David moved first, meeting one of the monsters head-on. His blade flashed as he struck with all his strength, but to his shock, the creature shrugged it off and countered with overwhelming force. David staggered, struggling to hold his ground.
"How is this possible?" he gasped, his disbelief plain. He was no weakling; among knights, his strength was formidable. Yet against these monsters, he was clearly outmatched.
Harry, meanwhile, danced around another monster's attacks with practiced ease. Every swing of its massive claws was deadly, its sheer strength far beyond anything he had faced before. "A monster 'this' powerful?" he thought, dodging a devastating blow. A troubling question crossed his mind: 'Are wizards truly this far above knights?'
But then he caught a glimpse of Sean, also dodging frantically and looking just as cornered. The idea crumbled. It wasn't that wizards were leagues above knights, it was that this old man was far beyond a normal wizard. His power eclipsed what either of them could have expected.
Harry narrowed his eyes and adjusted his approach. Instead of fighting head-on, he began to weave his way closer to the magic circle, observing carefully while avoiding direct confrontation. Meanwhile, he watched Sean with a glimmer of hope. 'Do something,' he thought silently.
As if sensing Harry's unspoken expectations, Sean gritted his teeth and launched another attack. Flames erupted from his fingertips, roaring into a fiery inferno that coalesced into massive fireballs. With a flick of his hand, the fireballs hurtled toward the monsters, exploding on impact with sharp, deafening blasts.
The results were immediate. Several monsters reeled back, their thick hides scorched and bloody wounds carved into their bodies. For a moment, it seemed like Sean was turning the tide. The raw power of the fireball was undeniable, if a knight had been hit, they would've been critically injured, if not outright killed.
But there was a glaring problem. The fireball spell took too long to cast. Against lumbering monsters, it worked, but if the enemy had been more agile, landing a hit would've been nearly impossible. And Sean knew it. He pressed on, rapidly casting one spell after another, pushing his limits. Fire, force, and energy rippled through the battlefield, each spell wearing him down further.
Sean's face grew pale, his breath labored. His stamina was draining quickly, but his efforts were not in vain. The relentless barrage forced the old man to finally act.
"You're much stronger than I expected," the old man said, his tone tinged with genuine surprise as he looked at Sean. The young wizard stood pale and visibly drained, but somehow still managed to hold his ground.
With a calm motion, the old man raised one hand, extending his fingers. Instantly, the flesh and blood scattered across the battlefield were drawn toward him, pulled by an invisible force. Under his control, the gore began to reshape, twisting and reforming into a grotesque mass that surged forward like a living weapon.
Sean reacted, trying to counter, but the spell faltered mid-air, meeting an immovable barrier. The old man smiled, a calm, predatory expression.
'Bang!'
The grotesque mass of flesh exploded in mid-air, sending shards of corrupted flesh and blood hurtling in every direction. A sickening, corrosive stench filled the air as the splattered remains hissed on contact with the ground. When droplets landed on Sean's arm, a searing pain shot through him, threatening to pull a scream from his throat. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give the old man the satisfaction.
Sean's face paled further. It was clear: this opponent was far more powerful than him. Both were apprentices, but the gap in their abilities was undeniable. Sean had expended nearly all his mana reserves during the earlier clash, leaving him running on fumes.
And the old man knew it.
"Looks like it's over," the old man said with a confident smirk, stepping forward. "The lives of you and the two knights beside you will be mine. With your vitality, I'll step closer to my goal."
His tone was casual, as though this was already a foregone conclusion. The old man's posture relaxed as he savored his supposed victory. In his mind, the battle was decided. With Sean out of mana, his only threat was neutralized. The knights? Mere fodder. Their lives were little more than stepping stones for his ascension to full wizardhood.
He was already imagining the fruits of his success, a self-satisfied smile creeping across his face.
Then—'Bang!'
A sudden sound broke his focus. One of the monsters let out a guttural roar before collapsing with a dull thud.
A figure darted forward through the chaos. It was Harry.
Having carefully observed the old man's tactics, Harry seized his moment. Without hesitation, he unleashed his full strength. His sword shimmered with life energy as he swung, cutting down the monster blocking his path in a single decisive strike.
The old man's smile faltered, replaced by a faint frown. "Still resisting?" he muttered, though his voice betrayed no real concern. With a wave of his hand, he commanded the remaining monsters to converge on Harry, forming a wall of snarling beasts to block his advance.
But then, something unexpected happened.
Harry didn't slow down. His movements were precise, efficient, and relentless. Each swing of his blade cleaved through the monsters like a hot knife through butter. Despite their size and power, the creatures couldn't so much as slow him down. The life energy radiating from his attacks was overwhelming, cutting through the corrupted flesh like it was paper.
The old man's frown deepened as he watched Harry tear through his creatures with surgical precision. Unlike David, who struggled against a single beast, Harry moved like a storm, unstoppable and composed. His focus was razor-sharp, his movements deliberate. No matter how many monsters surged toward him, they fell, one after another.
"Huh?"
The old man's expression shifted as he realized something was wrong.
This knight, he shouldn't be this strong.
The monsters he had summoned were crafted to rival fully trained knights in power. While they might not be invincible, they should never have been defeated so easily. Yet here was Harry, cutting through them as if they were nothing.
