Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

"No."

Roland gently shook his head in response to the Witch’s question.

He had rushed to this stone house to destroy the Array inside it—the one funneling Magic Power to the towering spire at the city’s core—and to stop the strange transformation that was about to unfold.

But more importantly, he needed to uncover the tracks of the Witch Demon lurking in the shadows.

If he could just find it and either kill or banish it, the reappearance of Magic City Jiles would almost certainly come to a quiet halt.

Any remaining trouble could be dealt with slowly over time.

And now...

Under the enhancement of [Spiritual Self-Formation], his Spiritual Power pierced through the thin mist, extending into the distance to probe his surroundings.

He could clearly sense that the battle between Graham and the Witch Demon was nearing its end.

Compared to the unique energy fluctuations of Fighting Spirit, the wave of Negative Energy, steeped in the aura of death, had grown as faint as a candle flame flickering in the wind.

Clearly, the victor between the two Transcendents had been decided.

Roland let out a long breath, his gaze sweeping over the partners beside him.

"Folks, it seems that skulking Witch Demon was no match for Dean Graham."

He slid his Secret Silver Longsword cleanly back into its sheath.

"Let’s go meet up with the Dean and destroy the last Array together. If all goes well, we might be able to leave this damn ghost town today!"

"Alright!"

Avril was the first to respond with a cheerful leap.

The Elf Maiden stretched her limbs, revealing the slender curve of her waist.

"Can we finally leave this place? Oh, my soft bed... I can hardly remember what it feels like to embrace you..."

Unlike Avril’s jubilant reaction, the others were relatively calm.

Beastman Freddy dragged his Giant Axe from the rubble and heaved it back onto his broad shoulders.

Teresa nodded in silence.

As for Galvis...

The Minstrel’s long fingers unconsciously brushed against the strings of the Lute at his waist, a familiar, playful curve touching his lips.

"Aha!"

His voice was clear, carrying its characteristic lilt.

"It seems the Harp of Fate is finally about to pluck the last note for our departure from this gloomy movement. Let us go and play the finale for this ’performance’!"

But before Galvis’s words had even faded into the air, Roland and the others had already turned and left the ruins.

By the time the Minstrel snapped out of his self-absorbed poetic trance, his partners had left him with nothing but a view of their retreating backs.

"Hey! I said wait for me, folks!"

Galvis shook his head helplessly, shouted, and hurried to catch up with Roland and the group.

...

...

In the center of Magic City Jiles, on a plaza blackened by the corrosion of Negative Energy.

Graham swung the longsword in his hand, his body wreathed in a silvery-white Fighting Spirit that rose like tangible flames.

Every slash came with a sonic boom that tore through the air and enough power to shake the very earth.

His heavy Plate Armor was covered in dents and scorch marks from magic burns and Negative Energy corrosion, a silent testament to the ferocity of the battle.

His opponent, the Witch Demon Ellis, was in an even more wretched state.

The Magic Robe on its body was tattered and scorched, hanging from its decaying skeleton like a burial shroud.

The pale bones that formed its body were riddled with cracks, and the Soul Fire flickering in its eye sockets had grown dim and unsteady.

Under the fierce assault, it was forced to scramble and dodge across the plaza. Every time it tried to create distance to chant a spell, Graham would stick to it like a shadow.

The Longsword, filled with terrifying Power, tore through the air with such force that it was forced to interrupt its Casting to either block or evade.

Its Negative Energy-wreathed bone claws shrieked as they blocked, sending tiny bone fragments flying.

Its prized spells, whether it was the ghastly green ray of [Death Finger] or the withering aura of [Wither Death Art], all of them were greatly diminished in power, or even forced to dissipate before they could fully form, because Graham’s relentless, storm-like close-quarters assault constantly disrupted its casting rhythm.

The scales of victory had tipped beyond a doubt.

"Undead! It ends here!"

Graham’s voice rumbled like distant thunder.

