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墨書 Inktalez
A cold voice escaped from Lott's lips.
The Black Dagger easily pierced into Belster's skull with a soft sound.
Crimson blood flowed down from the blade.
Belster looked blankly at the ferocious expression on Lott's face, took two steps back, and ultimately fell backward.
Watching the breath of the handsome swordsman fade away coldly, Lott spat on him.
"Bah! Trash is just trash. I really don't know what Captain was thinking back then."
With a thud, he kicked the corpse over, and the dagger effortlessly sliced through the ordinary clothing, revealing the Golden Soft Armor underneath.
Under the reflection of the silver moon, this soft armor surprisingly emitted a faint glow. Despite enduring several attacks from Lott, it showed no signs of damage.
His face lit up with intense joy as he quickly stripped off the Golden Soft Armor.
Before long, a complete set of soft armor appeared in his hands.
Ignoring the nearly lifeless corpse on the ground, he gently caressed the item in his hands. The armor he had just removed still retained a slight warmth and some traces of blood.
Just as he was reveling in his joy, in an unnoticed corner, wisps of black smoke were slowly gathering from the body lying in the shadows.
The smoke rose and coalesced, resembling the shadow of the corpse standing in midair.
The moon above was almost eerily bright at this time.
It cast a long shadow of Lott standing in the moonlight.
A strange, cold breeze swept through the street.
Suddenly, Lott, who was carefully examining the soft armor, instinctively shivered, and goosebumps immediately rose on his neck.
He raised his head and glanced at the cold street, frowning slightly.
"Is it about to change?"
Abruptly, he seemed to sense something. He turned around sharply.
A pale face was directly in front of him, with dark pupils staring intently, the distance between them less than a centimeter, almost touching.
Drops of fresh blood fell from the back of his brown hair onto the ground, making a crisp sound.
Lott's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the eerie face so close to him.
This face belonged to Beltes, whom he had just killed moments ago.
"Damn it!!"
Without time to think further, an invisible aura surged forth. He quickly retreated.
The wind had slowly begun to pick up without him noticing.
The cold wind felt like hands caressing Lott's cheeks.
He pressed his back against a wall in terror. Rubbing his eyes, he realized that there was nothing where he had just stood, as if what had happened was merely an illusion.
Only a half-naked corpse lay quietly not far away, with bright red blood pooling around it.
The smell of blood stimulated his nerves.
"What the hell is this?!"
He tightened the soft armor in his hands and carefully strapped it onto his body.
As if to encourage himself, he patted his face.
Just as he turned around, thinking about leaving this troublesome place quickly, he suddenly felt a sharp pain coming from behind.
His long-standing battle instincts made him instinctively dodge to the side.
"Hiss."
The sound of fabric tearing echoed. A piece of flesh unexpectedly fell from behind him.
"Damn it!!"
A hint of ferocity appeared in his eyes, and without a second thought, he thrust the dagger backward.
"Thud!"
The sensation of piercing flesh reached his hand, bringing a moment of joy to Lott.
However, he soon froze, for the one he had stabbed was not someone he recognized, but a stranger in pajamas.
"What is this?"
He frowned slightly, feeling something was off since he killed Belster earlier.
But now,
The wound on his back was real, with waves of pain radiating from it.
Glancing at the stranger whose face he had pierced with his knife, he tightened his clothing and hurriedly left.
In a rapid run, the cold wind howled past his ears.
Twenty minutes later, in a pitch-black room.
With a creak, the door swung open, and a tall figure walked in.
Before long, the dark room was illuminated by bright yellow light.
Looking at the familiar room, Lott let out a gentle sigh.
The pain in his back and the soft armor around his waist reminded him that everything that had happened was real.
However, even though he had killed Belster, he had left without properly disposing of the body. It wouldn't be long before the guards in the city discovered it, and Captain would likely suspect him immediately.
Nevertheless, with the soft armor in hand, it was all worth it.
This miraculous item that was impervious to blades and bullets could allow him to change cities and start anew as long as he wore it.
A hint of joy appeared on his face. After simply tending to the wound on his back, he eagerly took off his clothes and put on the Golden Soft Armor.
The fitted armor clung to his body like a second skin, revealing every contour of his muscles.
Satisfied with the flexibility of the armor, just as he walked to the mirror to take a look at himself,
Lott's body suddenly stiffened, staring incredulously at the mirror.
Under the pale yellow light, the reflection in the mirror was not him but Belster, whose face was unusually pale.
His mouth slightly agape, eyes fixed on Lott, blood dripped continuously from beneath his brown hair, just as he had looked moments before Lott killed him.
An inexplicable emotion surged in Lott's chest. He suddenly drew a dagger and lunged at the mirror.
"Go die!!!"
'Puff!'
'Bang bang bang'
Suddenly, his vision plunged into darkness, and the sound of dripping water echoed in his ears.
A sharp pain gripped his neck, causing him to slightly open his eyes.
Silver Moonlight filled the entire street, and a cold breeze brushed against his cheek.
Lott lay on the ground, wide-eyed, blood continuously oozing from his neck, quickly soaking the ground beneath him.
Due to the dagger piercing his trachea, he was now unconsciously making gasping sounds.
