The Necromancer's Servant

"Unexpected to see a dark elf here." Grutt cast a glance at Jessica lying on the ground, his expression slightly surprised, followed by a cold snort. "Get up and get out of my way. I have no time for you."

Trembling, Jessica stood up and moved aside. Hilton and The druid stared at her, dumbfounded, completely at a loss. They had always assumed this companion with jet-black skin was just a nomad from the southern deserts. But the sudden appearance of these two mysterious individuals and the earth-shattering exchange earlier left them feeling utterly bewildered, as if lost in a fog.

"So this guy was waiting for you two," Lancelote's gaze shifted between Grutt and Theodorus, nodding thoughtfully. "It seems this matter isn't as simple as it appears. However, I'm not interested in digging into it right now. Just hand that person over to me. His Holiness the Pope has ordered me to bring him back, and I must take him."

"All nonsense." Grutt stared at Lancelote, his smile entirely devoid of goodwill. His voice grew colder and sharper with every word. "Is there something wrong with your head? Do you think I'd follow your orders?"

"I never speak nonsense. I'm giving you the best option," Lancelote countered with a faintly kind smile. "I can tell you're exhausted, and you were seriously hurt in the earlier fight. Your all-out attack failed to defeat Ederic. Engaging me again won't be pleasant for you."

"You're not looking so great either. I can see that dealing with this guy earlier took quite a bit out of you. And that sword of yours probably can't be used for now, right? The way I see it, the odds still favor us, two against three." Grutt slowed his speech, enunciating each word with icy deliberation. "Besides, we have reason to gamble. Killing you and the two temple knights here would be far easier than facing your army when you lead them to attack Orford."

Grutt's voice had hardened to a near-tangible chill, striking the air and everyone's hearts. His glare at Lancelote was like two gleaming swords, ready to kill at any moment.

Theodorus made no direct comment on Grutt's proposal, merely coughing lightly twice and casting a deep look at the three temple knights. Then, he reached out to heal Grutt's injured hand. Unlike Grutt, Theodorus didn't lay all his cards on the table, but this ambiguous stance was often more unnerving than outright threats.

Grutt's hand was healing visibly fast. But such superficial wounds, even if tenfold deeper, were negligible compared to the energy drained by clashing directly with the Holy Cross Sword. The expended battle energy was something no advanced healing magic could restore. And this applied to Lancelote as well.

While performing the healing spell, Theodorus' other hand wasn't idle. With a few casual gestures, he cast a series of auxiliary spells that lit up on himself and Grutt.

As the auxiliary magic flashed in succession, Hilton and the elves watching nearby couldn't grasp the significance. They didn't sense anything remarkable. However, the faces of the two temple knights gradually changed, and even Lancelote frowned slightly. Although these spells weren't particularly high-level, the sheer number and intricate effects were overwhelming. Nearly every mid-to-low-level auxiliary spell across all magical disciplines was cast, turning the two into walking exhibits of auxiliary magic. Together, the cumulative effect surpassed even the "Heaven's Blessing" of Glory Armor.

Moreover, the sheer complexity of these overlapping spells made them nearly impossible to dispel with purification magic.

More importantly, the speed with which Theodorus silently cast such a wide variety of spells demonstrated his mastery of magic control and vast knowledge. His ability to instantly and silently unleash spells had reached an almost transcendent level. A spellcaster who could fire off magic like a rapid crossbow in close combat was undeniably terrifying. No matter how formidable Glory Armor's defense was, no flesh-and-blood being could endure such an onslaught of continuous mid-to-low-level magic.

Lancelote sighed softly, nodding faintly. "I admit it. You two are likely stronger than the three of us. But we're not just three."

As if to confirm his words, the surrounding elves made way, revealing Bishop Adra and his entourage approaching.

The moment Adra saw Grutt and Theodorus, his expression shifted dramatically—from realization to ferocity—and then he burst out laughing. "Excellent, excellent. This is truly a gift from the Lord. All troops, attack! Kill them—"

Adra didn't finish his sentence. From the moment he began laughing, the battle had already started.

Before his laughter fully escaped his lips, Welleskay, gripping his golden war bow, had already drawn it taut, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. On the battlefield, reactions aren't delayed by long-winded declarations upon spotting an enemy.

In truth, among the arriving group, only Welleskay reacted immediately and fiercely upon seeing the two lords of Orford. His gaze locked onto Grutt, and his gaunt face flushed with an intense mix of rage, battle fervor, and killing intent. The deep-set eyes in his thin face gleamed with terrifying light.

