The Necromancer's Servant

"Apologies, though I know we likely stand no chance, I still won't surrender," Asa sighed, looking calmly at the three Temple Knights.

"Don't push your luck, boy," the spear-wielding Temple Knight growled, his stern, blackened face already showing anger. He couldn't understand why Lord Lancelote would waste so much time on this wanted criminal. In his view, dealing with such a heinous felon should involve crippling him directly, leaving just enough life to report back to His Holiness the Pope.

"I'll hold them off. You three split up and run," Asa whispered to Hilton and the others behind him. Then, bending his body, the glow of fighting spirit began to flicker across him.

But before Hilton's group could move, the two Temple Knights flanking Lancelote acted first. Their figures blurred as they dashed swiftly to either side, not attacking outright but cutting off possible escape routes.

Asa roared and charged straight at the spear-wielding knight.

With a resounding clang, blade met spear. The crimson energy on Asa's blade clashed fiercely with the white magical glow of the spear, the collision producing hissing sounds like red-hot iron striking ice. In mere moments, blade and spear struck each other dozens of times. Then, the two figures parted—Asa was forced back to his original position, while the knight successfully regrouped with his sword-wielding companion and Lancelote, forming a triangular encirclement. Though the formation was spacious, the coordinated aura it emitted was more impenetrable than any wall of iron, leaving Asa and his companions with no chance of escape.

The Temple Knight's shining armor bore a dent on his chest, but under the glow of white magic, it slowly mended itself. Meanwhile, Asa's forehead bore a gash so deep it nearly exposed bone, with blood gushing out and dyeing his face crimson. He cast a healing spell to staunch the bleeding, then turned to the others and asked, "Why didn't you escape when you had the chance?"

"Covering for us to escape? Boss, you are really loyal and selfless, but even if I wanted to run, I couldn't," Hilton said, sitting on the ground. Though he had caught his breath and no longer looked half-dead, he clearly wasn't in any condition to run. The momentary opportunity Asa had created to delay the knights had slipped by, and neither Druid nor Jessica had managed to take it either.

"I'm too slow to react; even if I tried, I couldn't escape," said Druid, reverting to human form and removing his helmet with a sigh. Although his combat power in wolf form was undeniable, his reactions and judgment still mirrored his honest, middle-aged human self. He lacked the wild instincts of a pure werewolf, and even Hilton, with his battlefield experience, could react quicker to situations than he could.

"And you?" Asa glanced at Jessica. With her speed and agility, she could have easily escaped; her remaining behind was clearly a matter of choice. It moved him slightly—though their relationship wasn't deep or longstanding, there was an odd sense of intimacy between them.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I didn't stay just because of you," Jessica said coolly, giving Asa a sidelong glance. Then, reaching up, she removed her mask. Ever since they had spotted the Temple Knights from their perch on the tree, Jessica had been acting strangely. But with her mask on and the urgency of the situation, Asa hadn't paid much attention.

As Jessica inexplicably took off her mask, Asa and the others were slightly startled. However, the Temple Knight holding the gleaming silver greatsword was visibly shocked, exclaiming, "It's you?"

Lancelote and the other Temple Knight glanced at their companion in surprise, but Asa was even more baffled. He never would have guessed that Jessica, a dark elf who casually shared his bed, would turn out to have some past connection with a Temple Knight.

"You… how are you here?" The greatsword-wielding knight's expression twisted strangely. Beneath his disbelief lay a complex mix of emotions: joy, sorrow, embarrassment, and nostalgia—an unfathomable tangle that shattered his calm demeanor entirely. His upright posture, steady aura, and unshakable composure—all hallmarks of a master swordsman—vanished in an instant, leaving him defenseless as a novice.

The knight, always poised and imposing like his massive greatsword, was now like a flustered youth overwhelmed by seeing an old flame. Even a street thug could've taken advantage of his state to stab him in the back.

"Your ears… your hair… your eyes… how did you come to the surface?" The knight stammered, staring at the dark elf.

Jessica reached up and gently brushed aside her black hair, revealing two shocking scars near her ears. She looked at the temple knight and said calmly, "If I didn't do this, how could I come to find you? As for my eyes, I secretly used the Darkfire Pearl, a treasure of my clan, as a price to beg High Priestess Tima to replace them with a pair of human eyes for me."

"You… that means… you can't return anymore… How long have you been on the surface?" The knight's voice trembled, his entire body shaking.

"I came up shortly after you left, originally to find you. But once I learned you'd become a renowned Temple Knight, I lost interest in looking," Jessica said, gesturing to Asa. "This is my man now. I prefer him, so I plan to help him. I know you won't lay a hand on me—will you? You don't dare."

"You…" The knight's expression contorted in agony.

"Christian!" Lancelote's stern voice rang out, jolting the knight back to reality. The commanding tone didn't just startle Christian; it made everyone's hearts skip a beat. Though not deafening, Lancelote's voice seemed to resonate directly with their souls.