His gaze snapped to Harry, who now leaped gracefully into the air.
At that moment, something extraordinary happened. A surge of life energy coursed through Harry's body, flooding him with an overwhelming power. His very presence seemed to change. The energy wrapped around him, radiating outwards, and his entire body appeared to ascend to another level.
A pale, radiant light engulfed his armor, giving it an almost otherworldly glow. He stood tall, bathed in the brilliance of life energy, exuding an aura of strength that made him look more like a mythical warrior than a mortal knight.
"This... this is..."
Gasps filled the room as everyone stared at Harry in disbelief.
"A 'Great Knight'!" David exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe and shock.
The old man's eyes widened. "This isn't good!" he muttered, his composure breaking.
Panic flickered across his face as he immediately acted. With a desperate motion, he stretched out his hand, summoning the full extent of his magical power. A barrier materialized around him; a translucent, shimmering shield, deceptively thin but fortified with immense defensive strength.
But Harry didn't slow. He raised his sword, its golden blade glowing with pure energy, and brought it down with devastating force.
'Boom!'
The sword struck like a hammer from the heavens. The barrier shattered instantly, split cleanly in two as the old man's magic crumbled under the sheer power of the blow.
The collision of Harry's life energy and the remnants of the old man's magic exploded outward, sending shockwaves through the room. The force rippled like a storm, yet neither combatant flinched.
'Bang!'
The old man was sent hurtling backward, crashing into the distant stone wall with a sickening thud. His body crumpled to the ground, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the ringing of the impact.
Close combat with a Great Knight, it was a death sentence. Even for a wizard apprentice on the brink of promotion, there was no chance. And against someone like Harry, the gap was insurmountable. The old man might as well have been a toy facing a hurricane.
Harry, unshaken, stood where he had landed, his expression calm and composed. He raised his sword once more, the golden blade still glowing with immense power.
The old man's eyes widened in terror as he watched. "No!" he cried out, realizing what was about to happen.
But to his surprise, Harry didn't swing at him. Instead, he turned his attention to the magic circle nearby, the center of the old man's plan.
With precision and purpose, Harry swung his blade down, not at the old man but at the pale, pulsating heart at the center of the magic circle.
"'No!'"
The old man's voice erupted into a desperate, guttural roar. His eyes bulged, filled with rage and helplessness. He scrambled to act, to cast a spell, to stop Harry. But his strength was gone. The earlier clash had drained him entirely.
He was powerless to intervene as the golden sword descended in a blinding arc.
'Slash!'
The blade struck the heart, cleaving it in two. The pale light that had once pulsed from it flickered violently, then went out. The room fell silent, save for the old man's anguished scream, filled with despair.
The heart, the culmination of his years of work, was destroyed in an instant. The magic circle unraveled, its intricate patterns fading into nothingness. The entire ritual, the old man's grand plan, had been utterly dismantled.
Harry lowered his blade, his eyes steady, the room still humming faintly from the aftermath of his strike. Behind him, the old man collapsed to his knees, staring blankly at the shattered remnants of his ambitions.
'Boom!'
The golden blade sliced through the pale white heart, shattering it completely. A shockwave of energy erupted as the heart exploded, scattering blood and chunks of flesh into the air before they rained down in a grotesque mess.
The magic circle beneath them, once pulsating with power, began to destabilize. Without the heart's vitality to sustain it, the glowing runes cracked and erupted in small bursts, one after another. The entire formation collapsed in a cascade of destruction.
The ritual was over.
And with it, so was the old man's ambition.
"'No! This can't be happening!'"
The old man staggered to his feet, staring in disbelief at the carnage around him. His eyes were wide, his mind a haze of confusion and panic. Everything had unraveled so quickly, so catastrophically.
How?
He replayed the events in his mind, desperate for answers. Everything had been perfect. He had lured the knights in, drained their vitality, and even suppressed Sean, leaving the wizard powerless to interfere.
It should have worked. It 'would' have worked.
But then... 'him.'
A 'Great Knight' a warrior of such power and rarity that even in the prestigious lands of Ryan, they were considered figures of authority. Why would someone like that be here, in this desolate corner of the Black Forest? Why now?
The old man's hands trembled as the weight of his failure pressed down on him. He couldn't understand it. He couldn't accept it.
Before he could dwell on his despair, a searing pain shot through his body.
He glanced down, dazed, and saw his flesh beginning to twist and drip. His body was collapsing. The backlash of the failed magic circle was eating away at him. Flesh and blood sloughed off, pooling at his feet. His very form was dissolving, and the excruciating pain tore a scream from his lips.
Rage flared within him. If he was going to die, he wouldn't die alone. If this was the end, he would drag these wretched fools down with him.
With a surge of fury, he tried to channel the last remnants of his power, determined to take them all to hell with him.
'Shing!'
A sharp, clean sound cut through the air.
The old man froze.
In that instant, a brilliant golden light flashed before his eyes.
"Such a fast sword..." was the last thought to cross his mind before everything went dark.
His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. His head rolled to the side, severed cleanly from his shoulders.
Harry stepped forward, lowering his blade. He hadn't hesitated. The moment the old man was distracted by his rage, Harry seized the opportunity and struck with precision. In a fight to the death, there was no room for honor or hesitation.