The wivern flew at full speed, with mountains and rivers seeming to pass slowly beneath, as if they were merely a backdrop. However, Asa knew that this apparent slowness was just an illusion created by the distance; even the fastest steed couldn't match half the speed of this giant reptile. In just one more day, they would reach Orford.
The wivern pierced through light clouds, scattering them into fragments. The moisture from the clouds whipped against Asa's face at high speed, causing a slight sting. If he weren't wearing that specially crafted eye mask, he probably wouldn't be able to open his eyes at all.
The eye mask was made of leather and embedded with two pieces of glass. When worn, it allowed him to see through the lenses while also shielding his face from the wind. Clearly, this was custom-made by the craftsmen of Orford for passengers riding on such unique flying beasts. Ordinary lizardmen drivers didn't need such a device, as their eyes naturally had a transparent keratin layer and didn't require this odd accessory.
However, that was just the lizardmen's specialty. Asa was sure that Grutt had no such organs, yet he appeared even more at ease than the lizardmen. The cold wind at this height cut like a knife; if a slightly more delicate person were here, they might lose a layer of skin. Yet Grutt seemed as calm and collected as if he were at a desk, observing the terrain below while sketching on a piece of leather with a charcoal pencil. His long, slender fingers moved quickly, outlining the mountainous terrain with precision.
Asa recalled how long it had taken him to traverse this complex mountainous region on his first journey westward—an entire day. Now, seated on the wivern, they were flying over it in just over ten minutes. He thought to himself, if he could travel the continent on this beast, it might not even take a month. However, that would lose its meaning; the journey was meant to be traveled, not flown over.
"Who would have thought there would be flies in a place like this," Grutt suddenly said coldly, his eyebrows and eyes unmoving, but the lines of his mouth shifted into a hard, rock-like expression.
"Flies?" Asa was taken aback, looking around. In the wake of the wivern's flight, there were not even any birds in sight.
"They're probably here for you," Grutt said, looking down sharply.
Asa followed his gaze and finally spotted five small black dots approaching rapidly. Judging by their shape and size, they were definitely not flies; the open wings resembled those of bats. However, there was no way any bat could fly at such heights. Asa suddenly realized and nearly jumped off the wivern: "It's necromancers!"
The five small black dots were quickly getting closer, their shapes becoming clearer. They had mouse-like faces and bodies that were immensely larger than those of monkeys, with enormous wings on their backs. These were the gargoyles he had seen outside the Whispering Woods, and three of them were ridden by figures.
"What should we do?" Asa asked, sweating slightly. "Dive down to the ground?"
"Why would we dive down? Just fly past them," Grutt answered coldly.
"Fly where?" Asa tightened the reins and shouted back. His sudden exertion made the wivern emit a muffled grunt, and its wings flapped harder.
Grutt frowned and took the reins from Asa's hands. Instead of urging the wivern to fly on, he turned the beast around and headed toward the approaching gargoyles.
"What are you doing?" Asa exclaimed in shock, his eyes wide.
"We're going to see what they want," Grutt replied calmly.
"I think it would be better if we found a place to hide," Asa suggested. Although he had great faith in Grutt's combat abilities, this was high in the sky, not land where they could move freely.
"We're not mice, so why hide?" Grutt said calmly.
Asa sighed, glancing at the five gargoyles that were growing nearer. In this situation, it seemed they could only act as the moment dictated.
The five gargoyles quickly approached. The three necromancers atop them wore silver skull masks that gleamed eerily in the sunlight. They did not draw too close to the wivern, stopping instead about twenty to thirty meters away and forming a fan shape around it. The three necromancers spread out in different directions, watching the two on the wivern.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you running away?" asked the one on the left, his voice distorted by the device in his mouth, but surprise was still audible.
"Because we don't want to run," Grutt replied.
"Then are you here to surrender?" said the necromancer on the right, nodding his head. "It seems your judgment is quite sound."
"What do you want?" Asa asked.
"Naturally, we're here to kill you. To kill you, and since you're together, we'll kill him too. So you might as well run away," the middle necromancer spoke. He appeared to be an older man; despite his mask, his curly white hair and deeply wrinkled dark skin were visible. His voice sounded somewhat agitated. "Whether you came to surrender or to discuss conditions with us, we will not accept. You have only one path: death."
Grutt smiled, a smile that mixed with the glint in his eyes. Asa felt as if he were looking at a leopard baring its teeth.
"Sorry to hear that. It seems Master Nimbras is in a bad mood because he lost a bet," one of the necromancers said with a light laugh, pointing at Asa. "He originally thought you would have already left the capital. But our acting guild leader bet you would definitely go to see that beautiful duchess one last time. All we had to do was waiting for you to come back, and he was right."
