Chapter 365: On Deceptiveness, Completely Crushed

"Clang!"

The sword light, forged from brilliant golden radiance, swept across the ground, carving a deep, jagged scar into the earth. Remo, his legs bolstered by battle aura, darted sideways with unnatural speed. Within his eyes, the faint shimmer of his latent ability pulsed rhythmically, causing the golden arc to appear sluggish in his perception—the very reason he had evaded it with such ease.

His fingers danced toward the pouch at his waist, plucking several iron-forged flying blades. After weaving them through his fingers, he snapped his wrist, launching them with a series of sharp, metallic "dings"—a crisp sound laced with the chill of impending slaughter.

As a trusted enforcer under the Minister of Military Affairs, Remo’s expertise differed from Black Burn. If Burn was a war machine who incinerated legions with his berserk will and summoned firestorms, Remo was a razor-sharp dagger honed for the singular destruction of high-level foes.

The flying blades accelerated, shifting trajectories mid-air. Remo’s battle aura, manifested by his will as a Great Knight, stretched out like invisible rails, constantly correcting the lethal path of the projectiles, forcing them to converge upon Edward from every conceivable angle.

"Hum..."

The chime of his latent ability sounded the moment Edward raised his shield. One blade suddenly surged, a mere blur even to the eyes of a Great Knight, and slammed into the shield just as a radiant barrier began to bloom across its surface, wedging itself deep into the shimmering light.

"Cling-cling-cling-cling!"

A rapid-fire symphony of collisions erupted as the materialized aura struck the blades. Under Remo’s calculated guidance, every projectile converged on the single blade already embedded in the barrier, hammering it deeper and deeper into Edward’s defensive shell.

"Thud, thud, thud!"

Remo surged forward, his reflection caught in the surrounding ice crystals. Pushing his "Differential Vision" to its limit, he accelerated, his iron-clad fist clenching tight before slamming into the blade still lodged in Edward’s shield.

"Crack! Ping!"

The impact shattered the golden barrier. The relentless, piercing assault had dismantled the defense from within, rendering Edward’s protection momentarily void.

A flicker of cold light crossed Remo’s eyes. His aura-coated blade spun in the air, tracing a lethal, blinding silver arc toward Edward’s throat. The aura-blade and the steel itself merged, a singular, devastating force of destruction.

"Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!"

Yet, even with his barrier shattered, Edward revealed no weakness. As Remo’s strike neared his flesh, it was abruptly halted by another layer of aura, the friction between the two forces screaming in a high-pitched wail.

"The shield of Holy Light is broken, yet he still has his own latent barrier and aura-shield. Edward Walling, just how hard is this man?"

Remo cursed inwardly, a sense of impotence washing over him. From the start, he hadn't even grazed Edward’s skin; every strike had been swallowed by those endless layers of defense.

After exhausting his strength to shatter the Holy Light, his explosive follow-up had slammed into the "Bastion" latent ability and the double-layered defense of the Iron Sun Knight secret arts. He had broken through the outer shell, but could push no further.

"Click, bang!"

Edward stepped forward, his shield acting as a battering ram. As Remo’s attack was blocked, Edward slammed the heavy plate into Remo’s chest. The sheer force left Remo breathless, the taste of blood rising in his throat as he was sent stumbling back several meters.

"Cough, cough!"

Spitting blood, Remo braced himself, wary of Edward unleashing the radiant greatsword he had used earlier. Though the speed was manageable, the consequences of a direct hit were unthinkable.

He realized now that Edward’s tactic was pure counter-offense. The impenetrable defense made him nearly impossible to wound, while the counter-strikes during the gaps in combat compensated for his slower pace.

"A truly wretched matchup... Holy Light combined with defensive latent abilities. He is not an enemy I am suited to fight. But if you can't kill me either, what is your goal?"

Moving with rhythmic, measured steps, Remo circled Edward, searching for a new angle while guarding against a sudden assault. But Edward’s next action left him stunned and bewildered.

"Clang!"

Edward sheathed his glowing sword and stood perfectly still, his posture a silent declaration of surrender.

"There is no need to continue. I do not wish to kill you. After all, I am a member of this kingdom, and a servant of the Church of Light. Senseless slaughter is not what I desire."

Edward looked at the confused Remo, his expression calm, his tone tinged with pity as he shook his head.

"You are part of the kingdom? Then you should not be obstructing me. I serve Prince Doren Charlemagne, sent to purge the traitors. Why do you assist them against the crown?"

"We need not be enemies, Edward Walling. As the son of the Northern Duke, you should be helping me, not blocking my path."

Remo gripped his sword, speaking each word with deliberate weight.

"No, they are not traitors. And as for the kingdom..."

Edward replied softly.

"They are not traitors? Do you know what you are saying? You—"

"Squelch! Bang!"

Remo clearly had no intention of accepting Edward’s words, his retort sharp and immediate. But before he could finish, a shattered meteorite blade violently pierced the back of his skull, erupting between his eyes. A follow-up blow from a heavy fist pulverized his unprotected head.

The power of the Lady of Night faded, and Wang Yu, his presence masked, emerged from behind Remo’s headless corpse.

"It seems Xia Er was right. A guy like me, all shiny and golden, really does have an inexplicable air of deception."

Edward shook his head with a wry smile, speaking to Wang Yu, who was already transmuting the meteorite blade into his Weaver’s Grimoire.

"Son of the Northern Duke, hero of the capital, newly ordained Paladin of Light—who would believe such a man would fight dirty? If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have wasted a single word."

