The Necromancer's Servant

Welleskay's expression was a mix of shock and fury as he looked at the person who intercepted his arrow. Using an arrow to block another arrow was an almost impossible feat, even for him. Yet, the arrow that intercepted his had matched his own in speed and power.

The female patrol guard, already unusually tall among elves, now appeared even more imposing—her body had expanded nearly half again in size and was now as tall as Hilika. Her tightly stretched clothes outlined a perfectly curved and powerful figure. The black war bow was once again drawn in her hands, with green battle aura faintly radiating around her body.

Drawing this bow required far more than brute strength. Previously, the female patrol guard had used all her energy and battle aura just to barely fire it once. But now, she could at least shoot it multiple times in succession. This transformation of her body brought more than just increased height and strength.

Beside her, the young elf maiden had just removed the green leaves covering the female patrol guard's body. It was clear that this transformation was the result of her spell.

"Everyone, stop! If anyone makes another move, our arrows won't show any mercy," said Elder Lloyd, his voice carrying a newfound authority bolstered by the thousands of bows now aimed and ready.

Theodorus took advantage of the moment, using his fully recovered magic to cast an ice wall, blocking the charging holy warriors. Although this thin ice wall was no more than paper in front of the warriors, none of them dared to act rashly. Breaking this barrier might serve as a signal for the surrounding elves to attack. The warriors looked toward Bishop Adra for guidance.

"Elder Lloyd, what is the meaning of this?" Adra asked coldly, his gaze fixed on the elf elder.

Elder Lloyd responded slowly, "I only hope that everyone will stop. Both sides are our friends, and we won't allow the blood of friends to stain the land of Turaleone Forest."

Adra snorted, "These two are leaders of the vile orcs, and one of them is a criminal wanted across the entire continent for his heinous crimes. Are you saying you're standing with them? If so, that makes you our enemy."

"How could that be?" Elder Lloyd replied, looking hurt and innocent. He anxiously explained to the bishop, "If I were truly on Theodorus's side, would I be here trying to mediate? Wouldn't the thousands of elven arrows surrounding you already have done their work?"

Adra paused, his brows furrowing as his expression darkened slightly. Lloyd's explanation forced him to consider the possibility of an uncontrollable escalation.

Lloyd sighed, raised his hand, and said with a patient and conciliatory tone, "As I've said, I want everyone to stop. You are all our friends. Even if there is bad blood between you, we don't want to see it escalate here."

"Everyone, step back," Adra ordered. His face was pale as he gestured for the holy warriors to withdraw.

Beside Asa, Hilton let out a long sigh of relief and nearly collapsed. He never imagined in his life that he would one day find the courage to stand up to so many holy warriors. His clenched fists were so stiff from tension that he couldn't even open his fingers.

He was the only one relieved by the sudden ceasefire. The others had grown more tense, not less. All eyes turned to the center of the field, where a growing and increasingly violent storm of battle aura raged.

It was clear that Grutt and Lancelote hadn't heard Elder Lloyd's words—or even if they had, they wouldn't stop. They couldn't stop. Lloyd also didn't command the elves to intervene, likely because he knew they wouldn't be able to.

Dust swirled on the ground like a cloud dragged across the earth, condensing into a thick fog. Within the cloud, two blurred figures moved at extreme speed—spinning, colliding, and unleashing flashes of energy like lightning strikes, accompanied by deafening thunderous crashes.

Everyone—both humans and elves—stood frozen, watching the churning storm at the center. The combatants' movements were impossible to track. Their fleeting forms, the searing waves of energy spilling out, and the blinding flashes of light were beyond comprehension. It was as if two divine beings, whose battles belonged in the heavens, had descended to reveal their unmatched might and glory.

The sounds grew louder and faster. The air vibrated. The sharp energy gusts burned against the skin, and it felt as if the entire forest was trembling from their fight. The dust cloud spun faster and faster, confined to a ten-meter radius, contained only by the sheer force and will of the two combatants within. The stray currents of energy made it clear that anyone who dared step into that zone would be reduced to shreds. This was a separate world, one belonging solely to the two fighters.

Theodorus and Adra both wore grim expressions. Even with magical spells like Eagle's Vision enhancing their sight, they couldn't see the fight clearly, and that made them even more anxious. Grutt and Lancelote were the strongest warriors on each side, and the outcome of this battle would tip the scales irreversibly. Though the elves' interference prevented a fatal conclusion here, the larger conflict would shift dramatically based on the outcome.

The holy warriors' faces mirrored Adra's tension, if not surpassing it. Lancelote was their symbol of justice, their idol—someone who transcended human limits. He couldn't lose, he couldn't die. Yet, this battle had already surpassed anything they could comprehend. Their hearts were wholly absorbed by it. Only Jarvis stood apart, his serene blue eyes as calm as an ancient lake, staring unblinkingly at the fight, as if etching every movement into his mind.

Among the observers, Asa was the most captivated, perhaps even more so than the knights. While his strength was not the greatest here, his mastery of meditation allowed him to see the fight most clearly.

Through meditation, Asa could vividly track every movement, the flow of energy, and the intensity of each clash.

Despite his clear mind, Asa felt his blood boiling with excitement. Grutt's sheer explosive power and unrelenting aggression went far beyond human limits. His attacks were pure, and his combat style was terrifyingly simple—uncompromising offense that refused to yield. Asa believed Grutt could crush even the largest Behemoth head-on.

If Grutt's fighting filled Asa with awe, Lancelote's style elevated that emotion even further.

Lancelote lacked Grutt's overwhelming physical power, but he compensated with seamless skill, unmatched precision, and perfect integration of swordsmanship, magic, and battle aura. Every strike, every spell, flowed like a natural extension of himself, as effortless as breathing. It was simplicity distilled to perfection—sublime through its subtlety.

A white figure suddenly burst from the cloud—it was Lancelote, clad in radiant holy armor now riddled with cracks and dents. Suspended mid-air, he shouted, and a brilliant white light burst from his body, solidifying into an enormous Holy Cross Sword. Longer and more radiant than any before, its glowing blade stretched over ten meters.

If gods possessed weapons, they would look like this. All who saw it felt as though the blade could cleave them—and the entire forest—cleanly in half.

From the dust cloud below, another white light erupted. Unlike the Holy Sword's defined shape, this glow was formless but intensely radiant, illuminating the dust cloud until it became a blinding sphere.

Grutt's roar echoed like thunder. The earth and sky seemed to shake as the glowing sphere shot upward, colliding head-on with Lancelote's descending blade. The pressure alone filled every corner of space.

"Get back!" Asa shouted, though even he couldn't hear himself. He grabbed Theodorus and pulled back. Hilton and the others scrambled to retreat, as did Adra and the warriors, dragging the injured knights.

Sword and sphere collided.

A violent explosion of energy and light erupted. Trees near the impact were torn apart like paper, and several others splintered and fell. Hilton and the weaker onlookers were flung backward. Theodorus conjured multiple ice walls and shields to keep himself and Asa standing. Adra did the same, anchoring himself and his knights.

Two figures fell from the sky. Lancelote staggered to his feet, his holy armor shattered, his body covered in ghastly wounds. He stumbled toward Adra but collapsed, vomiting blood.

Grutt remained standing, though a deep gash ran from his left shoulder to his waist, bleeding profusely. More tellingly, his once-dark eyes were now clouded with gray.

Elder Lloyd, smiling faintly as though satisfied, waved for his elves to approach.

"Now we can have a proper talk," he said.