CHAPTER 70: Sundara Pride Shattered
"Have a nice day," the knight leader said, his voice dripping with false courtesy as he turned his back, already signaling his men to move on.
For a brief moment, the road was quiet again. Dust settled. The sound of the capital gates creaking open echoed faintly in the distance. To any onlooker, it would have seemed as though the encounter had ended—another nameless traveler shaken down by the authority of Sundara's knights.
But Zodac did not move.
His hood still concealed most of his face, yet beneath it, his eyes sharpened and glowed. The anger he had buried moments earlier did not explode. It condensed—compressed into something far colder and far more dangerous.
"Shelter," Zodac spoke softly.
The word was barely audible, carried no farther than his own breath.
Yet the world answered.
A sudden pulse of green light erupted in midair, right where the knight leader held the stolen cross bag. Hectogon-shaped lines formed instantly, intersecting and locking into place with mechanical precision. The air warped as a **spherical shield** completed itself around the bag, glowing a vivid emerald, runes crawling across its surface like living veins.
The leader yelped in shock and instinctively released the bag.
The shielded sphere dropped to the ground with a **heavy thud**, sending a ripple through the stone beneath it.
"What the hell is that?!" one of the knights shouted.
The formation broke instantly.
The knights jumped back, boots scraping against stone, weapons raised. One of them—too bold or too foolish—stepped forward, leveling his spear at the glowing shield.
He struck.
*Clang.*
The sound rang sharp and metallic, vibrating through the air. The shield didn't budge.
He struck again.
*Clang.*
Harder this time. Still nothing.
"Again!" another knight yelled.
The spear came down a third time, then a fourth—each strike harder than the last. On the fourth impact, something changed.
The blade of the spear **flared bright red**, mana surging violently through the weapon.
"BOUND!" the knight roared, channeling everything he had.
He slammed the spear down with all his strength.
A blinding **red flash** erupted outward.
For a heartbeat, the world went white.
When the knights' vision returned, the spear lay **shattered** on the ground, fragments scattered like broken glass. The knight who had wielded it lay sprawled beside it, unconscious, smoke rising faintly from his gauntlets.
Silence fell.
Four knights remained standing.
"What…?" one whispered.
"How is that even possible?" another shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
"Draw your swords!" a third yelled. "It could be an ambush!"
Steel rang out as blades were drawn from sheaths. The remaining knights tightened their stance, spreading out instinctively, forming a loose perimeter around the glowing shield—and around Zodac.
The leader stepped back, his breathing heavy. Slowly, deliberately, he removed his helmet.
Brown hair clung damply to his forehead. A thick mustache and beard framed his mouth, connecting at the corners of his lips. His eyes—once smug—were now wide with disbelief as they flicked from the shattered spear to the intact shield.
Then, finally, his gaze locked onto Zodac.
The hooded man hadn't moved an inch despite all that had just went down.
The leader's brow furrowed. He raised two fingers to his mouth and blew sharply.
A piercing whistle cut through the air, echoing off the stone walls and carrying far down the road. Every knight froze, snapping their attention toward him instantly.
"It's him!" the leader barked, pointing straight at Zodac.
"He's the caster!"
All eyes turned.
Zodac stood there calmly, one hand hanging uselessly at his side, the other relaxed. The green glow from the Hectogon shield reflected faintly off his armor and cloak, giving him an otherworldly presence.
"Attack!" the leader roared. "Phoenix Formation!"
The knights moved with practiced precision. Boots hit the ground in perfect rhythm as they spread out, encircling Zodac in a tight semicircle—one to his left, one to his right, one slightly forward to the right, another to the left rear. The leader himself stood directly in front of Zodac, sword raised, stance firm.
"So this is Phoenix Formation," Zodac thought calmly, his gaze sweeping across them. "Efficient. Aggressive. Built to overwhelm."
"I don't know who—or what—you are," the leader said, gripping his sword with both hands, "but you are under arrest for assaulting a knight of Sundara."
For a long moment, Zodac said nothing.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Even while you were extorting money from me?" His voice was low, cold, stripped of emotion.
The leader smirked.
"And do you honestly think anyone would believe that?" he replied.
Zodac's lips curved upward beneath the hood.
It was not a kind smile.
"You're awfully confident," Zodac said, his tone almost amused, "for a man whose knight I just took down without lifting a finger."
The leader's grin faltered.
"How about I do the same to the rest of you?" Zodac added.
The leader's face hardened.
"We'll see who gets the last laugh," he snapped.
Then he raised his sword.
"CHARGE!"
They moved as one.
The knights surged forward, boots pounding against stone, swords raised high. Their movements were synchronized to perfection—each leap measured, each angle calculated. Four blades descended simultaneously, aimed to overwhelm Zodac before he could react.
The air shimmered.
Four Hectogon shields materialized instantly—one in front of each attacking knight. Light green, translucent yet solid.
*CLASH!*
Steel met energy.
Sparks erupted where blades struck shields, mana crackling violently at the points of contact. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the air, yet Zodac remained unmoved, his stance steady despite the curse gnawing at his left side.
"Don't stop!" the leader shouted. "Break through it!"
One knight roared, channeling mana into his sword. The blade flared **light blue**, pressing harder against the shield.
"AAAHHHH!" another knight screamed, his sword glowing **dark red**, veins bulging in his arms as he poured everything into the strike.
"AAAHHHH!" a third shouted, silver light flooding his blade, teeth clenched, body trembling.
The shields held.
They did not crack.
They did not waver.
Zodac watched them strain, their faces twisting with effort, sweat pouring down beneath their helmets. This despair was ecstatic, and his lips curves into a devilish grin as his eyes glow beneath the hood.
Author note:
Words in ** are for emphasis in the writing tool ** so I sometimes don't forget to remove them.