The dragon knight pulled the black spear from the ground, swung it skillfully in the air for a moment, regaining his grip. Then, he raised the spear with both hands, blades pointing forward, and assumed a horse stance, displaying a heroic confrontational posture.
The slender gun barrel, which blended into the night, was separated from the darkness by the purple holy energy that enveloped it.
Philsa knew that this holy lance was Celis's proudest weapon, and countless demons had perished on its cone-shaped blade, its indestructible sharpness piercing the hearts of countless monsters.
Standing behind the dragon knight was the brightly lit Adventurers' Guild, its lights even shining through the doors, and hiding inside was the assassin's prey for the night—the guild leader, Snova.
The three who first clashed with the assassins were the adventurers temporarily hired by Snova, who had received the "murder warning" this morning. Snova was extremely cautious about his own safety. Although the three were well-known in the guild, he was still not very confident in the adventurers' abilities. Therefore, he contacted Philsa, who belonged to the Silverwing Knights, and requested that another knight be assigned as his bodyguard.
Time seemed to stand still on the battlefield for a few seconds as the dragon knight calmly awaited the assassin's first strike. He met the enemy's blade with an unwavering stance, as if he were a one-man army.
The assassin teleported stealthily once more, but this time it carried an added wave of killing intent.
The crisp sounds of swords and spears clashing were so intense that they could not be discerned by ear. The two men, shrouded in darkness, moved so fast that they could not be tracked by the naked eye; all that could be seen was that wherever the weapons passed, the ground was left like ruins.
Philsa thought that Shirley, with her "eagle eyes," should be able to see things more clearly.
Undeniably, the katana surpasses any sword in offensive capabilities, capable of catching an opponent off guard. However, the spear is an excellent weapon, excelling in both offense and defense, with a more pronounced advantage in prolonged close combat. This is perfectly suited to the Dragon Knight's current predicament.
He was no longer able to clearly discern the other aspects of the battle, but the only thing he was certain of was that one side was attacking to defend, while the other side was attacking to break through.
Seeing the boy being steadily suppressed by the dragon knight's rapid-fire guns, he retreated to the rear of the battlefield. Although neither side had suffered significant losses, anyone with even a little experience on the battlefield could clearly tell who had the upper hand and who was in control.
Despite possessing overwhelming strength to suppress the assassins, the Dragon Knight refused to advance an inch. To the Adventurers' Guild, the Dragon Knight was like a barrier, an impenetrable defensive barrier. He remained steadfastly guarding the area near the guild's entrance, within the maximum range he could cover. Protecting the client inside was his ultimate goal. This was entirely different from the adventurers who had charged recklessly in pursuit of victory; Seris's protective instincts guided his entire action. Perhaps losing sight of their initial purpose was the main reason for the adventurers' defeat in this battle, rather than simply a matter of strength.
In this respect, Firza had the utmost respect for his friend.
What tricks have the previously astonishing assassins still up their sleeves at this point?
In fact, Philsa could never have guessed it until the assassin revealed that trump card.
The assassin lifted the sleeve of his right hand, revealing an arm wrapped in dark stripes.
The strange, snake-like runes, from the moment they appeared in the darkness and were exposed to everyone's gaze, changed from dark to a glowing gray.
"Did you feel it? That power?" Philsa asked Sherry.
"Hmm? That seems to be the case. But..."
There was no mistake; this power, this overwhelming roar, this intense pressure, was enough to churn the demonic veins within anyone present, enough to affect everything. Philsa would never forget this feeling of discomfort.
Emblem – A resurrection totem generated by the holy breath of the Light Stone, summoned from ancient times, a third kind of phantom ability that transcends the realm of magic and magical martial arts.
That was the mark of honor for warriors chosen by the Holy Stone. But why would this visitor from the night also bear such a sacred mark?
Felsa knew the characteristics of the emblem so well because he himself had once wielded that power. The faded, dull mark on the back of his hand was proof that the emblem had once existed. Thus, it was deliberately concealed by his white gloves.
Just as his emblem was still throbbing with pain, Firsa suddenly noticed that the broken streets, the area around the eaves where he was standing, and the dark, polluted sky were filled with bright silver particles, overflowing the visible field of vision.
Then came a bolt of lightning that suddenly burst forth high in the sky, shattering into thousands of falling thunderbirds before reaching the ground. The thunder was the sound of birdsong.
The lightning lasted for several seconds. Those outside the light barrier only perceived it as a few seconds, but the target inside, being slaughtered by thousands of lightning birds, would not think so. It must have felt like an eternity of suffering, stretching out into centuries.
Before the white light arrived on the battlefield, no one saw Seris escape from that area.
After the white light dissipated, Seris was seen kneeling on one knee. His impeccable armor showed no signs of damage, but some white smoke was beginning to rise from it. If one were closer, they could see him breathing heavily, as if he were hastily trying to catch his breath.
The assassin's movements ceased. Executing this insignia technique had greatly depleted his energy, causing him to move slowly for a period of time. Standing still was the best way to quickly gather his physical and magical strength.
The battlefield—it can no longer be called a battlefield; it's a chaotic battlefield where the outcome is a free-for-all of hundreds. Describing it as "endless ruins" wouldn't be an exaggeration, because not a single square meter of ground is intact.
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