"Who would have thought your guild leader knew me so well," Asa replied awkwardly with a forced smile.
"It's Nimbras the Sage of Tatalia, isn't it?" Grutt asked, looking at the middle necromancer. "I never imagined you would be a member of the Necromancer Guild."
"Since you're calling names so casually, it seems they really have no intention of leaving us alive," Asa sighed. The Sage Nimbras held a status in Tatalia similar to that of Bishop Ronis in the Empire of Einfast. Even kings often sought the opinions of this esteemed sage. He couldn't help but wonder how the people of Tatalia would react if they knew that the person they revered was actually a necromancer. "But since you've already decided to kill us, why wear those masks? Why not let us see who we're dealing with?"
"Sorry, it's a guild regulation."
"You don't need to be afraid. While we will kill you, you still have a choice in how you die," the necromancer who enjoyed laughing said, his voice gentle and kind as if he were soothing a child. "Just tell us the whereabouts of the World Tree's leaf, and save us the trouble and effort of searching for it. Then we can make your death a bit easier."
"If I don't tell you the location of the World Tree's leaf, wouldn't that at least let me keep my life?" Asa replied.
"If you don't tell us, we will naturally go look for it. As long as this thing is still on the continent, there's no way for it to escape our grasp," the necromancer sighed, speaking with a serious tone full of goodwill. "I advise you to tell us. Each of our members is a busy person, occupied with countless important matters, and in our spare time, we have many noble and elegant entertainments and artistic pursuits. If you tell us, you'll help us save that incredibly precious time, and we will surely repay you. There will be no pain; perhaps you won't even feel the concept of 'death' and will return to the eternal and peaceful realm of the dead."
However, Nimbras shook his head, saying, "No need for that; you should run away. We specifically came with three people because we expected you would surely resist to the death or try to escape. I haven't experienced the thrill of a hunter in many years." He paused, speaking with half a tone of benevolence and half of encouragement, "Maybe you'll get lucky; maybe you can really escape. If you lose your fighting spirit like this, it would be quite dull."
The three necromancers spoke with a tone and posture of rulers, appearing very relaxed. However, they did not let their guard down. They knew well that the people before them were not sheep to be slaughtered. But it was precisely because of this that they had enough interest.
Asa spoke while observing the breathing, gaze, and mental state of the three necromancers. As long as there was the slightest flaw or opportunity, he would strike with all his might.
Unfortunately, he never found such an opportunity. The three necromancers maintained a distance of several dozen meters from the wivern, no matter how smug they appeared. At this height of several thousand meters, that distance was enough to prevent any sudden close-range attacks. They formed an equilateral triangle in midair, with equal distances between them. No matter who was attacked, the other two could react and assist immediately.
The three necromancers exuded faint magical waves, flowing and wandering within the triangle. Although they felt triumphant, they did not lose their composure. Each of them was an exceptionally intelligent and talented individual, fully aware not to make the low-level mistake of being careless just because they had the upper hand.
However, Asa was not in despair; he even felt a glimmer of hope, because the person behind him would not let him down. Even if he couldn't find an opportunity to act, that person definitely would.
"What's wrong? Hurry and run," Nimbras seemed a bit impatient. A wave of dark green light flickered in his hand, one of the higher-level necromantic spells—Death Ripple.
This spell had little destructive power against objects, but the waves of death and chaos it contained were deadly to living beings. Moreover, it was an area spell, making it almost impossible to dodge. Even the wivern would lose half its life if caught in this spell.
"I've said it. We never intended to run away. Also, I want to ask you a question," Grutt's gaze swept over the faces of the three necromancers as he spoke deliberately, "Why don't you escape?"
"Haha..." "Hehe..." The three necromancers laughed. Nimbras seemed especially amused, and the green light in his hand suddenly brightened.
But in the next instant, like the fleeting brilliance of a meteor, that light suddenly vanished.
Along with it vanished Nimbras's hand. The manipulation, preparation, and resonance of this spell had all been perfectly set, like a cloud of smoke in his hand; with a simple gesture, the most basic action would instantly erupt. However, he didn't even have time to perform that simplest of actions, and his hand, along with the gathered magical power, scattered like scraps of paper in the wind.
The massive body of the wivern plunged downward, the spot where Grutt had been standing completely caved in, and two muffled cracks of broken ribs emanated from the wivern's body.
Nimbras's scream was no less than that of the wivern. Their cries echoed simultaneously, both utterly piercing and blending into one.
