; that was precisely what he meant.
Sandru's sharply contrasting black-and-white eyes stared mockingly at Asa as he asked, "Let her go to tell others that your esteemed priest secretly colluded with an old man who can turn into corpses and killed a small squad of Holy Knights? Then we just wait for the entire Knights Templar to surround us, and your bishop will have a hard time explaining himself? Is that what you mean?"
Just back from the brink of death, Selena was already sobbing uncontrollably, her tears and snot mixing with her makeup, making her appear messy and unattractive. She trembled and said, "I promise I won't say anything; I swear… please let me go… I beg you… I beg you…"
Sandru shook his head regretfully and said to her in a gentle tone, "I'm sorry, but we can't take that risk. People from the Knights Templar have died, and such a big deal will definitely cause a stir. If they investigate, they'll find out you were in contact with that idiot, and naturally, they'll arrest you and interrogate you severely—torturing you with chili water, rolling you on a rack, cutting off your fingers, skinning you... oh dear, that would be dreadful. Is there any oath that can withstand such intense torture? Would you still be able to keep quiet then? Rather than suffer like that, it would be better to die cleanly now and spare us the burden of keeping secrets." He ripped off one of his own ears, still muttering to himself. "Death isn't a big deal; it's just a matter of time. Instead of becoming old and ugly, rotting in bed, it's better to die beautifully and cleanly now. Don't worry, it won't hurt at all..." He flicked his fingers, and the ear flew away.
Asa pulled Selena away. The ear fell to the ground, causing the earth beneath it to sink and turn into a small puddle of stinking sludge.
This time, Sandru said nothing, just cast a sidelong glance at him.
"Please, I beg you. Just let her go," Asa finally managed to say after a moment. "I can make her keep it a secret, can't I?"
"Beg me?" Sandru suddenly let out a derisive laugh. "That's none of my business. This is your problem. Think it over yourself and deal with it." He turned and walked out of the woods without even looking at Asa, saying, "Just know that you must bear the consequences of your choices. I'm not afraid of others causing me trouble, nor am I afraid of causing trouble for others."
Watching Sandru leave, Asa sighed. To be honest, he knew Sandru was probably right. But he couldn't bear to watch her be killed.
If he had a few friends in this royal city, she was definitely one of them, perhaps even the most important one. Being with her was undoubtedly the time he felt the most relaxed and happiest. To most people, she might seem like a worthless woman, but Asa didn't know any of that; he just knew she was who she was—a shallow but pure and adorably ordinary person. He even had a slight affection for her.
But now, everything that had happened was clearly beyond her ability to accept and cope with. It was like a little hen suddenly being dragged into a pack of wolves, torn apart in a brutal fight. Even if she could survive, facing such a situation calmly and then figuring out how to navigate among those wolves was impossible. This was too far from her original life; she couldn't accept it. Indeed, as Sandru had said, there was no way she could keep that secret.
Selena was still shivering and crying in his arms, too afraid to lift her head. Asa gently patted her shoulder and softly said, "It's okay, it's okay..."
Once she calmed down a bit, Asa took all the money he had on him and gathered the coins that had fallen to the ground, stuffing them into Selena's hands. He said, "Listen carefully. Now, you need to pack your things, buy a horse immediately, and leave the royal city. Go as far as you can and never come back. You must remember, if you let anyone know about us, you'll be in danger too. Do you understand?"
With a face full of tears and snot, Selena nodded. Confirming that she fully understood his intent, Asa finally felt relieved. He escorted her out of the woods, then quietly made his way to the outskirts of the city, washing off the blood from his clothes before returning to Sandru's big house.
Sandru was standing at the door, seemingly just having come back, but he didn't enter the house.
Asa approached, but he saw an icy expression on Sandru's face. He was looking inside the house, and the chill emanating from his distinctly black and white eyes made Asa shiver.
The center of the large room had been cleared out. A stone platform weighing hundreds of pounds had been moved away by unknown means, revealing a small space underneath, where several charred corpses lay scattered nearby.
"Who was the one that ambushed you? Why did they attack you?" Sandru asked in a low voice. This was the first time Asa had heard him speak like this; his voice was low and resonant, like a drum—quiet, but each word sent a tremor through the listener's heart.
"Someone who has harassed me many times. I didn't expect them to use the Holy Knights this time." Asa looked at the scene inside the house and asked, "What happened here?"
"A little thief from the guild came to steal my things, including that notebook and that cloak. Well done..." Sandru's voice began to darken, filled with hints of killing intent. He slowly walked into the house, casually closing the door behind him, his eyes scanning the area where the stone platform had been moved. "Not long after that woman pulled you away, a beggar was called to deliver a message saying you were ambushed outside the city and were about to be killed. Hmph, so they were trying to draw me away."
"The guild..." Asa paused, suddenly realizing. "You mean it's the Necromancer Guild? How do you know?"
Sandru pointed to the stone platform and said, "There was a 'Cloud of Death' magical circle there. However, although the circle was triggered, the items were stolen. The only ones capable of countering necromancy, besides high priests from the church, are necromancers themselves." He pointed to the charred corpses on the ground. "And a high priest wouldn't use fire against my corpses. So it must be someone from the guild."
Asa said, "But the person who tried to assassinate me shouldn't be connected to the Necromancer Guild. Their plan was probably leaked, and they took advantage of it." Someone like Modo would likely be scared to death just hearing the name of the Necromancer Guild. "Bishop Ronis also mentioned that there might be a necromancer in the royal city. But we still don't know who it is."
"Hmph, to have the patience to wait for such an opportunity until now, ensuring I wouldn't be back for some time before acting, is quite cautious," Sandru said as he sat down on one side of the stone platform and closed his eyes. After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply. His voice and expression returned to his usual listlessness, even more lethargic than before, as if he had aged ten more years in an instant. "Forget it, let them take those. What's meant to come will come. I'm no longer going to get involved into such big matters. Let those who want to do it go ahead."