For those who wield spells, the word 'ominous' was not merely three simple letters.
It was a prediction born from their senses.
Esther could feel that something was happening in this land.
And it was something related to the world of spells.
A gut feeling told her that it would inevitably affect her as well, so she decided it couldn't be ignored without confirmation.
In short, she needed to verify it immediately. That was why Esther spoke.
"Protect me."
At those words, Andrew, who had been about to charge into the battlefield, turned his head.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Should I call back Enki, who went ahead instead?"
Esther delivered the facts with a polite but lengthy explanation, then closed her eyes.
Her mind was racing.
Andrew paused, hesitating.
Where exactly was he right now?
Because he was with Encrid, he had been accepted as part of their unit.
It was also a tricky situation to command a unit as a Baron of the Gardner army.
After all, his entire force was just five people.
Andrew glanced over the battlefield.
While it wasn't overwhelmingly in their favor, the situation seemed to be flowing according to their side's intent.
Andrew stopped in his tracks. He thought it best to heed the request of the wizard, Esther, for now.
"Form up."
And so, Andrew and the five trainees formed a circle around Esther.
Esther sat in the center. She paid no mind to the dirt ground. There was no time for that.
Her robe touched the ground and spread out.
Soon, Esther entered the world of spells and began searching for the trick prepared by the opposing wizard.
Or rather, there was no need to search.
He wasn't hiding anything, instead, he laid everything bare.
By revealing everything, he sought to elevate his own presence.
A grand presence that weighed heavily on Esther's shoulders.
But she was no ordinary wizard.
She was a witch who wielded the flames of the Dark World.
A witch who fought, struggled, and carved her path through the world.
A seeker of truth, burning it in flames to gain understanding.
She chanted a spell to prove herself and raised her head.
Esther saw through the trick that had been prepared by her enemy, Count Molsen, the wizard.
There was a saying that not all wizards were mad, but that exceptional wizards always nurtured a touch of madness.
Esther agreed with this sentiment.
Her current opponent was a testament to that saying.
'He mixed sorcery and spells.'
Between the flow of mana, the energy of spirits coursed as well. The power of his invocation spread across the area, revealing his intent.
It was darkness.
Count Molsen sat on a black chair that seemed darker than the dim surroundings, cloaked in a mantle made of soot, gripping a jet-black staff, glaring at her.
"Do you think you can stop me?"
His intent transformed into words, delivered with a mocking tone. If you think you can, go ahead and try.
Esther didn't react to his taunt. Instead, she observed, again and again.
'A magic circle.'
The entire battlefield had been turned into a magic circle. And a magic circle requires a material to draw it.
"You're extraordinarily mad."
The moment she realized it, Esther spoke. Count Molsen propped his chin with his staff-free hand and spoke.
"Do you think knowing will change anything?"
He had used the horrors of war, the blood, and the corpses as materials for his magic circle, inscribing spells based on sorcery.
And what would the result be?
Esther half-closed her eyes, predicting what would happen once the spell was completed.
Esther was also a prodigy, one of the greatest in her world. This ability was a testament to that.
Pitch-black darkness would cover the entire battlefield. The world would lose its light and be consumed by the suffocating darkness of his Will.
This was the work of a maniac, attempting to connect his own world of spells with reality.
What particularly disgusted her was this: what does the world of spells mean to a wizard?
It is their most private and secret place, never to be shown or revealed to others. It is a taboo.
Count Molsen ignored this taboo.
'He plans to connect it and unleash his wraiths.'
The darkness that swallowed the light from the magic circle was ultimately an attempt to tear out a piece of his world of spells and manifest it here.
Esther also noticed the black figures lingering behind the chair where Count Molsen sat.
Wraiths. So many that they filled his world of spells.
What would happen if those wraiths were unleashed on the battlefield?
Wraiths could invade a person's mind, turning some into puppets, while others would lose all sense of friend or foe and swing their weapons blindly. Still others would lose their sanity and die.
Most would descend into madness.
This was the reality that would soon unfold.
It was what the Count was aiming for.
Victory in battle? That wasn't necessary.
He only needed blood, corpses, and death.
And with that, he would dominate the battlefield with his wraiths.
It was enough to make Krang explode in fury if he found out.
"Do you think you can stop me?"
The Count asked.
Esther could burn the enemy to ashes with her spells right now. But she couldn't stop what was happening to those fighting right now.
No solution came to mind.
The best she could do here was to pull away the people she needed to protect.