He keenly spotted the moment the Witch Demon lost its balance from a powerful chop. His muscles bulged as his silvery-white Fighting Spirit instantly converged on his blade, which let out a piercing hum.

He raised the Longsword high above his head with the force to split mountains and shatter stone, pure Power compressed to its absolute limit.

Wielding the might to pulverize anything, he cleaved down at the Witch Demon’s skull, tearing through space itself.

The chill of death seized Ellis in an instant.

Without having yet obtained a Life Box and established a soul connection with it, he was not truly immortal.

The Soul Fire in its eye sockets pulsed wildly. In that critical moment, the Witch Demon’s withered, bony claws suddenly crushed a black crystal hidden between its ribs.

"Damn you!"

Ellis let out a dry, piercing shriek filled with venomous hatred.

As the crystal shattered, a faint, grayish-black ball of energy suddenly expanded outward.

It spread like the ripples from a pebble dropped into a calm lake.

The next moment, just as the Longsword containing destructive Power was about to strike its skull, Ellis’s decaying body abruptly blurred and turned transparent.

The Longsword fell, but it only scattered a cloud of foul-smelling, decayed bone dust and a few wisps of quickly dissipating Negative Energy smoke that had been left in its place.

BANG!

The blade drove deep into the plaza’s scorched ground, sending shattered stones flying like shrapnel.

Graham slowly raised his head, his eyes burning with silvery-white Fighting Spirit as he scanned the empty space before him.

After carefully probing his surroundings and confirming there were no other anomalies, he snorted coldly and pulled his Longsword from the ground.

The violent Fighting Spirit coiling around the blade slowly subsided, eventually receding completely.

Suddenly, his ears twitched. He caught a faint, unfamiliar sound and his body tensed instantly. He brought the freshly drawn Longsword horizontally before him, assuming a Charge stance.

Just as his Fighting Spirit was about to erupt once more, a familiar voice called out.

"Dean Graham!"

Seeing the Dean’s battle-ready posture and poised attack, Roland immediately stopped in his tracks and shouted loudly.

"It’s me! Roland!"

"So it’s you, kid."

Recognizing the young man’s face, Graham’s tense body finally relaxed completely.

He stepped over the scattered rubble at his feet and walked up to Roland.

"Looks like..."

His sharp gaze swept over the young man and his partners, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Your progress has been quite smooth?"

Roland skipped the pleasantries and explanations, asking directly.

"Dean Graham, what about the Witch Demon?"

"It escaped."

The Dean of the Knight Academy’s voice held a trace of resentment, but he quickly added,

"But... I used a Combat Skill to leave a little ’mark’ on its rotten bones. That thing is still somewhere in this Demon City."

"Is that so..."

Graham’s victory put Roland’s mind at ease for a moment, but hearing that the Witch Demon hadn’t fled after its defeat and had instead remained in the city made his brow furrow deeply again.

’Does this mean... the enemy still has another card to play?’

After a moment of contemplation, he immediately voiced his concerns.

"Your judgment is correct."

Graham took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of blood and qi from the intense battle.

"So... I’ll continue to track that damn Undead. As for the last of the Magic Nodes..."

His eyes, burning brightly, turned to Roland.

"I’m leaving it to you. No problem, right?"

"Of course."

After their brief exchange, and confirming that no other Extraordinary Professionals had appeared besides the Witch Demon, Roland parted ways with Graham, leading his partners toward the final point of Magic Power convergence.

Thanks to their seamless coordination, the few Magical Guide Structures they encountered along the way couldn’t slow them down at all.

In just a few moments, the group arrived near a stone house similar in appearance to the one where Holland had fought his intense battle.

"Wait!"

Roland abruptly raised his arm, signaling the group to halt as his brow furrowed in alarm.

He caught a scent in the air.

The fresh scent of blood.

The scent was clearly human.

And yet, they were still a considerable distance from the area where Reggie and his troops were stationed...