Chapter 1047: Act 219 – The Battle of Cold Dew Manor
Richard turned around and saw a radiant portal open in mid-air. A wrinkled old man stepped through it, dressed in a gray linen robe that made him appear like an ascetic. It was none other than Varla, the former Most Holy of the Temple of Fire.
Varla glanced towards the forest and squinted when his eyes fell on the shattered longsword in Brendel’s hand. He then turned to the four people in front of him.
A holy and majestic aura abruptly permeated the air.
Upon feeling this aura, Richard, Ruyer, Siban, and Willerk all changed their expressions slightly. They knew that this man had already been the top expert of the temple forty years ago, and now it seemed he had one foot firmly planted on the final step of the so-called forbidden zone for mortals and gods—the peak of the extreme realm.
As Varla steadied himself, another gray region in the sky receded like a tide, revealing a figure hidden behind it—a middle-aged man with a massive sword and graying temples. His appearance was unremarkable, seeming somewhat worn by the winds of time, with only faint crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes betraying a once charming countenance.
Yet the aura he emanated was astonishing—heavy and silent, making one feel as if standing before a great mountain. This man, despite his unremarkable looks, was instantly recognized by all present as Gray Saint Mephistopheles.
“Mephistopheles,” Richard spoke the name in a deep voice, his brow furrowing. A sense of dread filled him; the man was indeed of mid-tier in the extreme realm, equal to himself, making the upcoming battle all the more daunting.
The forest fell silent due to the sudden appearance of Varla and Mephistopheles, with only the crackling of flames breaking the stillness. The Flame-bound Knights were left somewhat dazed; on one hand, they were unsure of what to do, with some finally recognizing the Holy Sword Odrefice, while on the other hand, they were confronted by Mephistopheles.
This ‘demon of the empire’ was infamous in the hearts of every Crusian.
“The Path of Golden Flame does not merely converge,” the icy voice of the Queen echoed again. “What are you confused about? Is the only legacy the King of Flames left you to be servility? You should be clear in your own choices and distinguish right from wrong—”
“Your Majesty is correct,” to everyone’s surprise, Varla agreed. “You should have your own sense of justice. You must master your own fate. Right and wrong do not have eternal definitions; what matters is your own beliefs and stance.”
“As Flame-bound Knights, you should understand the true meaning of the Path of Golden Flame more than others, and thus you must be more resolute. Your current confusion only brings shame to the Sages.”
The knights suddenly realized their folly, displaying faces filled with shame as they drew their swords and bowed to Varla in apology, for what lay ahead—
Both sides were likely about to stand in opposition and battle.
“Most Holy, thank you for your guidance.”
“We will give it our all.”
Varla merely smiled slightly.
However, the Silver Queen watched this scene through the crystal ball with a frosty expression. Though they seemed to be helping her, in reality, this line of argument still did not stray from the definition of the Path of Golden Flame. It merely sidestepped the issue of right and wrong and in fact, negated her position of supremacy.
The key was that a seed of revival was planted in the hearts of these knights, and this was the true meaning of the Path of Golden Flame—it does not submit to anyone’s will, not even that of the highest of the temple.
As for a mere secular monarch like her, it was even less significant.
“These damned zealots,” she harbored dark resentment, her voice growing increasingly cold. “Varla, it seems you are dead set on standing against the Empire, even going so far as to side with this infamous enemy of the Empire, Mephistopheles. Are you willing to throw away the dignity of the temple as well?”
Varla shook his head. “Your Majesty,” he spoke, “I am here today only for the Holy Sword.”
The Silver Queen scoffed coldly. “So what? Do you know why the temple has split because of you? It is because you antiquated relics refuse to adapt to change, always placing your hopes on lifeless objects. Is that what the descendants of the King of Flames believe in—the so-called Path of Golden Flame?”
“That is not a lifeless object, Your Majesty. It is the bequest of the sage of the past. Remembering history does not mean stagnation; it means recognizing the merits of our past.”
“What you fail to see is that my ancestor, King of Flames Gilt, has long been cast aside by the world. The sages of old hoped for a world transformed, but today it has become something entirely different,” the Silver Queen’s voice dripped with disdain. “The times have changed, Varla; you remain shackled to the past.”
Neither Varla nor this Queen was debating this matter for the first time, but, as with every previous argument, there was no chance for resolution.
Varla remained silent, offering no rebuttal. The Silver Queen understood that at their level, mere words could not persuade, and while she scoffed, she discreetly issued commands to Richard to make a move.
At this point, they were at a disadvantage in terms of numbers, and the Queen did not intend to give her opponents any more time before rallying reinforcements.
