Chapter 54: Decapitate This Noble Head

After Asa threw his knife and retreated, he screamed in agony, instinctively using all his strength to clutch his head. It felt as though two knives and three hammers were stabbing, stabbing, striking, and pounding inside his skull. He had to use both hands to ensure his head wouldn't explode.

Bishop Aescher, on the other hand, opened his mouth, and a large mouthful of blood sprayed out in a torrent.

The amount of blood was so great and so urgent that it couldn't just be described as a single mouthful. It was more akin to using a bowl, a large beer mug, or even a basin to hold it. This wasn't like an old man coughing up blood after being stabbed—it was as if a large, muscular man had just drunk a bellyful of blood and then had his stomach struck, vomiting it all out. His beard and pristine white bishop's robes were immediately drenched in deep red, and his face turned ghostly white.

His lungs had been pierced by the blade, and mind magic was never suitable for direct combat. He had forced the magical power that controlled the mind to act as an offensive force, but this desperate attempt had taken everything he had. If it weren't for his profound mastery of magic, especially mind magic, he would have already been done in. The backlash from his magic was now threatening his life.

However, this wasn't the main reason he had sprayed so much blood. The majority of this blood had been forced out of his own body.

At his level, a high-ranking light mage could almost be distinguished from ordinary mages. Even though their physical bodies remained weak and fragile, their resilience and resistance to damage could surpass even the strongest of warriors. As long as the injury wasn't instantly fatal, their immense life force could suppress it with vast amounts of white magic, then slowly heal themselves.

Although the death magic attached to the blade had a vampiric effect potent enough to harm even the strongest of behemoths, for a top-tier white magic mage like Aescher, it posed no immediate threat. He could suppress the death magic with his white magic, and with the help of a priest, he could even extract the blade.

Unfortunately, the current situation didn't allow him to slowly heal. Just a moment after Asa, another slender figure entered the room. This figure didn't bring a sword light as grand or as menacing as Asa's, but the sharp and deadly blade moved silently like a needle hidden in the storm. The blue glow was the label of death.

Aescher's mouthful of blood was immediately sprayed toward this intruder, turning into a cloud of blood mist that engulfed the figure in front of him.

The person was, of course, Jessica, who had been hiding with Asa outside. She had received Asa's signal and was supposed to break the window with him. Had she done so, even with Aescher's protective light shield, the red-robed bishop would have died instantly.

But to Asa's surprise, the killing intent and pressure he had unleashed when he broke the window not only shattered it but also momentarily blocked Jessica, forcing her to hesitate. This delay caused the timing of their actions to be off.

Had it been a direct confrontation, Aescher would have been a formidable opponent. Therefore, Asa had unleashed all his killing intent and power in one burst. But he had forgotten that the bishop's strength lay in his magic, and in terms of physical ability, he was just an elderly man. Speed was all that was needed to defeat him. The overwhelming pressure had worked against Asa's intentions.

Jessica, who was a little behind, faced the large spray of blood from Aescher, but instead of hesitating, she only pushed forward with greater speed and force. She knew this was probably the best—perhaps the only—chance. Although the temple knights and guards had left, they couldn't be far, and despite the loud storm and lightning, they would undoubtedly hear the sounds of the shattered window and Asa's screams. Therefore, Jessica didn't hesitate and pushed forward with even greater speed and ferocity. Even if the blood mist contained a deadly curse, she would drive her short sword into the red-robed bishop's throat.

As she charged through the blood mist with no resistance, Jessica was momentarily surprised. The blood was purely a spray—it didn't seem to have any magical defensive properties. But before she could react further, she heard Aescher's hoarse and pained voice: "Freeze."

Jessica's body, which had been speeding forward like an arrow, suddenly stopped, and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Aescher's legs buckled, and he almost collapsed to the ground. Even though his body was in better condition than most elderly people, expelling a quarter of his blood all at once was still a tremendous strain. But it was the only way he could briefly counter the suction of the blade and then use some of his magical power to cast the spell.

Despite nearly draining his life to cast this spell, Aescher felt a sense of relief on his pale face. Talice and the guards would definitely hear the commotion here. They would reach him in under a minute.

But it was only these few seconds that he had bought with his life. The method he used to resist the deadly vampiric effect of the weapon—forcing blood out of his body—wasn't found in any magical texts. It was a technique he had devised himself, based on his profound understanding of both white and necromantic magic, and his ability to make quick decisions in moments of life and death.

While the assassination had failed due to the assassin's minor error, it had to be acknowledged that the real reason was Aescher's overwhelming strength.

At this moment, Asa was already rolling on the floor, screaming in agony. As he writhed, white magical light constantly appeared from his hands—the glow of purification magic. Although he couldn't study advanced magic due to his meditation practices, his basic white magic, especially purification and healing, was just as powerful as any priest's. However, despite his attempts to use purification magic on the spreading pain, it had no effect.

Aescher was stunned that this man could still use magic. At such a close distance, with no defenses, and being struck by his full-strength mind attack, even Lancelote wouldn't have remained conscious.

