Translator: CinderTL
"No," Roland said, shaking his head gently in response to the witch's question.
His purpose in coming to this stone house was to destroy the magic array within, which was channeling magic to the towering spire at the city's core, preventing any further anomalies.
But more importantly, he needed to uncover the Lich lurking in the shadows.
If they could find it, either kill it or drive it away, the resurgence of Demon Capital Gilles would likely cease on its own.
The remaining problems could be dealt with gradually later.
And now...
Empowered by Psionic Self-Shaping, his mental power pierced through the thinning mist, extending its reach into the distance.
He could clearly sense that the battle between Graham and the Lich was nearing its end.
Compared to the unique energy fluctuations of Battle Qi, the death-infused negative energy had dwindled to the flickering flame of a candle in the wind, on the verge of being extinguished.
The outcome of the clash between the two transcendents was now clear.
Roland exhaled deeply, his gaze sweeping over his companions.
"Looks like that shadowy Lich is no match for Dean Graham."
He deftly sheathed his Mithril Longsword.
"Let's regroup with the Dean now and destroy the final magic array together. If all goes well, we might just escape this damned hellhole today!"
"Yay!" Avril cheered, the first to respond with enthusiasm.
The elf girl stretched, her slender waist curving gracefully.
"Finally, we can leave this place? Oh, soft beds... I can barely remember what it felt like to embrace you last time..."
Unlike Avril's exuberant reaction, the others remained relatively calm.
Orc Freddy dragged his massive axe from the rubble and hoisted it back onto his broad shoulder.
Theresa nodded silently.
As for Galvis...
The bard's long fingers unconsciously strummed the strings of his lute at his waist, a familiar, playful smile curving his lips.
"Ah-ha!" he declared, his voice clear and melodious, with its characteristic cadence.
"It seems the Harp of Fate is finally about to pluck the final note of this gloomy melody for us. Let us go and play the final act of this 'performance'!"
Before Galvis's words had even faded into the air, Roland and his companions had already turned and left the ruins.
By the time the bard emerged from his self-absorbed poetic reverie, all that remained was the sight of his companions' retreating figures.
"Hey! Wait up, guys!" Galvis called out, shaking his head in exasperation. He hurried after them, his footsteps echoing urgently across the desolate landscape.
In the heart of Demon Capital Gilles, on a square scorched black by negative energy, Graham swung his longsword, his silver-white Battle Qi blazing around him like tangible flames.
Each strike cracked the air with thunderous force, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
His heavy plate armor was riddled with spell burns and the corrosive marks of negative energy, silent testament to the ferocity of the battle.
His opponent, the Lich Ellis, was in even worse shape.
Its tattered, charred robes hung like a shroud over its decaying skeletal frame.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its pale bones, and the soulfire flickering in its eye sockets burned dim and unsteady.
Under Graham's relentless assault, the Lich was forced to scramble and dodge across the plaza. Every attempt to create distance and cast a spell was met with Graham's shadow-like pursuit, closing in relentlessly.
The longsword, imbued with terrifying power, tore through the air with a deafening roar, forcing the Lich to interrupt its spellcasting to parry or evade.
When the bone claws, wreathed in negative energy, clashed against the blade, they emitted a grating screech, scattering fine bone fragments.
The Lich's vaunted spells—whether the spectral green ray of Death Finger or the withering aura of Wither—were repeatedly disrupted by Graham's relentless, storm-like close-quarters attacks. Their power was severely diminished, and some spells even dissipated before fully forming.
The scales of victory had irrevocably tipped.
"Undead! This ends here!" Graham's voice boomed like thunder.
He seized the moment when the Lich momentarily lost its balance after a particularly forceful strike. Every muscle in his body tensed as silver-white Battle Qi instantly coalesced around the Mithril Longsword, emitting a piercing hum.
With the force of a mountain splitting, Graham raised the sword high overhead, compressing pure strength to its absolute limit.
With the power to shatter all in its path, the blade tore through space and crashed down upon the Lich's skull.
The icy grip of death seized Ellis in an instant.
Without his phylactery and the soul connection it provided, he was not truly immortal.
The soulfire in his eye sockets flickered wildly. At this critical moment, the Lich's skeletal hand crushed a black crystal hidden within the gaps of his ribs.
"Damn it!" Ellis hissed, his voice a dry, grating shriek filled with venomous hatred.
As the crystal shattered, a faint gray-black energy pulse erupted outward, rippling like a stone dropped into a still lake.
In the next instant, just as the destructive longsword was about to strike his skull, Ellis's decaying body blurred, becoming translucent.
The sword slashed down, cleaving through only a cloud of foul-smelling, decayed bone dust and wisps of rapidly dissipating negative energy.
Bang!
The sword's blade sank deep into the scorched plaza floor, sending shattered stone scattering like an explosion.
Graham slowly raised his head, his eyes burning with silver-white Battle Qi as he sharply scanned the empty space before him.
After thoroughly examining the surroundings and confirming no further anomalies, he let out a cold snort and wrenched the embedded sword free.
The violent Battle Qi coiling around the blade gradually subsided, eventually retracting completely into the weapon.
Suddenly, his ears twitched, catching a faint, unusual sound. His body instantly tensed, and the longsword he had just drawn snapped into a defensive position, ready to strike.
Just as Battle Qi was about to erupt from him again, a familiar voice called out.
"Dean Graham!"
Seeing the man's battle-ready stance and imminent attack, Roland froze in place and shouted loudly.
"It's me! Roland!"
"Ah, it's just you, kid."
Recognizing the young man's face, Graham's taut muscles finally relaxed completely. He stepped over the scattered rubble at his feet and approached Roland.
"Looks like..."
His sharp gaze swept over Roland and his companions, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Your progress has been quite smooth?"
Roland skipped the pleasantries and explanations, cutting straight to the point.
"Dean Graham, what about the Lich?"
"It escaped."
The Knight Academy Dean's voice carried a hint of frustration, but he quickly added, "However... I left a 'mark' on its decaying bones with a combat technique. That thing is still lurking within the Demon Capital."
"I see..."
Graham's victory brought Roland a measure of relief, but hearing that the defeated Lich hadn't fled but remained in the city, his brow furrowed deeply once more.
Does this mean...
The enemy still has a trump card?
After a moment's contemplation, he immediately voiced his concerns.
"Your assessment is correct," Graham said, taking a deep breath to suppress the surging blood and qi within him after the fierce battle.
"Therefore... I will continue tracking that damned undead. As for the final Magic Node..."
He turned his piercing gaze toward Roland.
"I'm entrusting it to you. No problem, right?"
"Of course."
After their brief exchange, confirming that no other transcendent professionals had appeared besides the Lich, Roland and Graham split up. Roland led his companions toward the final point of magic convergence.
Thanks to their well-coordinated teamwork, the scattered magitech constructs along the way posed no obstacle to their advance.
Within moments, the group arrived near a stone structure resembling the one where Graham had fought Holland.
"Wait!"
Roland abruptly raised his arm, signaling the group to halt. His brow furrowed with alertness.
He detected a scent in the air.
The fresh, metallic tang of blood.
The scent was unmistakably human.
Yet this location was still quite a distance from the area where Reggie's army was stationed...
(End of the Chapter)
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