"My apologies, Lord Lancelote," Christian said, bowing and stepping back. Though he no longer spoke or even glanced at Jessica, the fighting spirit that had radiated from him was completely gone. The encirclement was now effectively broken.

Lancelote sighed softly, his gaze lingering briefly on Christian and Jessica before finally resting on Asa. "I didn't expect such a coincidence to occur here… But we needn't concern ourselves with them. Let's continue discussing the matter at hand."

Asa shifted his gaze away from Jessica and the temple knight, locking eyes with Lancelote's brown pupils.

"If you're hesitating to surrender because you're worried about this dark elf or your two companions being killed, you can set your mind at ease. I have no interest in them. If you come with me, I promise not to harm you in the slightest."

"Is that so? Then I must thank you." Asa nodded politely, as if expressing gratitude. "But I still won't surrender."

"Oh? Why not?" Lancelote was neither angry nor impatient.

"Because surrendering, like scheming and trickery, might be rational, but it doesn't suit my character." Asa sighed, half-regretful, half-resigned. His gaze was like a legendary blunt-edged greatsword—without sharpness, only heaviness and resolve. "I've come to realize that I'm ill-suited to environments full of intrigue and unpredictable danger. After this failure, I've learned something: no matter the situation, no matter the changes or uncertainties, I should focus on what's within my capacity and true to my nature. That's the only thing I can control. So, I've stopped overthinking. My character will never allow me to sit idly by and await my fate. If you want to capture me, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Very well." A gleam flashed in Lancelote's eyes—not sharp, but rather with a hint of admiration. "Since that's your decision, I'll personally take you down."

The temple knight with the black complexion and war spear shook his weapon and declared, "Sir, there's no need for you to act. I can—"

Lancelote raised a hand, silencing the knight's words, and stepped forward toward Asa.

Asa felt as if a colossal mountain had taken a step closer to him—vast, imposing, and unfathomable. He took a deep breath, gathering his fighting spirit.

Lancelote took another step forward. His movements seemed unremarkable, but they were so harmonious and fluid that his entire being resonated with his steps. Every breath, every bone, every muscle, and even the beat of his heart were perfectly synchronized with his stride.

Asa remained crouched in place, motionless, his meditation technique operating at full power, making his fighting spirit surge through his body like a torrential flood.

Hilton and the other two behind Asa couldn't fully comprehend the situation, but the two temple knights observing the scene—Edrick and Christian—looked increasingly astonished. As seasoned warriors, they could sense the strange, intricate changes in Asa's body, where every nerve, muscle, and strand of fighting spirit seemed to merge seamlessly.

Asa's meditation heightened his perception to its limits. He could clearly feel every detail of Lancelote's approach, but the more he observed, the more he perceived Lancelote's towering, inscrutable presence.

Despite his absolute vigilance, Asa could sense imperfections within himself—tiny inconsistencies in muscles and nerves that hadn't fully aligned. By contrast, the seemingly casual steps of his opponent exuded absolute cohesion. Lancelote didn't merely walk; his movements were an extension of his breathing, his heartbeat, his essence.

To Asa, Lancelote wasn't simply a man approaching him; he was a mountain.

The most unsettling realization struck Asa as Lancelote took a third step forward: he could not summon the killing intent he had felt during his life-or-death encounter with Grutt. This was not because his combat instincts had dulled, nor because Lancelote exuded more killing intent than Grutt. On the contrary, it was because Lancelote emanated no killing intent at all.

In the presence of an overwhelming, terrifying threat, primal instincts would ignite a surge of bloodlust and ferocity. But faced with a majestic and towering mountain, no matter how savage or wild, no beast could muster such emotions. Even the fiercest predator would not direct its ferocity at an unassailable peak—it was not madness.

For a fleeting moment, Asa even contemplated surrendering.

But that thought was quickly extinguished, replaced by an even fiercer determination. Without killing intent, his fighting dtermination burned brighter and stronger. If his opponent was not an enemy but an insurmountable mountain, then he would climb it, conquer it, and revel in the possibility of standing atop its summit. That thrill, buried deep within the human soul, was as primal as the urge to kill.

While bloodlust drove one's veins and mind to frenzy, this primal thrill ignited the soul, consuming one's willpower in an ecstatic blaze.

Lancelote's steps slowed as Asa's fighting spirit grew thicker and more intense.

When Lancelote was within ten meters of Asa, the latter's aura, which had been glowing brightly, began to wane. Lancelote's pace slowed further.

When the glow of Asa's fighting spirit vanished completely, he closed his eyes. Lancelote's steps became agonizingly slow.

The expressions on the faces of the two temple knights gradually shifted from astonishment and anger to a grave seriousness. Even the fire of battle ignited in their eyes as their gazes locked unwaveringly on Lancelote and Asa, not even blinking.

Behind Asa, Hilton and the others, along with the surrounding onlookers—elves standing at a distance—instinctively sensed the palpable tension in the air. All fell silent.

Every gaze was fixed on the two figures steadily converging. The heart of Turaleone became quieter than the Whispering Forest.