Chapter 39: The Battle Begins (Part 1)

*Swish.*

Quero's sword, radiating a fierce light, slashed down toward Baron Wilson's head. Though initially shocked, Wilson quickly regained his composure, gripping his sword with both hands. With a low growl, flames burst forth from his blade, intensifying until a blazing aura surrounded it, radiating a scorching heat.

"Blade of Light!"

"Flaming Slash!"

Their swords clashed in a violent display, the flames and brilliant white light intertwining and sparking ominously.

*Boom.*

Wilson's fiery aura was no match for the power of Quero's radiant light, but the clash forced both men back several steps, resulting in a standoff.

"A third-level Light Swordsman!" Wilson muttered, narrowing his eyes. Through their brief exchange, he understood his opponent's strength—a third-level Light Swordsman, clearly more skilled in elemental control than himself.

"Such strength! A mere second-level Flame Swordsman shouldn't be this powerful!" Quero was also stunned, his once-arrogant expression turning serious. He recognized Wilson's extraordinary strength, despite his apparent rank, powered by the raw physical might within his towering frame.

"Can't handle him alone, Quero?" a voice sneered. "Angus was right—never underestimate a man who survived the 'Slaughterhouse.'"

Another masked man stepped forward, drawing his sword, making his intentions clear.

"Another third-level Light Swordsman!" Wilson took stock of the two adversaries, quickly formulating a strategy.

"Attack!" Quero and Reylo, the two third-level Light Swordsmen, charged together at Wilson. Their battle created a clear space around them, as nobody dared come near the searing light and fire elements scattering from their clash.

Despite the assault by two third-level Light Swordsmen, Wilson held his ground, buoyed by his innate strength. Although only a second-level Flame Swordsman, his exceptional power allowed him to fight on par with elite third-level swordsmen.

The longer the battle went on, the grimmer Quero and Reylo's expressions became. They had expected an easy victory but were finding Wilson difficult to overcome.

"This man's strength is monstrous. How is he so tough?" Frustrated, they cast a glance at Angus, who had been observing from afar.

Angus, the final golden-masked figure, watched Wilson closely. He saw the baron swing his massive sword with immense force, holding his own against two powerful opponents. Neither Quero nor Reylo dared to engage him in a full force clash, lest they be overwhelmed by Wilson's frightening strength.

"It seems even the bishop underestimated him. This small Blackwater City has hidden depths…" Angus murmured, drawing his sword as well.

*Swish.*

An even more intense burst of light than before emanated from Angus's sword. Gripping it with both hands, he advanced toward Wilson, preparing to join the fray.

"Three third-level Light Swordsmen… and over fifty first and second-level Light Swordsmen… This is no ordinary bandit force; these are the church's Guardians!" Merlin observed from a safe distance. Protected by Platt and the knights, he was able to assess the battlefield calmly.

Wilson's strength was beyond Merlin's expectations. Like a god of war, Wilson fought the two powerful opponents with sheer force alone—a feat Merlin found incredible.

When Merlin had barely managed to defeat a single third-level Elemental Swordsman, he had nearly been killed in the process. The sight of Wilson, outnumbered yet holding his own, showed Merlin just how powerful his father truly was.

"Master Merlin, you should return to the castle. We will defend it with our lives!" Platt appeared beside Merlin, his sword drawn and gaze fixed on an approaching band of bandits.

A group of bandits was charging toward the castle, led by two second-level Light Swordsmen. Platt was ready to sacrifice himself to hold them back.

"Come! I survived the 'Slaughterhouse'—what do you think you can do?" Platt's voice held a hint of madness, his sword flickering with small flames. Although not as powerful as Wilson's, his aura showed his fierce determination. As a first-level Flame Swordsman, though, he stood little chance against the enemy forces before him.

"Don't worry, Master Merlin. I, Argus, will protect you," said a young knight near Merlin. The sixteen-year-old Argus had a look of unwavering resolve on his face, and Merlin knew he would not hesitate to risk his life to keep his promise.

"You have the heart of a true knight, Argus!" Merlin said with a smile, seemingly untroubled by the chaos around him. Then, to everyone's surprise, he dismounted and approached Platt.

"Uncle Platt," Merlin said.

"Master Merlin? Why aren't you in the castle? It's too dangerous here…" Platt began, but Merlin shook his head.

"Gather the remaining knights and fall back to defend the castle. As for these bandits…" Merlin's gaze turned cold as he looked at the charging enemies.

*Whoosh.*

Two fireballs, each the size of a fist, materialized in front of Merlin, hanging in the air and radiating a menacing heat.

"I'll handle them!"

Platt stood frozen, Merlin's words echoing in his mind.

With a calm gesture, Merlin extended his hands, and the fireballs hurtled forward, blazing toward the oncoming bandits.