Battle and Bloodshed

The explosion startled Seraphina, while Ansel sighed helplessly, "Can't even wait a day, am I that terrifying?"

"Seraphina."

He turned to the silver-haired girl staring intently at the explosion, "Answer me, why did the Baron of Iceberg, a mere mortal, die before I arrived, yet the Baron of Howling Wind still lives?"

Still shocked by the explosion, Seraphina took a moment to comprehend before tentatively replying, "Because... mortals are more susceptible to death?"

"It's because extraordinary beings aren't as easily killed."

"Is there a difference?" Seraphina looked exasperated.

"Of course." Ansel looked up at the thick smoke billowing from the castle, "You need to understand one thing: only those who reach the third stage of transcendence truly enter the realm called 'extraordinary.'"

"If he wanted me to believe this was a genuine assassination attempt, the best choice wouldn't be to stage a play, but to actually die at the hands of the assassin after a desperate struggle."

"Watch closely, Seraphina," Ansel said softly, leaning on his scepter.

"This isn't a childish battle like those at the academy; it's a true life-and-death struggle between extraordinary beings."

"Remember the details; you'll thank me later."

The next moment, an enraged howl dispersed the smoke caused by the explosion.

Seraphina saw, high above, a bare-chested man, blood streaming from his body, swinging his warhammer directly at a lightly armored assassin.

She saw the assassin's body shatter, the raging power within the warhammer tearing muscles and bones to pieces. But as the assassin was pulverized by the Baron of Howling Wind, the blood splattering from the shattered body suddenly solidified, connecting flesh and bone to form a crimson, sinister net that tightly bound the Baron!

Bound by the blood net, the Baron of Howling Wind struggled to respond, seemingly trapped in a deadly situation. Seraphina, with her keen vision, could see the orange flames through the blasted opening in the safe house... it seemed like a fireball was erupting!

"Hey, he's done for."

Seraphina couldn't help but mock Ansel, knowing she'd be punished later anyway, so she might as well vent her frustration now, "These are the details you wanted me to see?"

"...Seraphina, what exactly did you learn at the Frost Tower?"

Ansel rubbed his temples, "In your eyes, do warriors who rely on their physical bodies have nothing else to rely on?"

"After all, any serious warrior should learn techniques like instant magic immunity, right?"

The raging fireball slammed into the Baron of Howling Wind like a cannonball!

"It seems he thought I wouldn't be reassured if he was too far away, so according to the script, the landing point of the Baron after being blasted away..."

Ansel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile, not even bothering to watch the trajectory of the Baron of Howling Wind.

"...should be somewhere near us."

Seraphina, looking up, gaped as the smoke-covered Baron of Howling Wind "whooshed" down about ten meters away from them. The scattered sparks in the air ignited several patches of the lawn.

(What?! You guys… all seen through by that pervert, just like fools!)

"After all, he needed me to witness his valiant death. If he was too far away, what if I became suspicious?"

"Isn't he afraid the assassin would be killed by you with a single shot?" Seraphina's mind was sharp now, "If the assassin was killed by you, his performance would be meaningless."

"That's why, Seraphina, that's why I brought you along this time."

Ansel sighed, "The Frost Tower should have been a great opportunity for you to broaden your horizons, but you didn't cherish it, so I have to take it one step at a time."

"The battles in the extraordinary world aren't what you're used to; no matter the stage or method, in the end, it's not as simple as just brawling..."

Gleipnir transformed into a grotesque hand cannon, and the handsome young noble, while lecturing the girl beside him, casually raised his hand and fired into the air without looking.

As the roar sounded, Seraphina saw a burst of flame inexplicably erupt about ten meters above the Baron of Howling Wind.

"...it's not that simple."

He continued to move the hand cannon, firing another shot at the castle wall behind them without looking back.

Seraphina shrank her neck and turned to look, but apart from the hole blasted in the wall, she saw nothing.

"Escaped?" Ansel raised an eyebrow, "Teleportation beacon, huh? Not so easy after all. Well, they shouldn't re-enter the fray anytime soon."

"Just now, that was—"

"A sniper, is that strange?" The young Lord Hydral waved his vicious weapon, "Although there's only one Gleipnir in this world, there isn't just one firearm."

"Sharpness, locking, acceleration, poisoning, bleeding, and even more dangerous effects... as long as the enchantment on the bullet is strong enough, theoretically, even an emperor could be killed with a single shot."

Ansel laughed at his own words, "Of course, that's just a theory."

Seraphina fell silent, even somewhat bewildered. 

Just as Ansel had said, she could not comprehend… or accept the events unfolding before her. 

In the Frost Tower, all the battles she had experienced were confined to a small arena. 

Whether they were sorcerers or warriors, once she closed in, none could escape her relentless onslaught.

But now? Amidst the heavens and earth, she could not sense any murderous intent or hostility. She was unaware of the methods employed by her enemies, and she did not even know their whereabouts. 

If she were to replace the Baron of Howling Wind, what could she do? Await death? Stand foolishly in place, only to be shot dead by a single bullet?

Why could that scoundrel Hydral achieve this? Why did everything happening now proceed according to his words? Was he stronger than her? Why did she feel like nothing compared to him? 

In her daze, Seraphina heard that detestable nobleman say, "Don't daydream, Seraphina. The assassination attempt on the Baron of Howling Wind is not over yet."

Regaining her senses, Seraphina saw the gap in the safe house above, a robed sorcerer waving a staff, intricate circular patterns shining before the Baron of Howling Wind, and a heavily armored warrior wielding a sword and shield emerging slowly. 

The battered Baron of Howling Wind coughed up blood continuously, and this time, Seraphina finally noticed… the eerie writhing of the shadow beneath his feet, as if something was about to break through from within, like rising to the surface of the water.

"How many times must this ridiculous trick be used?!" 

The Baron roared, swinging his fist backward. The assassin leaping from the shadows was shattered by a single punch, dissipating into nothingness and vanishing.

Three against one. 

A sorcerer ready to provide support from afar, an assassin hidden in the shadows, and a heavily armored warrior. If not for Ansel's intervention… there would have been an additional sniper ready to blow his head off at any moment. 

He's doomed—Seraphina thought.

"Your expression seems to say that the Baron of Howling Wind is doomed," Ansel said, standing beside Seraphina and tilting his head to observe her countenance. 

"..." The girl remained silent, the pressure leaving her at a loss for words.

"But you should remember what I told him: no one can take his life from my hands." 

"That is an established fact, Seraphina."

Under Seraphina's increasingly vacant gaze, Ansel removed his wide wolf fur cloak and casually tossed it to the ground. His upper body, clad only in a black vest and white shirt, was slender and well-built. His slightly broad shoulders made him appear far from frail, and Seraphina could even see the shirt sleeves stretched taut due to his bulging muscles. 

Amidst the mechanical praises, Gleipnir transformed into a cold blade whip.

"Prepare for your second lesson, my dear Seraphina." 

The young Hydral loosened his collar, his radiant golden hair swaying freely in the cold wind, blazing like the sun.

"I will teach you the essence and soul of combat." 

He declared, his steps as elegant as if he were approaching the center of a dance floor.