Chapter 50: The Battle of the Spellcasters! (Part I)

Old Wilson's gaze fixed on Augdin.

Augdin looked up, feeling the violent energy emanating from Old Wilson. He cast a glance at the defeated Baron Wengrit on the floor, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Wilson, I'm no match for you."

Augdin knew well that if Old Wilson could severely injure the defensive expert Wengrit with a single strike, he stood no chance. The years had seen him fall far behind Wilson.

Just then, footsteps echoed from outside as a few knights hurried in—they were Old Wilson's men, while the rest of his heavily armored knights continued battling the city guard outside.

One knight approached Old Wilson and whispered, "Baron, more city guard knights are gathering. We must leave quickly."

Old Wilson knew the City Lord's residence was no place to linger. But before leaving, he wouldn't let Augdin off so easily.

"Augdin, you conspired with the church and plotted to kill me! I'll give you a chance: pick up your sword, fight me honorably, and if you defeat me, I'll spare your life!"

Old Wilson's voice was firm. He and Augdin had long been recognized as Blackwater City's strongest, yet they had never fought. Still, Old Wilson held complete confidence in his strength.

Augdin's gaze hardened as he spoke in a low voice, "Wilson, if you don't leave now, you may never get the chance!"

"Haha, Augdin, who can stop me now? You? Or your city guards?"

Old Wilson's presence grew, pressing down on Augdin. Flames flickered on his greatsword, their heat scorching the air.

"Pick up your sword, Augdin!"

With his towering frame, Old Wilson cast a shadow over Augdin, his sword swinging down with a powerful, flame-laden slash.

The violent flames clashed against the air, producing a fierce, sizzling sound.

Augdin's face turned pale; he had no choice but to raise his own sword. Flames surged from his blade as well, marking him as a fellow fire swordsman.

"Clang!"

The two men, once hailed as Blackwater City's finest, clashed in an explosion of flames that scattered wildly.

Augdin was forced back several steps, his sword now covered in cracks, barely able to withstand another blow.

Old Wilson stood firm, victory already decided.

"Augdin, you're too weak… Once, you were so full of spirit. But you've sacrificed your training for the position of City Lord. You've truly disappointed me."

Old Wilson shook his head. The years had seen him grow much stronger, while Augdin had stagnated.

"Die!"

Old Wilson raised his sword high, the flames on its edge blazing even brighter, radiating an intense heat that made the nearby knights flinch.

This strike would be unstoppable for Augdin!

The massive sword came down swiftly, its imposing energy crushing Augdin. The once proud City Lord could no longer even lift his sword, simply closing his eyes and awaiting death.

"Bang."

There was a muffled sound, and Old Wilson's expression shifted slightly. His sword had not struck Augdin; instead, a blinding white light shielded him.

This mere white light had forced Old Wilson back a few steps, his heavy black armor creaking under the strain of the backlash.

"Who?"

Old Wilson's gaze sharpened as he looked ahead. A middle-aged man in a spotless white robe with a silver cross emblem on his chest now stood behind Augdin.

"Mage Jason!"

Augdin's face lit up with relief. In his desperation, he had almost forgotten that Mage Jason from the church was here.

He knew little about Jason, only that he possessed extraordinary powers capable of defeating elemental swordsmen with ease. Even a heretic who had terrorized Blackwater had been no match for him.

Seeing Jason, Augdin felt as if he had grasped a lifeline.

"A mage from the Inquisition?" Old Wilson's tone grew grave. The silver cross on Jason's robe was all too familiar—he'd seen it many times in the "slaughterhouse." It marked him as one of the mysterious mages from the Holy Church's Inquisition.

Church mages were powerful enough to rival the spellcasters of the Black Moon Kingdom. That white light from earlier must have been Mage Jason's spell.

"Baron Wilson, as a survivor of the 'slaughterhouse,' you should understand the might of our church. Lay down your weapon. If you have a devout heart and embrace the Bright God, you will remain a child of God."

Jason's expression was calm, his presence exuding a peaceful aura, inviting trust and serenity.

"God would never condone such atrocities!"

Old Wilson raised his sword again, his energy surging, the flames around him blazing even more fiercely. He had reached the peak of a Level-Two Fire Swordsman, close to breaking through to Level Three.

Jason shook his head slightly, his tone indifferent. "Wilson, your soul is lost. To oppose God is to condemn your soul to eternal unrest."

With that, Jason raised a pale hand, emitting a radiant white glow as he began chanting softly.

"Whoosh, whoosh."

A series of white orbs flew toward Old Wilson at incredible speed, each impact striking his black armor with tremendous force. The armor, renowned for its durability, creaked with each hit.

It was clear that the armor was nearing its breaking point under the barrage of Jason's spell. Once broken, not even Old Wilson's formidable physique could withstand Jason's powerful magic.

In just a few moments, the once-dominant Old Wilson found himself overwhelmed by Jason's arrival, his situation growing perilous.