Is that what she should do?
The thought crossed her mind, but she didn't think Encrid would want that.
So, what should she do?
'I'll ask.'
She would tell everything to Encrid. She would ask him.
For those who understood the ways of spells, especially those who knew Esther, this was a surprising choice.
Esther transformed part of her Will into a fluid form and sent it flying toward Encrid, who was at the front of the battlefield.
It was something she could do only because she had been by his side for over a year, their bond growing close.
To send one's Will to another, such a strong connection was necessary.
Fortunately, Esther's Will reached Encrid.
"Ask him."
Esther responded, and the Count blinked.
He must have wondered what she intended to ask.
* * *
A Giant who used his body as a weapon.
That was Benukt's epithet.
Encrid pulled the sword embedded in the Giant's skull after slashing the tendons behind its knees, sending a stream of blood following the blade.
He pressed down on the Giant's shoulder with his right foot and, with a swift pull, withdrew the sword.
The Giant's fighting spirit had been astonishing and terrifying.
But compared to Audin, it was feeble.
Benukt had struck Encrid's side and twisted his ankle to trap him.
But Encrid had tensed his core and withstood the side blow, deflecting the strike to a less vulnerable area.
When his ankle was grabbed, he had pivoted in the direction of the twist, using the momentum to counter his opponent's attempt, making it ineffective.
After that, he had calmly and methodically struck with precision.
He slashed and stabbed repeatedly.
The skill difference was evident, so there was no need to rush. Using the Trapping Sword technique, he cornered his opponent bit by bit.
And after killing Benukt, he looked around.
A soldier, trembling with fear, was charging at him.
He wasn't the kind of man to retreat after witnessing a Giant's death in terror.
And it wasn't just one or two—there were at least dozens.
'Why?'
The question arose in his mind. Their eyes were filled with fear, their legs trembling. Encrid hadn't even used his Intimidation yet. And still, their eyes were brimming with terror, as if they were being driven into battle.
That was exactly the case.
They were sacrificial lambs, sent to become blood and corpses by the Count. They had been sent to die.
To protect those behind him meant that he would have to become a demon to those in front of him.
Encrid understood this.
And yet...
'I don't like it.'
It disturbed him deeply.
Encrid swatted away the tip of a shaking spear with the back of his hand, grabbing the shaft and wrenching it away.
The young soldier, who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, lost his spear and fell forward.
So shocked was he that he didn't even manage to brace himself with his hands and fell face-first to the ground.
"Ah!"
A scream erupted.
Encrid cut through the next soldier's spear with his sword and kicked the one behind him in the jaw.
Thud.
Though the kick was light, it lifted the man's chin, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed.
After knocking down a dozen or so, no one else dared to approach.
Their eyes were filled with a mix of wariness and fear, their pupils revealing their complex emotions.
Encrid disliked all of it.
The blood of the dying.
Their flesh and bones.
The death that flowed, staining the ground.
It was an unease that started as an instinct and solidified into a sense of dread.
'Why?'
This was the battlefield, and by now, the battlefield had become a familiar place.
Encrid knew all too well that to protect those behind him, he had to become a demon to those in front of him.
As he surveyed his surroundings, on alert, a blue mist-like substance approached and touched him from behind.
It was the fluid containing Esther's Will.
She conveyed to Encrid what she had seen, heard, and understood.
It was a strange experience, hearing Esther's voice as if it were whispering directly into his ear.
The words she delivered—the filthy scheme of the Count—were the true source of his discomfort.
While Encrid didn't fully understand what the magic circle was or what exactly the Count was planning, it was clear that whatever that bastard desired, it was something that needed to be stopped.
The fact that the battlefield had become the Count's tool also fueled his anger.
As Encrid turned and moved through the enemy lines, the soldiers parted to let him pass.
Even under the pressure of their Commanders pushing them from behind, they knew there was no point in fighting.
After all, he had just slain the Giant. To them, he was a monster who had killed a beast as terrifying as their own leader, a creature of sheer brutality, now walking toward them.
Though he looked like an ordinary swordsman at first glance, his overwhelming skill made him anything but ordinary.
And so, the path opened.
On the opposite side, Lierbart emerged.
"Even Benukt couldn't stand against you, it seems."
"You sent him knowing that, didn't you?"
"I did."
"You should've stepped forward sooner."
Encrid chided Lierbart, like a teacher scolding a child. He was genuinely angry.
