“The priest is healing!” Jesse shouted, his voice piercing through the chaotic sounds of battle.
“His mana won't last long! Everyone, hold your ground and find an opening to break through!”
The guards immediately understood Jesse's intent. They began to deliberately engage the hidden operatives, pacing themselves rather than rushing to defeat them, solely to drain Clement's mana.
Every time a hidden operative was injured, Clement would cast a spell to heal them.
Before long, several potion bottles in his hands were empty. He threw them to the ground one by one, where they shattered with crisp clinks.
A few guards tried to bypass the chaotic melee and charge directly at Clement, but they were firmly blocked by the barrier of light, unable to get close at all.
While healing the hidden operatives, Clement occasionally tore open a scroll to fling fireballs, ice spikes, wind blades, and other magic at the guards.
A fireball slammed into a bench and exploded with a loud bang, sending wooden splinters flying.
A fireball grazed a guard's shoulder, instantly scorching his clothes. Grunting in pain, he continued to swing his sword and press forward.
Although the hidden operatives were outnumbered by the White family guards, Clement's healing allowed them to rise again and again after being knocked down.
However, as Clement's mana began to run dry, the intervals between his heals grew longer, and their effectiveness rapidly declined.
Some operatives' wounds were only half-healed, with blood still seeping out continuously.
Others stood up on unsteady feet, clearly physically exhausted, with fear creeping into their eyes.
The battle was fast-paced. Clement's healing grew slower and slower, and the light of his magic became increasingly dim.
The hidden operatives' attacks also gradually lost their initial frenzy. Some began to shrink back, their fighting spirit completely shattered.
“Shield Guards! Forward!” Jesse seized the opportunity and roared.
Two guards holding tower shields immediately rushed to the very front, raising their shields side-by-side to form a solid barrier that blocked Clement's magical attacks.
Fireballs exploded against the shields, ice spikes shattered into dust, and wind blades screeched sharply against the iron plating.
The shield surfaces were soon covered in scorch marks and cracks, but the two Shield Guards braved the onslaught, slowly advancing step by step.
Clement grew completely frantic. He wildly tore open the scrolls in his hands, hurling spell after spell at the Shield Guards to stop their advance.
But his supply of scrolls was limited; each one used was gone forever, and he had very few left now.
Sweat poured down his face, and the sleeve of his robe was scorched from one of his own fireballs.
With only a few potion bottles left at his waist, his mana was on the verge of exhaustion.
“Now's our chance!” Jesse spotted the gap before Clement could cast another spell and sharply ordered the attack.
Two Swordsmen immediately leaped out from behind the Shield Guards, thrusting their longswords toward the barrier of light.
The barrier of light flickered violently, letting out an overloaded hum before shattering like glass with a loud bang.
Clement was knocked backward by the shockwave of the shattering barrier, his staff slipping from his hand and rolling across the floor.
The remaining potion bottles at his waist also slipped off, shattering against the stone slabs and soaking the ground with potion.
The guards swarmed forward, instantly surrounding Clement.
Deprived of Clement's healing, the hidden operatives lost their only support and were quickly cut down one by one by the White family guards.
Some were slashed to the ground, drawing their last breaths, while others were cornered and threw down their weapons in surrender.
Clement was pinned to the ground by the guards, his face pressed against the cold stone slabs, his eyes filled with resentment and madness.
His hand fumbled blindly on the floor, suddenly brushing against a hidden dagger at his waist, its blade coated in dark poison.
He suddenly drew the dagger and, catching everyone off guard, lunged it toward Jesse's leg.
Jesse had been on guard. He sidestepped the blow and kicked the dagger out of Clement's hand in one swift motion.
The dagger spun through the air a few times before clattering to the ground.
“Take him away,” Edmund said, his voice remaining calm.
“Lock him in the dungeon. I will interrogate him personally.”
Just as Jesse was about to respond, a messenger suddenly burst through the church doors and stumbled to his knees in front of Edmund.
His armor was torn in several places, and he had already lost one of his boots.
“My Lord! It's terrible!” the messenger cried, his voice trembling.
“The Cross family is here! Zane Cross is personally leading their troops, and they've already reached the outskirts of town!”
Edmund stiffened slightly, a solemn expression washing over his face.
He slowly turned his head, glancing at the uncleaned corpses and bloodstains inside the church, before looking in the direction of the town gates.
He then quickly strode out of the church, stood in the square, and looked out into the distance.
Not far outside the town, a massive force was marching aggressively toward Calais Town.
At the very front of the procession was a banner embroidered with the Cross family crest, fluttering loudly in the wind.
Jesse quickly caught up and took a rapid count of the guards who were still standing.
“My Lord, our men have just finished a battle and suffered many casualties. Not many are left who can still fight.”
Edmund gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist, remaining silent.
He looked back in the direction of the town, then toward the church. The wounded who hadn't been moved yet lay inside, their low groans carrying over on the wind.
He exhaled slowly, suppressing the turmoil in his heart.
“Close the gates and prepare for battle.”
...
The market at the entrance of the dungeon was as bustling as ever, with adventurers carrying weapons and packs weaving through the crowd.
The cries of street vendors rose and fell, constantly echoing in the ears.
Bai Xuan led Phoebe through the crowd, her silver hair mostly concealed beneath her hood.
However, the double-bitted battleaxe, which was taller than her entire body, could not be hidden.
Passing adventurers cast sideways glances, some whispering among themselves, while others stopped to take a longer look.
Phoebe, however, remained expressionless, completely ignoring their stares. Her eyes, however, continuously scanned the various stalls along the road.
She watched vendors of magic scrolls demonstrating spells, and muscular men gathered around arm-wrestling, their veins bulging with effort.
Bai Xuan walked ahead of her, deliberately slowing his pace to wait for her to keep up.
The stone building of the Adventurer’s Guild sat in the center of the market, with a prominent shield-shaped iron sign nailed to the door.
Bai Xuan pushed the door open and walked in. Behind the front desk was the same young man from before, looking down as he organizing commission slips in an orderly fashion.
He looked up and saw Bai Xuan, freezing for a moment before quickly recognizing him as the adventurer who had taken the black-armored crawler commission last time.
Just as he was about to greet him, his gaze was drawn to the giant axe behind Bai Xuan.
The double-bitted battleaxe, which was nearly as tall as a person, was currently being cradled in the arms of a silver-haired girl.
The young man froze again, quietly swallowing a mouthful of saliva before shifting his gaze away.
“Register as an adventurer.”
Bai Xuan gently pushed Phoebe half a step forward, his tone brief.
Snapping out of it, the young man quickly pulled out a form from under the counter and slid it in front of Phoebe.
“Name?”
Phoebe remained silent, so Bai Xuan answered for her, “Phoebe.”
“Class?”
Bai Xuan glanced at the giant axe in Phoebe's arms and said calmly,
“Axe Warrior.”
The young man nodded and was about to write it down when Bai Xuan suddenly spoke.
“Aren't you going to verify it?”
The young man looked at the giant axe once more, then glanced at Phoebe's slender arms, his lips twitching uncontrollably.
“No need... I can tell.”
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