On the fifteenth day of the trial, ten enslaved monsters from different worlds were released into the test grounds.
Each of these monsters possessed power equal to a High Apprentice. For most Mage apprentices, they were insurmountable mountains. These monsters slaughtered every Mage apprentice they encountered, not only for the promised freedom from their captors but also to avenge the deep blood feud between their races and the Mages.
"Edwyn, have you locked onto him?"
Edwyn frowned. In Moony's vision, the four-armed beast was constantly on the move.
It was hunting down hidden Mage apprentices, then tearing and devouring them.
"Head north for a kilometer. That thing's been held up."
Edwyn gave the signal and quickly flew low through the air using the Levitation Spell, with Elia following close behind.
A kilometer away, Griffith and Kevan were struggling to hold back Kraznys.
"Kevan, healing, now!"
Griffith held a greatsword alight with holy brilliance, like a paladin from legend. Behind him stood Kevan, cloaked in deathly energy, with several undead minions supporting him.
"Got it."
Kevan's pale face was slick with sweat. He consumed mana from Mana Stones one after another, using it to support Griffith with healing spells.
In ancient times, the Necromancy School had another name: the School of Life and Death. It originally studied both life and death magic. But after the Mage Wars, death magic became dominant, and the school came to be known solely for necromancy.
Still, the school's healing arts persisted, magic to save, not just to kill. Basic texts on life-death energy conversion could be found even in the academy's public library.
Thanks to Kevan's magic, Griffith barely held his ground against Kraznys's brutal assault.
"Battle! Glory!" Kraznys roared, his fanatic rage making Griffith shiver.
Griffith, a Soul Magic apprentice, could clearly sense Kraznys's desperate yearning for death.
Blades clashed endlessly, and Griffith's injuries grew worse by the second.
Kevan's healing could no longer keep up. Griffith's death was only a matter of time.
Boom! A flaming raven shot from the distance and exploded against Kraznys's back, blasting him away.
Griffith took the opportunity to flee without hesitation. There was no thought of teaming up for a kill. No way, these two new arrivals were both monstrous, their presence marked by powerful apprentice sigils. Sticking around would be suicide.
Edwyn gestured silently to Kevan, who understood instantly and bolted after Griffith.
He was too weak to be anything but dead weight here.
Kraznys staggered to his feet, his wounds visibly healing at an astonishing rate.
"You… you strong ones… are you criminals too?" Kraznys shouted at Edwyn.
The black-scaled figure before him, tall and muscular like himself, reminded him of the war that had shattered his homeland. Back then, many warriors had been torn apart by creatures just like Edwyn, and his own chieftain had fallen to one.
"What is this monster called?" Edwyn muttered.
He reached into his magic pouch and pulled out a magitech pistol.
He and Kraznys were seven steps apart. Beyond seven steps, guns were fast. Within seven steps, they were fast and accurate!
Ping! Kraznys reflexively raised his blade. The bullet struck the flat of it and ricocheted away.
"Instinctive reflexes."
Edwyn quickly analyzed. As a bloodline alchemy student, he understood physical combat. His mentor, Jorod, had written that physically evolved natives often developed powerful combat instincts, something like a battle-hardened sixth sense. It wasn't fully understood, but it seemed to be a conditioned reflex from constant fighting. Elites from pampered noble lines typically didn't have it.
Kraznys's hackles rose as he realized the danger. His fur bristled like a porcupine.
"Ambushes are not the way of warriors!"
Before he could finish his sentence, Elia's elemental spell struck again.
Boom!
Kraznys cleaved the fire raven in half, but the surge of fire engulfed him. When the flames cleared, he stood unharmed, protected by a blood-forged armor coating his body.
With a furious roar, he charged at Elia, like a demon from the deepest hell.
But in his path, a dark figure stepped forward.
"Your opponent is me," Edwyn said calmly.
Every team needs a tank. Unless your side can instantly overwhelm the enemy, a solid frontline is essential.
Per their plan, Edwyn was the tank when hunting monsters.
The clash of blade and steel echoed loudly. Behind Edwyn, Elia coolly drew mana from her stones, preparing her next spell.
Kraznys's blade hit with terrifying force, but Edwyn's strength was no less formidable. While Kraznys had the edge in physical stats, Edwyn had tools.
Suddenly, Edwyn's arms bulged, his muscles swelling, and he locked Kraznys's blade in place with his own.
This was a technique known as Release. The idea was simple: humans possess hidden strength that only emerges in extreme situations. With training, one could harness it deliberately.
Kraznys was stunned. He could tell Edwyn was weaker physically, yet still parried his blows.
"He has warrior heritage!" Kraznys judged, using his prairie instincts.
In his homeland, warriors passed down techniques, ancestral combat wisdom. He had assumed Mages were all shamans of nature. He hadn't expected one to be a warrior too.
Edwyn had no idea what the beast was mumbling. But as they clashed, he was forced to grit his teeth. Though he had blocked the main strikes, Kraznys's lower arms had hammered his gut, hard. His organs had taken a serious beating.
If it weren't for his dual-headed troll blood, he'd be dead already.
"As a warrior, I will honor you with a warrior's rite."
Kraznys nodded solemnly. Then blood mist erupted from his body, and an overwhelming aura surged forth.
Secret Technique: Berserk.
Edwyn took a defensive stance. Kraznys vanished in a blur, his massive blade descending toward Edwyn's head.
Edwyn blocked it, but the blow numbed his arms. He nearly dropped his sword.
Another strike followed. Then another.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Edwyn felt like he was back at the entrance trial, being battered into retreat. Without his bloodline's rapid healing, he'd be in pieces already.
"Edwyn!" Elia shouted.
A giant, terrifying fireball shot toward Kraznys. Elia's spell was ready.
But Edwyn didn't dodge. He charged in, grappling Kraznys, holding him in place.
"Are you mad?" Kraznys shouted.
But then he saw Edwyn's confident grin. And he understood.
Tactics.
Kraznys grinned wildly, and fought with reckless joy.
Tactics are part of war. The Ancestors honor clever warriors.
BOOM!
The explosion's thunder startled nearby apprentices. They looked toward the sound, puzzled.
When the smoke cleared, Kraznys was mangled. Half his body was gone, and an arm had been vaporized. The stench of burnt flesh choked the air.
"Ancestors... was this truly a glorious battle?" Kraznys muttered.
Before him, Edwyn stood upright, protected by magic. His Guardian Pendant had triggered a shield that absorbed the worst of the blast, followed by his magic barrier.
Modified by Elia, his shield could easily block sub-20-energy spells. With enough mana, it could even withstand up to 200-energy attacks. Though Edwyn was nowhere near that output, yet.
Kraznys tried to move, but his wounds were too great.
He forced himself upright, locking eyes with Edwyn.
Edwyn had never seen someone so calm before death.
"This was a battle of honor," Kraznys said. "You have earned your glory. I shall return to the Ancestors, to the land of green pastures."
Edwyn stepped forward and beheaded him. But that calm gaze burned into his soul.
And thus ends the tale of Kraznys, last warrior of the Bloodfang Tribe.