Just a moment ago, Grutt had been standing still on the wivern; now he had already landed on the head of one of the gargoyles in front of Nimbras. Dust and stone fragments flew up from the gargoyle's head as he landed. At the same time, Grutt extended his hand.
His hand also glowed like Nimbras's, but it shone white. With what seemed like a casual slap, Grutt's white-glowing hand caused Nimbras's green-glowing hand, filled with magic, to explode into a spray of flesh.
However, at the same time, Grutt's body froze. A white radiance, containing countless tiny colorful specks of light, illuminated him. The countless small lights melted into his body upon contact, causing him to momentarily pause.
This pause lasted only the briefest moment. But just that moment of stasis allowed Nimbras to scream and jump off the gargoyle. The other hand, which could have similarly shattered his head, merely grazed past his chest, sending a spray of blood into the air.
What should have been a certain strike had missed entirely, and he had even been struck by magic. Grutt turned to glare at the necromancer on the other gargoyle. His entire body glowed with white light.
The necromancer trembled. He saw the boiling, frenzied killing intent and fighting spirit in Grutt's dark eyes. For the first time in his life, he felt fear, terror.
Although he had laughed from the beginning and believed victory was in his grasp, he could tell that this person was formidable. He understood that the other would surely act, and he was clear that since the opponent was so confident, there must be a reason for that confidence. So he had laughed heartily while also preparing a spell, waiting for this person to act. He anticipated this person would leap onto the gargoyle, watching for the moment the man became stiff in midair, expecting to see him fall from this thousand-meter height and splatter like meat.
He had indeed anticipated the man's attack, but he had not foreseen his own reaction. His gaze, the speed of his reaction, and the opponent's movements displayed a vast disparity. It wasn't until Nimbras's hand shattered, and the opponent's figure paused from the attack that he realized what was happening, finally getting a chance to unleash the magic he had already prepared. Moreover, due to the near-instantaneous nature of the spell, he barely saved Nimbras's life.
This was not merely seizing an opportunity to catch the opponent off guard; it was true power. The necromancer understood that if this person came for him, his full vigilance would be utterly meaningless. He might not even have time to grasp the concept of 'death' before his head shattered like Nimbras's hand.
In other words, in front of this person, he was no different from a mere bug. This unprecedented fear swept through his entire being in an instant.
The top-tier white magic paralysis spell that could stiffen an elephant for half an hour had only resulted in a brief moment of delay for Grutt. If this were a battle between two evenly matched opponents, it might have been a fatal opportunity. But the three of them were merely spellcasters. Even the most powerful spellcasters had reactions and judgments similar to ordinary people; that moment was simply too brief.
The necromancer did not unleash an attack spell again; his confidence vanished in an instant. Fear and urgency compelled him to instinctively cast a high-level protective white magic, 'Heaven's Blessing.' Under this nearly top-tier white magic level, he instantly gained numerous auxiliary spells akin to 'Strength,' 'Blessing,' 'Luck,' 'Encouragement,' 'Stone Skin,' and many more.
Grutt bent down and leaped, and the massive body of the stone gargoyle beneath him shattered into pieces in an instant. In the eyes of the necromancer enhanced by the 'Eagle Eye' spell, Grutt's figure turned into a straight line of white light, shooting toward the stone gargoyle where the necromancer was located like a crossbow bolt.
The 'Blessing of Heaven' truly saved the necromancer's life. The 'Eagle Eye' allowed him to see Grutt's posture as he bent down to charge. The 'Haste' and 'Strength' spells gave him enough reaction time and power to evade. There was no time to control the gargoyle; like Nimbras, he hurriedly jumped down.
The sound of the gargoyle shattering echoed behind him. The necromancer struggled in mid-air to make a gesture, chanting a spell, and activated the Flight spell, desperately trying to float away. When he turned around, he saw Grutt standing on top of a shattered gargoyle, crouching and preparing to punch. With a thunderous crash, a magical creature several times larger than himself burst apart, scattering into a pile of rubble that fell to the ground.
The only remaining gargoyle, under the necromancer's control, fled from the scene and rushed below to catch the falling Nimbras.
Grutt jumped back onto the wivern from the remnants of the fallen gargoyle and nodded at Asa, saying, "Well done."
As soon as Grutt moved, Asa reacted first. He immediately began to gather magical energy; as the wivern screamed, he quickly cast a high-level healing spell. Otherwise, the dragon, with a rib broken at the base of its wings, would have plummeted to the ground.