It was a tone that didn't suit the gravity of the situation, clearly meant as provocation.
Lierbart, despite the circumstances, was infuriated by this—his noble status adding fuel to the fire.
Normally, it was his specialty to unsettle others with words.
"Your tongue is truly…"
"Shut up. I have no interest in hearing excuses."
Encrid cut off Lierbart mid-sentence.
"You really are a bastard."
Lierbart spoke without a hint of a smile, while Encrid raised his sword.
It was clear that to move forward, he had to defeat this man.
Meanwhile, Esther, still watching through her fluid form, could sense Encrid's thoughts.
He had no intention of backing down.
His will was like an unquenchable flame, fiercely burning.
He would stop them. He would stop them no matter what—and that Will reached Esther.
Hearing it, she spoke aloud.
"We cannot afford to lose."
If they lost or retreated now, there would be no stopping the Count's plan.
Encrid raised his sword. Gripping Silver with both hands, he stared at his opponent, as if splitting him in half along the blade's edge.
He had spent all his time reflecting on past battles.
While eating, while sleeping, while waking, even while fighting—there was no room for boredom.
In fact, it was exhilarating.
Lierbart was an opponent he had to surpass, and that brought him joy. Facing him would bring the opportunity to move forward.
Moreover, his instincts told him.
'I can win.'
How many times had he been certain of victory?
Especially against such a formidable opponent as this.
Although he had never fought with today's outcome in mind, Encrid believed there would be no repeat.
There will be no next time.
"Envious, aren't you?"
Lierbart raised his sword and shield along with a cryptic remark.
He lifted his shield to cover his mouth, revealing only his eyes.
He was ready for battle.
It seemed like the fight would play out the same way as before.
That's what those who had watched their previous duel expected.
But it wasn't.
Thud!
Suddenly, Encrid sheathed his sword and sprinted forward.
Lierbart, holding his shield, assumed a defensive posture in response to the unexpected move. He pulled his shield closer to his body, even hiding the hand that held his sword.
Encrid stretched both hands forward.
In a flash, he drew a Whistle Dagger, which emitted a sharp sound.
Whiiiistle!
Two streaks of light shot toward Lierbart's exposed eyes.
Clang!
Lierbart quickly raised his shield to block his vision.
Blocking your sight?
Just because his vision was blocked didn't mean he couldn't read his opponent's movements. A Junior-Knight's senses were honed to such an extent.
Lierbart's body spun backward. Meanwhile, Encrid had already circled around to his side and threw a sword.
It was the Tangum Style, a technique he was known for.
The Gladius, spinning like a disc, was flying toward Lierbart's back.
A shield? That would be too slow. Lierbart relied on the durability of the armor covering his body.
He twisted slightly, showing off a skill in martial arts.
It was a technique that deflected strikes with his armor, one that used the body to turn the blow aside. It was a move akin to something Encrid had learned from Audin.
Clang!
The second strike was deflected.
At that moment, Encrid leaped into the air and brought his sword down vertically.
Boom!
Though Lierbart blocked with his shield, the force traveled down his arm, all the way to his forearm.
He felt as though his body had sunk into the ground.
Somehow, Encrid seemed even stronger than before.
Encrid had used the dagger throw to create an opening, restricted Lierbart's movements with his Gladius, and now pressed forward with a Middle Sword Technique, attacking with a spinning vertical slash.
Naturally, he didn't stop there.
It was a Breathless World.
Having gained the upper hand before, Encrid immediately pulled the battle into the realm most favorable to him.
It worked.
Under normal circumstances, Lierbart could fight for an entire day, but after exchanging dozens of blows and focusing on defense, his breathing became uneven.
His opponent's stamina was vastly superior to his own.
He couldn't help but wonder what Encrid had done to attain such a body.
In that brief moment of weakness, a fiery strike slipped through and pierced Lierbart's abdomen.
The thrust targeted the gap in his armor, slicing into his organs.
Lierbart quickly swung his shield, smashing into Encrid.
Since Encrid had overextended himself for the thrust, he couldn't dodge.
Thwack!
The shield struck Encrid, forcing him back a few steps.
Cough!
Lierbart spat blood.
The outcome of the battle had been decided. Encrid looked into his opponent's eyes.
They were black, lifeless, resembling the eyes of a dead fish.
"Hah, truly envious."
Lierbart muttered another cryptic comment.
Encrid was about to raise his sword, thinking it didn't matter.
"How do you think one becomes a Knight?"
Lierbart asked.