Chapter 64: The Great Chief (Part 2)

The black torrent was a group of knights clad in heavy armor. Princess Sherris was momentarily taken aback but soon recognized their identity.

"It's Baron Wilson's heavy knights. I didn't expect that even after I refused his offer of allegiance, he would still lead his knights to rescue us. But it's useless; these bandits are extraordinary, and Baron Wilson's heavy knights are certainly no match. Deputy Commander Wayne, prepare to charge in and fight the bandits alongside Baron Wilson!"

Princess Sherris felt a pang of emotion. Old Wilson's action in such a dire moment demonstrated his loyalty to the royal family, though she didn't realize it was gratitude to Prince Frederick that motivated him, not loyalty to the crown. This would be Old Wilson's final act of assistance.

Old Wilson's heavy knights charged down the hill, cutting a bloody path through the bandits. Countless bandits fell under their charge, as only those with remarkable physical strength could withstand it; the others were nothing more than a motley crowd of commoners, easily scattered even by ordinary knights.

Old Wilson himself was engulfed in flames, his massive frame resembling a small giant. With each swing of his sword, fire blazed, and three to five bandits were instantly slain by his hand.

Soon, he reached the spot where Commander Mance was encircled, his gaze fixed on the Great Chief—the bandit with strange markings on his face.

"Where are the third and fourth leaders?"

The Great Chief recognized Old Wilson instantly, realizing he was the minor noble his men had been sent to intercept.

"They're dead," Old Wilson replied coldly, exuding a powerful aura that bore down on the bandit leader—a pressure that only level-four elemental swordsmen could wield. Though Old Wilson was only a level-two fire swordsman, his natural strength pushed him to the peak of a level-three swordsman, enabling him to project an intimidating presence.

"Hmph, I underestimated you. But it's your mistake to come here to die!" The Great Chief's eyes flashed with a fierce glint as he propelled himself backward with a mighty push from his legs.

"Boom."

The ground shook as the Great Chief used the force of his jump to launch himself at Old Wilson like a cannonball.

"Flame Slash!"

Old Wilson roared as the armor on his body creaked under the strain—his muscles swelled, pushing his armor to its limits.

In battle, Old Wilson's frame grew even larger, reaching nearly two meters tall, an intimidating sight that struck fear into his opponents.

This was true innate strength, unlike the Great Chief, who retained an ordinary human frame yet wielded extraordinary power.

The two men clashed with their swords, exchanging dozens of blows in a heartbeat, each collision creating ear-piercing sounds.

"Crack."

Both swords shattered, unable to withstand the terrifying force. They continued fighting barehanded, exchanging ferocious blows.

Old Wilson's fists blazed with fire, giving him the appearance of a fiery deity. The Great Chief, though less imposing, was faster and equally powerful, matching Old Wilson blow for blow.

"Haha, this is exhilarating! More!" Old Wilson laughed as he shouted, thrilled to face an opponent who could match his raw power. Fueled by his fighting spirit, he engaged the Great Chief in an all-out brawl.

Wherever the two fought, everyone—bandits and heavy knights alike—scrambled to get out of their way, as anyone who came close risked life-threatening injuries.

While Old Wilson and the Great Chief were evenly matched, his heavy knights couldn't hold their ground against the bandits who had practiced the mysterious technique.

With four to five hundred bandits of remarkable strength surrounding them, the heavy knights were at risk of complete annihilation if things continued this way.

Once the heavy knights fell, even if Old Wilson held his own against the Great Chief, it would mean little.

Standing by the carriage on the hillside, Merlin observed the battle below with keen interest, especially the Great Chief, whose fight with Old Wilson held his full attention.

"As I suspected, there's no elemental aura; it's purely physical strength… The mysterious relief must be on him."

Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed Old Wilson's flames begin to weaken, diminishing his power.

"In terms of stamina, Father has to rely on his accumulated fire-elemental energy. This frenzied fighting can't last long. But the Great Chief seems to have an inexhaustible supply of strength."

Merlin realized that if this continued, Old Wilson would surely lose.

At this moment, Merlin decided to step in. He'd held back, concerned that the Great Chief might be a level-four or higher elemental swordsman, which would have required more effort to defeat.

But now he could see the Great Chief's strength matched Old Wilson's, comparable to a peak level-three swordsman, making him much easier to handle.

Merlin began his approach.

Descending the hill slowly, Merlin walked straight into the crowd of bandits. Several bandits, upon seeing him, swung their swords at him without hesitation.

"Crack, crack."

Before the swords could strike, the bandits were frozen solid, their bodies encased in ice, still holding their weapons in attack positions, frozen like lifelike statues.

Merlin continued forward, freezing many more bandits into eerie ice sculptures along the way.

The strange sight unnerved the other bandits, who exchanged uncertain glances, no longer daring to confront Merlin.

In the meantime, the Great Chief noticed Merlin. After one last clash with Old Wilson, he swiftly retreated and put some distance between them, eyeing Merlin warily.