In an instant, Welleskay had assumed a low stance, bent his bow, and nocked an arrow. As Bishop Adra's words were barely spoken, a meter-long steel anti-magic arrow had already shot forth like lightning—straight at Theodorus.

Although Welleskay's killing intent and focus were entirely on Grutt, his arrow targeted the elder beside him. With a single glance, Welleskay recognized Theodorus as the key player. In battle, spellcasters are always both the strongest link and the weakest.

Welleskay was quick, but Theodorus was quicker. The moment Theodorus saw Bishop Adra's group appear, his expression shifted, and he immediately pulled out a teleportation scroll. In a low voice, he said to Grutt, "Let's go."

However, Grutt hesitated for a brief moment, glancing at Asa on the ground. And in that moment, Welleskay's arrow was loosed.

The instant Welleskay fired, both he and his massive war bow blazed with dazzling golden light. Man and bow fused into one, making it impossible to tell whether the light came from the bow or Welleskay's own battle energy.

As the arrow left the string, a sharp, piercing whistle filled the ears of everyone within a hundred-meter radius. The sound wasn't from the arrow itself—it was from the air being torn apart as the arrow streaked through. The arrow was faster than sound, dragging the surrounding air along with it as it flew.

The Steel-Piercing Anti-Magic Arrow, over a meter long and as thick as a thumb, streaked forth like a golden thunderbolt, radiating dazzling brilliance and carrying the momentum of a battering ram. Even if its tip were not the razor-sharp steel capable of piercing gold and stone, but merely a wad of cotton, this arrow would still be deadly enough to crush anyone in its path.

Theodorus's reaction was nothing short of extraordinary. The moment he saw Welleskay's bow drawn, he instantly understood he was the target. But he didn't dodge. Even with dozens of auxiliary spells enhancing him, there was no way he could evade such an incomparably swift arrow. Nor did he attempt to cast defensive magic. While he could unleash such spells almost as quickly as blinking, whether it was a Whirlwind Shield or a Barrier, against an arrow like this, they would have been as useless as thin paper.

Instead of defending, Theodorus chose to attack.

His target, however, was not Welleskay, the one attacking him, but the nearest trio: Lancelote and the two temple knights. With a wave of his left hand, Theodorus cast a small-scale Slow spell. Then, in rapid succession, he unleashed two Frostbolts with his right hand, followed immediately by a Lightning Bolt with his left. In the blink of an eye, he had cast four spells from three different schools of magic. This display alone was enough to astonish the three temple knights.

But astonishment was all the spells achieved. The Slow spell was instantly nullified by the Glory Armor and the knights' powerful battle energy. The two Thunder Frost Ice dissipated into nothing under the swing of Christian's silver greatsword. The Lightning Bolt did manage to strike Lancelote squarely in the chest, but the white glow of battle energy and magic around him merely flickered slightly before extinguishing the spell, as though it had been swallowed by an ocean. Not a single spark remained.

Nevertheless, these four spells did succeed in delaying the knights' movements just long enough for Grutt to act. From the moment Welleskay fired, the three knights had also moved, their target being Grutt. The coordination and trust between these two groups became starkly evident in this brief exchange.

Welleskay's first move targeted Theodorus, fully trusting that the knights would simultaneously neutralize Grutt, the only one capable of saving Theodorus. On the other hand, Theodorus's perfectly timed attack disrupted the knights just enough to give Grutt the chance to intercept the arrow.

If there was anyone in the world capable of catching Welleskay's blindingly fast arrow with their bare hands, it was Grutt.

From the moment Welleskay's golden greatbow was fully drawn, Grutt had been on alert. He surged forward, and with a hand glowing with white light, he grasped the golden streak of light that tore and churned the surrounding air, reducing it back to its original form: the steel anti-magic arrow.

Boom, boom, boom. The ground trembled with each step as Grutt staggered back—one, two, three steps—before managing to stabilize himself. Each footstep left deep impressions in the ground.

Even after retreating three steps, Grutt's body wavered slightly, the glow of his battle energy dimmed, and his complexion paled ever so slightly. But in the very next moment, his dissipated energy and killing intent roared back with a thousandfold intensity, like a raging storm.

With a furious roar, Grutt hurled the anti-magic arrow back at Welleskay.

By this time, the sound of the arrow's return—its scream ten times more ferocious and piercing than before—completely drowned out the last lingering echo of Bishop Adra's unfinished and futile command.