Wang Yu replied, his tone matter-of-fact. Remo had only engaged in that dialogue because it was Edward. Had it been anyone else, the veteran Great Knight would never have let his guard down, nor would he have been skewered by Wang Yu’s shadow-cloaked strike.

But Edward was Edward—so radiant, so righteous. Even as an enemy, Remo had found Edward’s "integrity" too deeply ingrained to doubt.

Still, Edward had spent too much time with Wang Yu and Xia Er; he was clearly influenced by them. Remo’s death was not unjust.

Of course, had Wang Yu not arrived, Remo would have been met by the radiant aura-slash Edward had been charging while pretending to sheath his blade. Why not use such an advantage?

"I am sorry about that, haha."

With a bright, cheerful grin, Edward grabbed Wang Yu’s arm, and under the influence of the flight spell cast from the Grimoire, they soared out of the snowy crater that had become the grave of two Great Knights.

...

Above, the battle between Avia and Paul was nearing its end. It was a one-sided crushing; Avia had suppressed Paul, a Grand Mage, from the very first moment. His mastery of esoteric spells and arcane knowledge was the only reason he hadn't perished yet.

Paul, currents of air swirling around him, darted across the snow, intentionally whipping up blizzards to mask his trail and evade Avia’s pursuit.

Avia’s figure flickered in the magical eye Paul used to monitor his rear. Drenched in sweat, Paul didn't hesitate to wave his staff, drawing upon the concentrated ice elements of the frozen wasteland to forge a jagged frost-wheel, which he hurled toward her.

The third-tier spell vanished into the wind and snow without a sound. Avia did not seem to be there.

But this offered Paul no comfort. The power the young girl had displayed throughout the fight made him feel as though his century of accumulated arcane knowledge was being dismantled.

In this environment, rich in ice but barren of other elements, Avia’s spells remained unaffected. Whether lightning, earth, or even fire—the polar opposite of ice—the intensity remained constant, even amplified.

More terrifying was her casting speed and the unreasonable strength of her magic. Every spell was instantaneous: fireballs, wind blades, lightning spears, earth lances—all sweeping in like a storm, and with uncanny accuracy. Any concealment spell he used seemed nonexistent to her.

The intensity of her spells defied their tiers. A simple first-tier fireball possessed the strength of a third-tier spell. Lacking experience, Paul had once tried to block a lightning spear with a third-tier shield, only to find it had the power of a fifth-tier strike.

His empty left sleeve and charred shoulder were the price he had paid. Having exhausted his entire arsenal of magical artifacts, Paul had lost the courage to fight this girl who shattered his understanding of reality. All he could do was flee.

This was the crushing sanction of "Over-Magic"—a revolutionary technique against a mage who had not mastered it. One could not gauge spell strength by tier; the spells were unaffected by the environment, and a mere trickle of mana granted low-tier spells the destructive power of high-tier ones, all cast with the speed of a cheat.

It completely overturned traditional mage combat. Every time Avia cast, it could be a trump card. Paul’s vast knowledge and experience were both the only reason he had survived this long, and the very factors that had led him into this dead end.

"Boom! Rumble!"

Thunder roared across the sky. Paul looked up with a grim expression. The perpetually clear sky of the wasteland had been swallowed by a thick, charcoal-grey cloud, casting a heavy shadow over him. The surging lightning elements within made Paul feel a primal, soul-deep dread.

Sixth-tier lightning spell: "God’s Wrath." An endless barrage of lightning was about to blanket the area. Escape would become nearly impossible. It seemed the girl, unable to match his speed, had chosen to wipe the area clean.

Earth elements converged, weaving a pale yellow shield that encased his body, while the air currents grew increasingly violent, propelling his flight to even greater speeds. All he sought was to endure the relentless, god-like fury of the thunder and escape this desolate expanse.

The activity of the lightning elements reached a fever pitch; Paul remained vigilant, bracing for the inevitable strike, yet in the moment the mana surged, he felt no bolt descend. Instead, the heavens opened, unleashing a torrential downpour.

The sky seemed to have been rent asunder, casting down endless droplets upon this perennially arid snowfield, igniting a sudden, unnatural deluge. The water cascading from the dark clouds far exceeded the vapor capacity of the storm, for these drops were birthed entirely from pure water elements.

A chilling premonition flickered in Paul’s mind—of course, the girl’s mastery transcended elemental constraints, so what then were those surging lightning elements?

Perhaps they were never lightning at all, but a ruse to cloud his judgment; this was no sixth-tier thunder spell, the Wrath of God, but something far more insidious.

Paul finally grasped the anomaly of the rain: within each droplet lay a spark of searing fire, a volatile synthesis of water and flame.

"Hiss!"

The fire elements within the water erupted in unison, releasing a staggering heat into every drop, instantly transmuting the rain into scalding steam that surged to consume the entire region.

"Aaaah!"

The defenses he had painstakingly prepared against lightning were rendered utterly useless,

becoming a hindrance to his next incantation; the very air currents he used for propulsion now swirled the blistering vapor, plastering it against his flesh.

His skin festered, agony flooding his consciousness as his fragile mage’s body collapsed within this infernal crucible, even as he made a final, desperate bid for life, struggling to manifest a heat-resistant barrier to carry him beyond the reach of death.

Yet, it was futile; the sky was choked with white mist, blinding him entirely. From the heart of the fog, a pitch-black object tore through the air, piercing Paul’s chest and leaving a gaping, bloody ruin in its wake.

Watching Paul’s corpse plummet from the sky, Evie emerged from the swirling white vapor, retracting the third-tier chaos spell, Spear of Distortion, she had readied for a second strike, her body shielded by a shimmering aura of battle energy that kept the scalding steam at bay.

The battle had reached its absolute end.