When Nimbras's hand shattered and the necromancer's paralysis spell was unleashed, another necromancer was also about to act, but Asa's three fireballs had already reached him. The necromancer had no choice but to use three bolts of lightning to shatter the fireballs. However, this delay meant that the moment to paralyze had already slipped away. Upon seeing Grutt's form, which was as swift as an arrow and almost impossible to track with the eye, the necromancer dared not attack anymore, hurriedly directing the gargoyle downward to catch the falling Nimbras.
The flying necromancer also landed on the gargoyle, and the three shaken necromancers now gathered on the only remaining gargoyle. In that brief moment, their emotions plummeted from the heights of confidence to a painful realization of reality. They felt like proud scholars suddenly faced with a fierce beast, realizing that their once-valuable knowledge was now as laughable and powerless as a joke. No matter how much magical power, wisdom, or skill they had, it felt useless against such primal speed and raw power. For the first time, they felt as helpless as ordinary people.
The necromancer's lips trembled slightly beneath his mask. Whether from anger, pain, or fear, what was destroyed was not only the four gargoyles but also their confidence.
Fear, horror, shame, and immense pain transformed into hysterical rage. Nimbras clutched his severed hand, staring madly at the wivern, screaming, "Kill him! Kill him! I will kill him!"
Although he seemed to be going mad, this was not mere madness. After all, the three of them were the continent's top spellcasters; as long as they created distance and had enough preparation, the advantage would still be on their side. After all, as long as they could cast high-level spells, no mere flesh and blood could withstand them.
But they didn't have time to prepare. The wivern suddenly let out a shriek and began a direct dive toward the gargoyle.
The opponents on the wivern knew that they absolutely could not let them create distance to prepare high-level magic. There was only one gargoyle left, and the necromancers had little room to maneuver.
Just like before, a figure with a white glow shot out from the wivern, racing toward the gargoyle at a speed almost impossible to see with the naked eye.
Only the necromancer enhanced by the 'Blessing of Heaven' could see this faint figure. Although he still couldn't accurately capture such a high-speed opponent, the distance now was much greater than before. He had already fully gathered magical energy and was preparing. The key was that he could see the direction the opponent was coming from. However, at such a speed, no mage could cast a high-level large-area spell. He spread his hands and poured all his maximized magical power into a low-level spell, releasing it in an instant.
A strange cracking sound echoed in the air, reverberating. Then the figure suddenly halted, its speed diminishing.
The necromancer collapsed, kneeling in exhaustion. His face beneath the mask turned pale as he coughed up a small mouthful of blood. It felt as if the backlash of the magical power had twisted his internal organs into mush.
The spell was low-level, but he had used all of his magical power to enhance its effect. The 'Force Field Shield' used to block arrows and enemy movements was originally a dangerous low-level spell. If the force field shattered, the mage's own magic would inevitably become chaotic and injure him. Although the fully used 'Force Field Shield' could block a giant stone thrown by a catapult, under the impact of this figure, it crumbled like a piece of thin paper. If it weren't for the gentle and pure nature of the white magic within him, the backlash from the broken force field could have cost him his life.
But the spell he desperately cast did indeed have an effect. Although Grutt was still diving down toward him, after breaking through the force field, he had transformed from a white shadow into a figure visible to everyone.
Moreover, he was now in mid-air, unable to gain any leverage. The other two necromancers watched him with eyes filled with deathly poison.
Nimbras let out a shrill scream as dead green ripples surged from his remaining hand, gathering. The deathly green was so intense that it seemed he was holding a pool of rotting water that had festered for hundreds of years. This pool of stagnant water churned and morphed in his hand, transforming into an arrow that seemed to have a tangible form.
Nimbras raised his hand, aiming at the figure in mid-air. No matter how strong a fighter was, floating in mid-air without leverage was merely a living target. The deathly arrow in his hand was the essence of decades of magical training; no one, no creature could withstand this blow.
A violent explosion suddenly erupted in mid-air, striking Grutt. The raging currents and flames instantly blossomed into a great flower of death, causing even the gargoyle to begin swaying under the shockwave. The massive fireball created by the explosion instantly engulfed Grutt's figure within.
The three necromancers were stunned, for none of them had attacked.
But the next moment, the figure burst forth from the flames, regaining its original speed and continuing to charge toward the three necromancers on the gargoyle. The violent magical energy did not tear him apart; rather, the explosive force propelled him forward at an even greater speed.
The white aura of fighting spirit surrounding his body glowed to its maximum intensity. He raised his hand, his long, graceful fingers curling into a fist. Even amidst the sound of the explosion, the three necromancers could feel a booming resonance.