She knew that they still had Sidney who had yet to appear, and since Mephistopheles had found Varla, they had no reason to let go of Tabor. Stationed in Tabor was the captain of the Imperial Guard, Talier, who had once been a student of Sidney. While he could be considered reliable in loyalty, he would not hold off their opponents effectively. By now, Tabor might have already fallen.
However, she did not care much about the rescue of those nobles. After all, they were merely bait.
Richard, Ruyer, and the others received the hint from Her Majesty simultaneously and turned to look at one another. As Ruyer and Varla were old acquaintances, he was reluctant to confront his opponent, while among the others, only Richard and Siban possessed the strength to fight back. Willek and Bradley were a notch below, being merely second-tier in the empire’s extreme realm powers.
After hesitating for a moment, Richard, the Grand Commander of the Flame-bound Knights, drew his sword, the blade of the empire’s finest sword “Guardian of Resolve” gleamed like a pool of silver light, blocking the way for the other three. He then addressed Ruyer and the others, “I will hold Varla. You all disperse to engage Mephistopheles.”
Everyone understood that with the situation as it was, it was unrealistic to think they could capture all their opponents. The best choice was to alter the power dynamics before Sidney arrived.
And among the three extreme combatants on the opposing side, Brendel was undoubtedly the weakest. So Richard’s suggestion was immediately understood by the others.
Among the three, the archmage Ruyer didn’t want to bully the weak, and with a wry smile, he went directly for Mephistopheles. With a flick of his fingers, he unleashed a bolt of lightning that arced nearly a hundred meters toward his opponent.
This was a six-ring air element spell—Linked Lightning. Though Ruyer was a rule wizard, he had no trouble with such “low-tier” elemental spells, and he was known for his super-magic techniques, allowing him to instantaneously cast spells of seven rings or lower. The reputation of the sky wizard was well-earned.
However, Ruyer’s greatest strength lay in spell countering—his Elemental Mirror Domain could reflect all magical energies. His title, “Return of Light,” came from this ability. Hence, choosing Mephistopheles as an opponent meant he was willingly engaging in a disadvantageous battle.
A bolt of lightning resembling a dragon lit up the night sky, turning the surrounding forest near Cold Dew Manor bright white. However, to this attack, Mephistopheles did not even draw his sword; he simply reached out and tore the lightning dragon apart.
Sparks of electricity rained down.
Yet Ruyer’s strike was merely to buy time. The moment Mephistopheles had just blocked this lightning, he felt the surrounding space folding in layers. Looking up, he discovered the space was sealing itself into a spherical form from bottom to top. Although the sky and earth remained unchanged outside the sphere, it felt like viewing through a crystal—blurred and distorted.
He understood that this was Ruyer’s magic barrier, but it was not the typical barrier of an ordinary wizard. Barriers constructed by wizards of the extreme realm often contained the forces of their extreme domains, and it was not an exaggeration to say it represented a more versatile extreme plain.
In an instant, Mephistopheles grasped the other’s intent. He then drew his sword, but at that moment, Ruyer had already concealed himself—not with an invisibility spell, which would have no effect in the extreme domain, but by genuinely departing the material world and entering a parallel dimension.
At the same time, two raging flames instantly took shape within the spherical space. If Brendel were present, he would certainly recognize these figures as resembling his Fire Giants, only much larger in size and exponentially greater in power—these were the Fire Giant Elders.
Once summoned by Ruyer, the Fire Giant Elder received orders to roar and charge at Mephistopheles. The Gray Saint was no novice in dealing with wizards; he was well aware this was an attempt to stall for time for more potent spells. Without a moment’s hesitation, he opened his extreme plain.
A gray world appeared behind Mephistopheles, likened to an endless, lifeless wasteland. The horizon and sky seemed to merge as one, but as he beckoned, silhouettes suddenly emerged upon the gray ground. They appeared as though they had “grown” out of the gray world, faceless and entirely gray, bearing longbows and swords, standing like an army of millions.
Without a need for commands, the gray figures lifted their longbows one after another, shooting forward. Countless gray arrows swarmed like a tempest; the two Fire Giant Elders were shot through, exploding into myriad flames.
Mephistopheles, holding his massive sword, remained motionless as the gray army surged forward, and with his gray realm expanding outwards.
Hiding in the parallel dimension, Ruyer found himself unable to stand. Though his body was not in the material realm, wasn’t Mephistopheles’ gray world the same? The space within the spherical barrier was nearly limitless, but his hiding spot was constrained. He had just begun to engage with Mephistopheles; he could not retreat thousands of miles away. The moment Mephistopheles’ army advanced, he immediately realized his opponent had seized upon his weakness.
