Chapter 11
The scene unfolds beneath the trees. Anon grips his sword tightly, focusing hard to awaken his sixth sense. However, he struggles, and frustration begins to overwhelm him.
On the other side of the battlefield, Instructor Armir steps forward.
"Shall we begin?" Armir voice cuts through the tension.
"Norman, Ravna—attack me at the same time," he orders, stepping back a few paces.
"Huh? What the hell is this? Do you really underestimate us so much that you think you can handle both of us together?" Ravna fumes, her mana flaring around her in a display of raw power.
"Ravena, don't do anything reckless! Focus!" Norman cautions her.
Norman, ever calculating, considers the situation. Maybe Instructor Armir wasn't using his full strength when he sparred with Anon earlier, he thinks.
The battle begins. Within three minutes,
Ravna is thrown against a wall, and Norman finds himself pinned to the ground.
What just happened? Norman wonders, struggling to make sense of the scene.
Let's take a step back. Norman is a meticulous strategist who approaches everything with precise calculations. He had analyzed Instructor Armir, estimating him to be a third-circle combat mage. Based on that, Norman devised a plan to force Armir to exhaust his mana, which should have allowed them to defeat him.
But now, none of his calculations seem to hold up.
"You must be Norman, I hear about you .." Armir begins, approaching the defeated pair. "I've heard about you. They say you're a man of precision, that your calculations are impeccable."
Norman narrows his eyes as Armir crouches down to look him in the face.
"But do you really think your calculations can save your life in every battle?" Armir s voice is sharp, almost mocking.
"Ugh, it hurts so much..." Ravna groans as she regains consciousness.
"Ravna," Armir addresses her sternly, "as a Saint candidate, your recklessness and impulsive behavior are unbefitting of your role. Do you even realize that?"
Ravna glares at him, anger and frustration clouding her judgment. She remembers how Armir had injured Aris yesterday, and now his words feel like salt on a wound.
"And what do you even know about being a Saint?" Ravna snaps. Channeling her mana into her fist, she charges at him.
As she reaches Armir, he suddenly vanishes. Ravna spins around, trying to locate him, but the next moment, she feels a sharp impact as Armir appears behind her and strikes her on the head, knocking her down.
"Impressive," Armir comments. "For someone so young, you have strength and determination—more than most men. But that's not enough."
Suddenly, Armir senses something. He glances down to find his legs sinking into the ground, held by an immobilizing spell cast by Norman.
"Ah, so this is Choeyabali—an intriguing spell," Armir remarks.
He channels flames across his body, raising the temperature to such an extent that the ground around him dries and crumbles, freeing him.
As he emerges, Ravna launches a kick at him, her movements swift and forceful. Her attack almost connects, but Armir blocks it with his hand.
"What's with these cowardly attacks?" he growls, his face contorted with irritation.
"Cowardly? This is called strategy!" Ravna retorts, her mana surging as she readies another strike.
Armir stands up fully, dusting off the debris from his body. The battle continues with their determination unshaken.
"Okay, if this is what you want, then that's it. Come at me," Armir declared, his voice resonating with authority. Suddenly, he spread his mana field wide, radiating a suffocating and murderous aura.
Ravnafroze in fear, her body trembling uncontrollably. Even Norman felt a shiver run down his spine, though he tried his best to maintain composure.
"Don't be afraid, Ravena! If you let fear take over, we can't win," Norman urged, helping her regain her senses.
Ravnawas nearly paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure of Instructor Armir smana field.
(Note: A mana field isn't a spell but rather the act of spreading one's mana around oneself or toward an opponent. High-circle mages or those with vast reserves of mana can use this technique to intimidate and even freeze their opponents with fear.)
Taking a deep breath, Ravnasteadied herself and looked at Armir. Despite her best efforts, her fear was still evident in her eyes.
"Do you have a plan, Norman?" Ravnaasked, her voice tinged with desperation.
"Keep him busy while I work on creating a new spell," Norman replied, his focus shifting entirely to crafting his next move.
Ravnaturned her gaze back to Armir, determination starting to surface amidst her fear.
"You want me to keep him busy?" she repeated, her voice almost incredulous.
But before she could act, Armir launched a sudden attack, catching her completely off guard. The force of his strike sent her flying a few meters away.
Groaning, Ravnapushed herself up, her body aching from the impact.
"Huh… Keep him busy? This is not easy," she muttered under her breath, frustration and resolve battling within her.
"what happedn dithu your barbarian talk.comme at me" mr armir walked at her slowly and he make his man afiled so strong .
With his mana field growing so strong, she couldn't bear to witness it anymore and collapsed onto the ground. She was so scared that she couldn't even speak.
Armir looked at her and said with disappointment,
"So, it was all just talk, huh?"
But then, he suddenly felt a cold breeze. Turning around, he saw Norman casting a spell. Norman had conjured an enormous amount of water and manipulated the air to control its flow before launching it toward Instructor Armir.
Armir almost got caught in the spell but managed to speed up and knock Norman to the ground.
Meanwhile, Aris was watching the scene from a distance.
When Instructor Armir had defeated and subdued them, he deactivated his mana field and looked directly at Aris. Then, walking toward him, he said,
"Shall we start?"
Aris felt his throat go dry.
A few moments later…
Continue to …