Battle Under the Moonlight Part 9

"Run, Rupert, run! You've already lost!" Mansla's voice had changed completely, the pretense of elegance shattered.

Wendigos had the ability to ensnare minds, their voices subtly driving people to madness and poor decisions.

At this moment, Mansla acquired a similar power.

With his words, a sense of shame welled up in Rupert, compelling him to turn back and confront Mansla.

The more Mansla spoke, the stronger this impulse grew.

"Abandon the goods, cover my retreat!" Rupert shouted to his men.

Rupert's men reacted swiftly. Someone pulled out a sheepskin bag, pouring oil over the goods.

"Master, go first, I'll hold them off!" He struck a flint, standing by the goods, his face pale but resolute.

This retreat plan had been prearranged.

If this mission failed, burning the goods would delay Mansla's forces.

No matter Mansla's success, if the goods burned, he lost.

But Rupert sensed danger, dropping to the ground just as a greatsword spun past him.

The man with the flint was bisected, standing with only half a body.

"For friends!" Sam charged forward, Rupert's earlier joy turning to terror.

"Wake up, Sam!" Rupert shouted, but his cries had no effect.

A noble's power, derived from knightly rites, could only be countered by equal strength; otherwise, those enchanted could not break free.

Sam sneered, ignoring his former master's calls, his massive fist crashing down on Rupert.

"Hold still!" Rupert, sprawled on the ground, activated his emblem again, casting the power of Unyielding Boundary.

Energy surged, Sam's fist growing heavier. From ten meters away, it felt like punching through water. Now, it was like punching through dough.

His fist dented the dough-like barrier, but breaking through was nearly impossible.

"Argh!" Sam roared, retracting his fist. His former strength, once admired by Rupert, now oppressed him.

Sam's fists swung faster, blood spraying, shadows forming in the air. With each roar, Rupert foresaw his face being smashed and twisted.

He wanted to flee but couldn't.

The Unyielding Boundary had limitations—the greatest being the inability to retreat. Any backward movement nullified its effects.

Given the situation, retreating meant death under Sam's fists.

At his peak, Rupert's power might have had alternatives, but he was just a knight.

His ancestor's legacy had already degraded, reducing the power's versatility and effectiveness.

Even without this reduction, the emblem's uses and duration were limited, depending on one's adaptation and the merit's inherent rigidity.

Rupert strained to maintain his power, while his men, weapons raised, rushed to attack Sam, only to be repelled by the other creatures.

"Quick, save the master!" Rupert's men grew frantic.

Few of his men were lifelong retainers, as his family had fallen by his generation.

Most were talents Rupert gathered through various means.

For instance, Matthew, a blacksmith recruited after clashing with gangs.

His followers were a mix of commoners, orphans, and travelers who had come to Roia and were enlisted by Rupert. Some were helped by him, others motivated by his payments.

Rupert had a knack for winning loyalty. Even now, they wouldn't abandon him, fighting desperately to save him.

But without sufficient strength, their conviction was futile.

Worse, Mansla approached.

"I'll give you a dignified end. Rest in peace, Sir Rupert!" Mansla lifted Sam's discarded greatsword. Rupert, too weak to shoot an arrow, couldn't disarm him.

Mansla's words, imbued with Wendigo's charm, penetrated Rupert's mind. As Mansla swung the greatsword, displaying greater power than Sam, Rupert fell into despair.

Giving up resistance, the barrier dissipated. Rupert collapsed, his men's desperate cries filling his ears. Moonlight touched his face, soon blocked by the greatsword.

Rupert closed his eyes, ceasing to think.

At that moment, a loud clash resounded.

Sam's fist collided with Mansla's greatsword.

Mansla paused, perplexed. Though no swordmaster, he knew enough to check Sam's punch trajectory, ensuring no interference.

Why did his sword hit Sam's fist?

The sound jolted Rupert from his resignation. Fist and sword rebounded, moonlight touching Rupert's face again.

In the light, he saw thin strings attached to Sam.

Some force was transmitting through them.

Next, Sam went berserk, attacking Mansla.

With no time to think, Mansla could only parry.

"No, this isn't right!" Mansla struggled against Sam's punches.

"My power persists; the charm is intact. Sam remains mine..."

"Then why does he attack me?" Mansla fumed, feeling his dignity trampled.

"Why, just a wretch, I paid the price, yet you betray me!" Mansla couldn't accept it.

He declared friendship, lowered his dignity to befriend these wretches, expecting their loyalty and sacrifice. Why attack him?

Mansla raged, swinging the greatsword. Despite his superior strength and weapon, Sam pressed the attack.

"For friends!" Sam roared, his punch blocked by a barrier close to Mansla's skin.

Purdore appeared behind Mansla.

Sam's punches continued, the barrier blocking them but sending Mansla flying. Crashing into a tree, Mansla saw a shadow leap from the darkness.

The shadow left no mark under the moonlight, but a blade struck a spot on Sam's neck.

Sam's invincible aura halted, and he fell, dead leaves swirling in the moonlight.

A not-too-tall figure landed, stepping on Sam's fallen body.

An aura solidified, blocking a deflected droplet.

Under the moon, Adam lifted his head slightly, gazing at the two men. Around him, the creatures began to collapse.

The terrifying aura reached its peak, accentuated by the fallen bodies.

"Good evening, gentlemen!"