This enemy of the empire, who had faced death countless times, was indeed formidable; no wonder he could frequently escape the empire’s encirclements and continually cause trouble for them. Ruyer had to abandon the common wizard’s arrogance and contempt for other professions, and now he must give it his all.
Silently, he murmured an incantation. Dark clouds quickly gathered in the spherical space, and an unending storm of lightning descended from the sky, instantly obliterating the gray army of Mephistopheles.
The gray army summoned by Mephistopheles was, in fact, a manifestation of his powers. With its annihilation, his domain was torn open as well, and he grunted as he felt a blow land upon him.
But at this moment, he located Ruyer’s position through a ripple of power triggered by Ruyer’s chanting. His massive sword surged forward like a crashing wave toward that direction.
The tumultuous laws immediately caused the entire space to tremble. Ruyer could no longer conceal himself in the parallel dimension; he had to reveal himself in the material realm. The next moment, a sword light several hundred meters long swept horizontally past his waist.
Ruyer’s figure wavered slightly, as if cut into two, yet no blood gushed forth—his severed body dissipated like broken water ripples in the air.
An illusion—
Ruyer then appeared from the other side of the sword light, though he was pale, and the ring on his right index finger shattered with a crack. Had it not been for this protective ring, he would have been cleaved in half.
That gray sword light could actually bypass his magical defenses, filling him with terror. After the previous round of combat, although his opponent was significantly injured, he had also lost an elemental pattern ring and a protective ring.
Most critically, he was forced to reveal his position. The greatest advantage of wizards in battle against warriors lay in their unpredictable magic, which constantly placed them in the active role. Once forced into a passive position—
It became the warrior’s domain.
…
And just as Ruyer opened his magical barrier and began to remove a section of space above Cold Dew Manor from the material realm, Richard and the others were each confronting their opponents.
Richard positioned himself directly in front of Varla, while Willerk flew downwards into the forest. However, the Grand Commander of the Flame-bound Knights was surprised to find that besides himself, the one remaining to obstruct the Most Holy Varla was none other than the Reverse Tower-wielder, Siban.
This unexpected action took him completely off guard—though his own strength was slightly inferior to Varla, delaying him for a short period should not be too difficult. Richard’s intention was for the other two to use this opportunity to subdue Brendel first; paired with Bradley’s extreme realm power, that young man Erluin would have no chance whatsoever.
Yet he forgot that his own soldiers, whose duty was to obey orders, were not the only ones on his team. Ruyer was a court wizard who answered only to the royal family, and Willerk was in a similar position.
Except for these two, the remaining man, known as the Reverse Tower-wielder or the Near-Deity Sorcerer, was an entirely external personnel.
Unable to resist, Richard glanced back at him, only to see an impassive expression on his face, showing no intention of trying to communicate—after all, this man was not one for words; his reputation was built entirely on his fearsome power and legendary experiences.
Siban had once come from a true commoner background, apprenticed under an aged wizard, and had fortuitously manifested an element. He had served in the imperial knight order, but due to his element “Reflection of the World” not being valued, he eventually left in obscurity.
All things considered, his experiences bore similarities to most wizards in the empire pursuing power and status. Yet, a few years later, when he reemerged in the public eye, he had already refined his element.
His element, “Reflection of the World,” could showcase all things in the material realm in reverse. It appeared to be a mundane illusion-based element, but upon refinement, this law revealed terrifying power.
For Siban possessed the ability to manifest the laws of the world in the realm of reality—not a trivial personal comprehension of the laws to create a domain but a genuine reflection of the laws themselves. The power of this reflected world was nearly hundreds of times greater than that of an extreme plain; its might was unimaginable.
Thus, it was no exaggeration for the public to call him the mage closest to divinity.
However, such manifestations were not without cost. Even he himself had only once successfully reflected the White Tower into the material realm, in which he had nearly annihilated an entire contingent of Nazharl with his own power, earning him the title of Reverse Tower-wielder.
But since then, Siban had not shown such extraordinary power again.
Due to his morning experiences, Siban had maintained an ambivalent relationship with the empire and was present here now because he was still employed by the royal family.
This employment, however, was not one of loyalty but rather one rooted in power and financial transactions.
Faced with such a person, Richard could not voice his dissatisfaction freely and understood that this person not only did not fall under his command.
“Very well, Willerk and Bradley should be sufficient to deal with that young man. Leaving this guy to me might make things easier.”
In the heart of this Grand Commander, he could only helplessly comfort himself with this thought.