But Asa, even though he could use magic, still didn't cause Aescher to panic. This mind attack was the culmination of his entire knowledge of mind magic, and its effects were completely different from other types of magic. White magic's purification was almost useless against it. Even if the Pope himself were here, it wouldn't be easy to undo the effects.

The most critical factor was that these magical forces, though already fully directed at Asa's body, still had a subtle connection to Aescher's own consciousness. Aescher began to chant an incantation, his gaze fixed on Asa, who was now writhing on the ground like a fish on a hot iron.

Asa, however, didn't know any of this. All he knew was that he was completely losing his mind.

Every nerve and sensation capable of feeling pain, itchiness, discomfort, or nausea was in overdrive, while hallucinations endlessly emerged and intertwined in his mind. The illusions and pain fed into one another, occupying nearly all of his consciousness. Every thought and perception felt like a swarm of scalded rats, frantically scurrying about in chaos. He felt as though he was breathing with his stomach, hearing with his nose, and seeing with his ears—and he could almost believe he was about to bite his throat with his own eyes, swallow it down into his thumb, and then have it digested through his bones, only to explode as a lump of flesh from the top of his head...

Yet, the very fact that he could still feel that he was losing his mind meant that he hadn't completely gone insane. A tiny core of clarity remained at the center of his thoughts, still striving to rally whatever strength his body could muster to dispel the mental magic that besieged him.

After the fourth attempt at purification magic failed, strange murmurs echoed in his ears. His already chaotic mind immediately spiraled even further out of control. The sliver of clarity was on the verge of being drowned by the madness. He could even predict his first reaction after losing his sanity: he would bite off his own hand, then turn and tear apart Jessica, Yabin, and the crazed girl lying motionless on the ground, desecrate, shred, and devour them...

Within the sea of his own consciousness, he could see himself sinking into a blood-red swamp of frenzied desire, sinking deeper and deeper... The ground above became the sky below, everything he could see or feel twisted into a muddled mass of flesh and blood, swirling in endless distortion… slaughter, violence, death, flesh, entrails, lust… blood, death, lust, entrails, violence, flesh…

Just as he was about to sink entirely, he summoned all his strength and found a solid foothold. Through sheer force of will and the technique of dark meditation, he expanded that faint point of clarity to encompass his entire consciousness. Though he still couldn't completely dispel the mind magic entwined with the Bishop's will, he managed to break free from the surrounding illusions and regain control of his senses.

With a sudden roar, Asa's entire body glowed—not just his hands, but his whole being. The white light no longer shimmered with the crystalline haziness of ordinary magic but radiated a stronger, more powerful brilliance.

As his body trembled violently with the roar, Asa finally released his hands from his head. He leapt to his feet and glared at Aescher with blood-red eyes. Blood streamed not just from his eyes but also from his nose, mouth, and ears, as if he were a fresh corpse struck down with a fatal blow to the back of the head. Yet, he still stood, a stark contrast to his horrifying appearance.

Aescher's face showed surprise. He could sense that the magic he had implanted in Asa's body was still there, but it was now trapped and could no longer wreak havoc in his opponent's consciousness.

Asa turned his gaze to the Bishop. His adversary was leaning weakly against the wall, pale as a sheet, his body streaked with blood. His eyes were dim and lifeless, a stark contrast to the imposing figure he had been. This frail, dying old man had pushed him to the brink of madness, reducing him to something less than a dog. Enraged, Asa lunged forward and threw a full-force punch.

With a crunch, the sound of bones shattering echoed like beans being crushed in a sack. Asa felt his left arm's muscles and bones disintegrate into a mangled mess. The pain was excruciating, yet his shock outweighed it—he couldn't comprehend why his punch, meant to pulverize the Bishop's skull, had landed on his own left arm instead. If he hadn't instinctively held back some of his fighting energy, he might have severed his own arm entirely.

The sound of footsteps and shouts from Talice and the guards grew closer. A chill ran through Asa's heart.

This was the last chance to escape. But it was also the last chance to kill. Should he run, or should he fight?

The Bishop, still leaning against the wall, looked on with faint amusement. His face, pale as paper, bore a mocking smile. He raised a trembling finger and pointed at Asa from afar. Though his gray eyes were dim from blood loss and exhaustion, they gleamed with the catlike glee of a predator toying with its prey.

Seeing the Bishop's gaze, an inexplicable fury erupted in Asa's chest. Roaring with anger, he struck again—this time, the blow landed on his own chest. Two crisp cracks echoed as his ribs shattered, and the force sent him flying backward, crashing into Yabin, who was still half-kneeling on the ground. The two tumbled together in a heap.

Coughing up blood, Asa stared at his fist in disbelief. His shock wasn't just at his body's betrayal but at the realization that this blow had been entirely self-inflicted. In the moment of his attack, his consciousness had inexplicably turned on itself. The intent to kill the Bishop had suddenly transformed into a desire to harm himself, so much so that he had felt a perverse satisfaction, as if fulfilling a long-standing wish.

"I still have most of my mind magic embedded in your consciousness," Aescher said, coughing weakly. "Did you think you could suppress it with just a bit of fighting energy? Even if I can't drive you completely insane, I can still distort your sense of intent."

