CHAPTER 212: CHAPTER 211: THE SPEARHEART AWAKENED

Not far away, Gordon faced his own opponent, a Sengolio True Knight wielding twin axes. Their fight was a storm of power and precision. Gordon’s halberd spun and crashed, keeping the axes from closing in. He pressed his advantage slowly, forcing his foe to give ground with each calculated strike.

"Hah! You swing too wide!" Gordon barked, his halberd hooking one axe away before driving its butt into the Knight’s chest. The man staggered, but his armor held. The duel was still balanced on a knife’s edge, yet Gordon’s steady rhythm promised eventual victory.

Meanwhile, Garrick struggled.

His opponent was a Knight bearing a sword and shield, and unlike Gordon’s foe, this one fought with steady dominance. The shield slammed into Garrick’s guard, opening him up for heavy strikes that he barely deflected. Step by step, Garrick was being pushed back, his footing slipping in the churned mud of the battlefield.

"Your defense is crumbling," the Sengolio Knight mocked, his shield bashing forward again.

"Not yet," Garrick hissed, forcing his blade up just in time to catch a downward strike. His arms shook from the impact, but he refused to yield.

Blood stained his lips, but his will held. Though at a disadvantage, he was still standing, still holding the line.

And yet, despite the ferocity of each duel, the larger battle was tilting against the Sengolio. Their soldiers faltered, their Knights strained, and the united armies of Liraeth, the Church, and Lumberling’s monster troops pressed them back.

The war was far from decided, but the cracks in the Sengolio wall had begun to show.

The clash of armies shook the ground, but then...

From the direction of the town, where the Sengolio camp had been, a crushing pressure suddenly swept across the battlefield.

The air itself seemed to freeze.

A powerful aura exploded outward, heavier, fiercer, and sharper than any they had felt before. It wasn’t the steady pressure of a Knight One. It was far greater, the suffocating force of a Knight Two Stage.

Soldiers on both sides staggered. The weaker ones dropped their weapons, gasping as though their very chests had been split open.

Even the True Knights in the middle of their duels paused.

A wide grin split across the face of Gordon’s opponent. "Finally," he muttered. "You all are doomed."

Another Sengolio Knight chuckled, eyes flashing with savage delight. "Our commander has moved. This battle is already over."

Across the lines, dread crawled through their allies.

Gordon’s grip tightened on his halberd, his face paling. He knew what this meant. ’Lady Liraeth... if we fall here, all of you will die too.’ His swings grew heavier, desperate, as though forcing his body to fight back the fear pressing into his chest.

On the other hand, Garrick’s face was locked in a deep frown, his opponent’s shield smashing him back step by step. He could feel the difference, the suffocating presence of that Knight Two stage pressing down. His hand trembled on his sword. For a moment, a shameful thought crossed his mind.

’Retreat.’

But the word turned his stomach. To flee here would disgrace the Church. To abandon the battlefield would stain not only his name, but every oath he had sworn.

His opponent barked a laugh, slamming his shield forward. "What’s wrong, priest-knight? Your god can’t save you now."

Garrick’s jaw tightened. He spat blood but refused to answer.

Skitz, however, remained unnervingly calm.

His narrow eyes flicked toward the rushing aura in the distance. He felt it, the coming storm. But he also knew something the others didn’t.

If he and his Lord fought together, they could face even this monster.

The problem was simple.

He had to end his current fight. Quickly.

"Damn it," Skitz muttered under his breath, blades spinning in his hands. His gaze locked on his opponent, the axe-wielding True Knight, who grinned back, unaware his time was nearly up.

The axe came down with a thunderous crash, splitting the ground. Skitz darted to the side, moving faster than the eye could follow. His daggers flashed in the gaps of the axe’s guard, nicking the man’s arm, then his thigh.

"Stop running, coward!" the Knight roared, his swing forcing Skitz back.

But Skitz only grinned. "I’m not running. I’m cutting you apart."

The daggers blurred, dozens of shallow cuts weaving across the Knight’s armor joints, each strike weakening him little by little. The Knight swung harder, angrier, but the more he raged, the more openings he left.

With a final sidestep, Skitz slipped past the descending axe and buried a dagger into the man’s shoulder, twisting it deep. The Knight cried out, falling to one knee, his weapon clattering to the ground.

"Your strength is wasted on me. Big swings, empty threats, nothing but noise."

Skitz stood over him, dagger raised. For a moment, it looked as though he would end it.

But instead, his other hand snapped forward, releasing a surge of black tendrils.

"Black Bind."

The shadows whipped around the fallen Knight, constricting his limbs, locking him to the ground with suffocating force. The man snarled, but couldn’t move.

Skitz didn’t spare him another glance. He turned, eyes narrowing toward the rushing aura that grew closer with every heartbeat.

"I don’t have time for you."

Then he blurred into motion, speeding across the battlefield, straight toward the oncoming Knight Two.

...

On another field, Lumberling’s spear blurred, his strikes faster and heavier with every exchange. The old Sengolio Knight’s red armor was dented and cracked, his footing breaking under the relentless pressure.

"Impossible... you’re just..." the Knight spat blood, but the words were lost as Lumberling’s final thrust pierced clean through his chestplate.

The man staggered, eyes wide, then collapsed into the dirt.

Lumberling exhaled, his chest rising and falling. But the fight wasn’t finished. The Knight’s fading essence spilled out like smoke, and Lumberling drew it in, devouring every drop.

(You have devoured the Knight’s essence. 1,500 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight’s memories and experience.)

(Beginner Spearheart Doctrine Lv. 10 → Low-level Spearheart Doctrine Lv. 1. Power +2596.)

(You have learned the Active Skill: Beginner Spearheart Thrust Lv. 0 (1/1000).)

A surge of strength rushed through his veins, so overwhelming he almost staggered. His muscles burned, then cooled, harder and steadier than before. His senses sharpened, colors became vivid, movements clearer, the pulse of life itself louder.

It was as if the chains of his humanity had been shattered. His body brimmed with new vitality, his very lifespan stretching centuries ahead.