Chapter 62: Magic

Brock did not climb the city wall immediately. Instead, he waited until Herall and his tribe had surged upward, then began to ascend the siege ladder with his men. The battle atop the walls had reached a fever pitch, and it was clear that the less numerous defenders were gradually losing ground. Their will was not as resolute as the Hafdans, and their strength fell far short. Without any surprises, the battle was nearing its end, and Brock was looking forward to joyously storming the castle and feasting...

However, just as Brock's thoughts began to drift, a bright red light suddenly flashed on a segment of the wall. The blood-red glow was dazzling and persistent, instantly drawing the attention of everyone on the battlefield. From Brock's angle, he couldn't see who was causing the commotion, but he instinctively felt uncomfortable, as if some evil presence emerged from the void around him and was being drawn towards the red light.

What was that, exactly? Brock frowned deeply.

...

Meanwhile, inside the castle hall.

Roslyn was nearly overwhelmed. Wounded soldiers were continuously brought in, and she used her healing magic over and over again, her mental strength severely depleted, nearly reaching her limit. Saying she was about to faint was not an exaggeration; she truly was on the brink of collapse.

Notably, Roslyn's use of the [Healing Words] did not depend on the blessing of the Goddess Agnes; it was powered by her own strength. This was quite unusual.

Throughout the kingdom, whether it was the priests in the churches or the monks traveling across lands, their healing magic always required specific prayers to Agnes, imploring Her to bestow Her merciful blessing for the recovery of the afflicted. Strictly speaking, priests and fathers weren't actually using magic; they were borrowing power from the deity through prayer.

Faith was not a vague myth or legend; the deities truly responded to their followers, of course, through the clergy as an intermediary. Regardless, believers could genuinely feel the power of the divine, which was a major reason why Agnes was widely worshipped across the kingdom.

Since the power was borrowed from a deity, the priests had a limited number of times they could cast healing spells each day. Besides steadfast faith, believers had to pay offerings to the church as proof of their devotion.

In tough times, some people couldn't afford the hefty devotion fee, so they turned to Roslyn. Back in Dunfries, Roslyn had made a name for herself among the city's lower classes. Many poor believers who couldn't afford the church's expensive treatment fees sought her help, buying health from her at much cheaper prices.

Unlike the priests, Roslyn's healing was not borrowed from the goddess but invoked through her own power. She didn't need to recite any prayers; she simply had to feel with her heart, capturing the mysterious elements hidden in the air, gathering them to create miracles in her hands.

Although her power was noticeably weaker compared to the deities, the same injuries required bed rest for a while even after her treatment, unlike the more advanced healing arts of the priests, which could immediately cure people. But her ability had no limit in usage.

Of course, excessive use of her healing spell could cause dizziness, but in principle, it was unlimited. That's why Roslyn could continuously cast her [Healing Words] to the injured in the castle hall, unlike the priests who would retreat to chant prayers after using up their daily quota.

But at that moment, Roslyn, almost fainting from busyness, felt the already scarce elements in the air rapidly depleting. More accurately, they were congregating and moving in a certain direction.

She widened her eyes and stumbled out of the castle, only to see a red glow appearing on the city wall, with Gwynnis at the heart of the light.

Herall had completely lost his sanity. Wielding his massive axe, he charged forward, his eyes blinded by rage, focused only on cleaving the head of the detested foe before him. Gwynnis, at a distance of three meters, employed his newly acquired "skill", or should it be called "magic"? He sensed something gathering around him, and then, a crimson, eyeball-sized orb appeared at his fingertips. In the next moment, the orb transformed into a streak of crimson lightning, accompanied by a thunderous boom like a bolt from the blue, striking towards the charging Herall.

However, at the last moment, the tip of the lightning failed to maintain its concentrated form. Just before hitting its target, it rapidly dispersed, nearly covering Herall and a large section of the wall. Herall, directly hit, felt as though his body was struck by lightning, with intense pain flooding every part of him, engulfing him completely.

Severely injured and paralyzed, Herall's body swayed and fell through the gap of the hacked barricades into the courtyard, landing with a dull thud, his fate unknown.

On the other side, Gwynnis felt completely drained by that strike, a severe sense of dizziness almost rendering him unable to stand. But he mustered his strength, first throwing the fallen giant axe off the wall, then jumping down himself.

Landing from a height of five meters, Gwynnis felt as if his legs were nearly broken. But without daring to delay, he struggled over to Herall, grabbed the giant axe, lifted it above his head with both hands, and swung down with all his might.

Just recovering from the dizziness, Herall opened his eyes only to see the falling axe as his last sight. The next moment, he was gone from this world.

Having dealt with the biggest threat, Gwynnis tried to support his body with the giant axe. He felt the floor shake, saw white spots before his eyes, and heard a buzzing in his ears. He was almost at his limit.

Suddenly, a wave of warmth came from behind his head, and his spirit rapidly recovered. Gwynnis turned around to see a haggard-looking Roslyn with her hands on the back of his head, emitting a soft glow.

"I... I hurt my foot, not my head..." Gwynnis managed a wry smile.

"Your leg isn't broken; you're just too tired," Roslyn retorted with a roll of her eyes.

As soon as she spoke, she was forcefully pushed away by Gwynnis, who raised the giant axe and split an ambushing Hafdan in two.

Gwynnis pulled Roslyn, who had fallen to the ground, to her feet and pushed her towards the castle.

"Get inside."

Watching Roslyn stumble back into the castle, Gwynnis couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the scene that unfolded next. Hundreds of conscripted soldiers were crying and running around the courtyard, chased by a dozen Hafdans who had jumped down from the barricades. Those who fell behind were immediately caught up with and killed.

Gwynnis was so furious he nearly bit his teeth to pieces.

"Damn you all, a bunch of useless fools!!!"

Just as he was about to intervene, he saw several astute Hafdans rushing towards the city gates. They intended to open the gates, allowing all the Hafdans outside to storm in.