On the wivern, Asa retracted his hand, panting heavily. This fireball, faster than an arrow and infused with such tremendous power, would not have been possible without the lessons he had received from old Sandru over the past few days. Although he hadn't coordinated with Grutt beforehand, he understood that this fireball was undoubtedly the right choice.
A look of terror spread across Nimbras's face. Because of this sudden acceleration, he knew that the magic in his hand would not be faster than this punch. But he felt a tightening around his neck as his body began to hover backward, suspended in the air.
Grutt's foot finally landed on the head of the gargoyle, and the incredibly hard black stone began to shatter and splinter. But the gargoyle was already empty; there was no one left.
The three necromancers had flown into the air. Or rather, only one necromancer was left, carrying the other two.
Just as the first necromancer, exhausted and weakened, began to collapse, and Nimbras prepared to attack, the last necromancer also had no time to waste; he was also gathering magical power. When the explosion occurred and Grutt accelerated in mid-air, especially when he saw that raised fist, a subconscious fear instinctively transformed his originally planned attack into a motive to flee.
Physically, he was indeed an elderly man, comparable to an ordinary person, with no sharp bodily movements, let alone explosive power; if it were just a matter of dodging physically, he could have died a thousand times. However, the magic he had refined throughout his life moved at a speed almost equal to that of the opponent charging toward him. He grabbed the back of his two companions and shot upward like a startled vulture, simultaneously shouting, "So it was you that day!"
"It was you who killed Aisri that day," the necromancer, dragging his two companions in mid-air, shouted, his eyes beneath the skull mask filled with both rage and fear.
Grutt did not answer. He bent down and leaped; the gargoyle's head shattered beneath his feet as he flew toward the three necromancers in the sky like a crossbow bolt.
But this time, he missed. Fear had made the nerves of the necromancer in mid-air extremely sensitive; almost as soon as Grutt bent down, the necromancer began to evade, dragging his two companions to the side like fish in water, allowing Grutt to zoom past them just a few meters away.
Nimbras watched the figure pass by, and the panic in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced by a snarl. The magic in his hand had taken shape; he raised it, holding the deathly arrow formed purely from magical fluctuations, and swung it toward the passing Grutt, shouting, "Go—"
What followed should have been the word "die." He must have shouted "Go die." But Nimbras couldn't yell it out, as his mouth suddenly vanished.
Not just his mouth; his entire head exploded in an instant. It didn't shatter and splatter like an egg or a tomato; his head suddenly erupted like a small firework, silently bursting apart. The blood, flesh, and bone fragments rained down on the two nearby necromancers, evenly coating them. The silver skull mask was the only thing on his head that remained intact, but it was twisted and mangled into a ragged heap.
Without a head, the deathly arrow in his hand, which was almost ready to be unleashed, let out a pop and vanished.
Unfazed, Grutt continued to rise, retracting his fist and taking a breath. For the first time, he showed a hint of fatigue, for the distance between him and the necromancer when he threw his punch had been a full twenty meters.
The flying necromancer paused momentarily, then let out a scream of utmost fear.
His fear wasn't due to witnessing his companion's death, but because he knew that if Nimbras hadn't been about to launch an attack, it would have been his head that exploded.
There were no prior warnings or magical fluctuations. He only seemed to see that person speed by and then turn in mid-air, unleashing a white fist into the void, and then Nimbras's head burst open. It was only at that moment that he sensed the abnormality in the air through his subtle awareness of the airflow. That wasn't magic; it was pure strength and speed. The punch thrown into the void was simply too fast and too powerful, actually "striking" the air outward. The burst of air generated by that punch might have only been a fraction of its strength, but it was more than enough to obliterate a human head.
Without any hesitation, the necromancer abandoned Nimbras's headless corpse and, dragging his other companion, flew away into the distance, moving several times faster than when they had come on the gargoyle, becoming a small black dot in the blink of an eye.
Grutt's speed gradually decreased as he ascended, and he began to descend. Asa rode the wivern to catch him.
Back on the wivern, Grutt appeared somewhat disheveled. However, this disarray came from Asa; the fireball that exploded on his back had almost completely shredded his clothing, revealing a body sculpted with a beauty of strength, while his hair seemed singed in parts, and his face bore some soot. But his expression was one of satisfaction and affirmation as he smiled at Asa, saying, "Well done with the explosion."
Asa smiled back, "You fought even better."
"I need to be more careful next time," Grutt sighed, as if he were not entirely satisfied with how the battle had unfolded. "I didn't expect these three flies to be a bit more troublesome than I anticipated."
"A bit?" Asa asked.
"A bit," Grutt nodded.