The footsteps on the stairs were almost upon them. Among them was the unmistakable sound of steel-toed boots—Talice was nearly there.

"You've surprised me," the Bishop continued. "The Dark Meditation technique let you retain some control under my mental assault. But it's too late now. Mind magic can't be dispelled."

The sound of chaotic footsteps echoed up the staircase—the guards had arrived. Among them, the closest and most distinct was the clanking of the Goddess Temple Knight's steel boots striking the marble floor.

"Who would've thought that True Meditation could allow you to cast magic even under the effects of my Mind Shock? But it's too late now—even magic won't save you. Mind magic cannot be dispelled." Though Aescher's voice remained weak, his face, smeared with blood, still exuded a solemn, commanding presence. Even in his exhaustion, he was still imposing—and a little sinister. "Don't worry. I won't hand you over to Magnus. I'll find a chance to bring you back to Dehya Valley. I'm sure there's someone there who would be very interested in dissecting you alive."

The footsteps reached the floor they were on, and now Aescher was the only one still standing in the room. Undoubtedly, he was the final victor. The Bishop smiled, lowering his outstretched finger with confidence. He was certain that Asa no longer had the strength to rise. Even if his opponent managed to muster any sort of attack, Aescher could seize control in an instant.

He glanced at Asa, who remained in a half-kneeling position on the ground, his chest pierced by a dagger. Though battered, Aescher had ultimately won. His expression and demeanor returned to one of solemn authority, a gaze that looked down on all below him. "Almost forgot about this little ant. You've overheard things you shouldn't have, but don't worry—I won't let you speak. I'll tell Talice you were part of the group sent to assassinate me. Given the circumstances, she'll have no choice but to believe it..."

Another earth-shaking thunderclap interrupted Aescher mid-sentence. His words abruptly stopped, and the face that had just regained its dignity froze in an instant, breaking apart. But it wasn't the thunder that unnerved him—it was the sight of Asa, lying on the ground, reaching out to touch Yabin beside him. A flash of Purification magic lit up the room. The next moment, the previously lifeless Yabin leapt to his feet, his eyes gleaming brighter, sharper, and fiercer than the lightning outside.

Talice' steel boots were now just meters from the door, a distance she could cross in two or three strides. Yet for Aescher, that brief span was the difference between heaven and hell. The moment he saw Yabin rise, the Bishop's heart plunged from the heights of victory into the abyss of despair.

For an aging magician with sluggish reflexes, to hold his ground under these stormy, isolated conditions against two skilled assassins—one of whom was fatally injured at the start—was nothing short of a miracle. Aescher had proven himself worthy of his reputation, once able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the current Pope. Decades of battle experience had honed his instincts and decisiveness in the face of danger. While others might surpass him in raw magical talent, few could match his combat awareness. Victory had been within his grasp.

But almost winning is not the same as winning. It was precisely because the victory seemed inevitable that Aescher let down his guard, forgetting the Bishop rule of combat: as long as your enemy still lives, the fight is not over.

Seeing the young man who had just sprung to his feet, with eyes that now glowed with the ferocity of a beast, Aescher felt his heart sink. He would have given anything to take back that one moment of carelessness. He could have easily kept Asa immobilized on the ground, ensuring he couldn't act. But now, it was too late.

He understood the rage and killing intent brimming in this young man, who had been forced to lie helpless on the ground, listening to his own fate being dictated. Perhaps that fury was even more dangerous than the madness inflicted by a Mind Spell. Worst of all, Aescher could no longer cast any magic. All his mental energy was tied up in suppressing Asa, while his white magic was locked in containing the effects of the bloodthirsty dagger in his chest. Attempting any new spell would undoubtedly drain him dry, leaving him a lifeless husk. His injuries also left him incapable of dodging or defending himself physically.

Even so, he had to try. Aescher still trusted his own ability to read people. He could see that this young man was intelligent. And intelligence meant being able to control one's emotions, to weigh risks and benefits. Immediately, Aescher began to speak: "I'll heal your sister. You can come with me—"

He didn't need Yabin to fully agree. All he needed was to delay, to stall for just a few moments longer. He could already hear Talice' footsteps just outside the door.

The sturdy wooden door shattered under the slash of a sword, and the Goddess Temple Knight finally appeared in the Bishop's line of sight. The face that Aescher usually found slightly dull and naïve now seemed strikingly radiant and reassuring. But at that very moment, Aescher felt a chilling sensation on his neck, and then the world turned upside down.

He had been right—the young man was indeed clever. And a clever person would never negotiate with a tiger. Especially when no tiger could ever compare to a necromancer hiding within the Church.

A clever person would also recognize this as the best, and last, opportunity to act. And they would know that to kill a white mage like Aescher, one had to be thorough and leave no room for chance.

When Talice burst into the room, she saw Yabin slicing off the Bishop's head in one clean motion. The once-noble and revered head of the man who had wielded immense power across Alrasia fell to the ground, trailing blood. On his face, a mix of indignation, fury, and despair lingered for a moment before freezing into a permanent, grotesque mask.