His strength was slowly fading away, and he hazily saw a pair of black boots approaching. With a thud, they kicked his body, turning him face up.
Under the moonlight, a familiar face appeared in his line of sight, causing his once wide-open eyes to suddenly freeze, and then his vision faded into darkness again.
...
On another street corner where Lott had died, atop a tall tower.
A blonde woman in a white robe stood quietly there.
Her handsome features showed no trace of emotion; her eyes emitted a faint green light as if she could see that street from a great distance.
Freya frowned slightly as she watched everything that had just happened.
In her view, the mercenary she had manipulated had successfully stabbed Belster according to plan.
But just as he was about to leave after removing his soft armor, his entire body suddenly trembled. Then it felt as if time had stopped.
This state lasted for about five minutes, after which a look of fear appeared on his face, and he raised the dagger in his hand and plunged it fiercely into his own neck.
At that moment, the corpse that had originally been dead slowly stood up, as if nothing had happened, picked up the stolen items, and turned to disappear into the shadows.
This unusual scene made Freya purse her lips.
"Truly a Necromancer. Even when severely injured, they can still perform such a curse. However, it seems this is all they can do."
Freya was not particularly worried about the curse; to some extent, Spirits also belonged to the Cursed Department. She had begun to develop a certain immunity to Spirits or illusions by now.
Especially after frequently entering and exiting that Ruined World.
It seemed that her entire body's constitution was slowly undergoing some kind of change, akin to a slow erosion by World Power.
Of course, this erosion appeared to be benign at present.
However, Freya was concerned that besides the curse, he might have other trump cards for survival.
The long lifespan of every wizard allowed them to accumulate some last-resort measures. Even at this stage, Freya believed that this person would not be easily dealt with.
She even had a vague feeling that this person's level of danger might be more troublesome than that of the one from Cursed Month.
Watching Belster's figure completely vanish into the darkness,
Freya thoughtfully took out a white mask from her waist. After a pause, she turned and left.
......
Four hours later.
Outside Raymond City, on the continent heading towards the southern suburbs, four silver carriages were moving swiftly.
On either side of the carriages were knights riding warhorses, clad in Silver Armor.
The helmets concealed their faces, but the stern gazes indicated that something significant was about to happen.
In the last carriage, Freya sat with her eyes slightly closed, her fingers lightly tapping on the table. A faint yellow gold powder slowly drifted from the top of her head.
On the table lay a stack of white papers, which contained some collected information about Mersais from the Countess.
From the Countess's rudimentary data, she deduced that this wizard, who graduated from Cursed Month, likely specialized in the Ice Element within the school of Transmutation.
Anyone who had faced him had either been pierced through by sharp weapons or had their Heart frozen to death.
Moreover, judging by the level of power displayed, it was not insignificant.
However, Freya did not regard such traditional wizards with much concern.
As a Melee Wizard who fought using her own body, she had several strategies to deal with traditional wizards who relied on ranged attacks.
Not to mention that he was merely a newcomer who had been promoted for less than two months.
At this moment, Freya was focused on gradually deciphering the prophetic knowledge that the Countess had provided her earlier.
Through meticulous research, she had begun to uncover some tricks related to the Language Department.
Although she was not yet able to predict precise or complex matters, she found that she could accurately foresee rough events about eighty percent of the time.
After keeping her eyes closed for a while, she slowly opened them and took out a fist-sized mirror from beside her, gently tapping it.
"Crack."
The sound of shattering immediately followed, and a dense web of cracks spread across the side that Freya had struck, resembling the branches of a tree.
After looking at the mirror for a while, she gently set it down.
Then, she took out two slender metal rods from her waist pouch, inscribed a different rune on each rod, and then struck them together forcefully.
"Bang!"
The two metal rods broke apart in response.
Frowning slightly as she looked at the four broken pieces in her hand, she eventually tossed them carelessly behind her.
After a moment of thought, she murmured softly.
"It seems that the accuracy of the Mirror Divination Technique is considerably lower than that of Sticks Divination."
This time, she had tested both methods to predict the outcome of the upcoming duel. However, from the shattered cracks in the mirror and the length of the broken metal rods, she derived two different results.
One indicated a tie, while the other suggested victory.
Nevertheless, based on Freya's own calculations, unless some unforeseen event occurred, the chances of victory were much greater than average.
She reached out to lift the curtain of the carriage and glanced at the outside environment before softly asking a knight closest to the carriage.
"How long until we reach Watchtower?"
Upon hearing Freya's question, the knight immediately lifted his helmet and respectfully replied.
"Milady, we will arrive in about half an hour."
"Alright, I understand." She nodded lightly and drew the curtains.
This time, the people sent by the Countess could almost be considered the elite of Raymond City. Although their numbers were not large, the lowest level of strength among them belonged to the Junior Knight Level.
In addition to the Countess and Felix, there were also two newly promoted Great Knights among them.
At this level, even Freya herself would likely choose to avoid confrontation.
While it wouldn't pose a life-threatening danger, the aura emitted by a Great Knight could indirectly breach one's defensive Force Field to some extent.
Moreover, there were also some Great Knights who had mastered Special Sword Techniques. (To be continued)
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