Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 122 - 122 80 Taking a Risk_3

122: Chapter 80: Taking a Risk_3 122: Chapter 80: Taking a Risk_3 “Chase.”

Emmon cast the spell, slightly extending the distance between the Magic Technique links.

The head of the Fire Snake seemed to regain “consciousness” and, following the Mage’s will, it slithered its fiery body from the tree trunk and lunged at the fleeing blond young man.

“Run, run…

Kovis, I won’t let you die so easily.”

Emmon said loudly, mocking, yet his eyes continuously scanned the shadows of the trees around him.

Another guy was missing.

Just a few steps away.

Holding his breath, Leon leaned against the tree in front of him, quietly listening to the footsteps crunching over dry leaves.

Close enough.

Leon suddenly burst from his hiding spot, setting up the Dharma Seal, charging forward while pointing his fingertips at the Mage Atiyas, just a few steps away from him.

I just knew…

Always vigilant, Emmon immediately raised his Magic Wand, sneering as he opened a defensive barrier against the figure lurking in the shadows.

Seeing rings of intricate purple Demon Runes suddenly unfurl beside the Mage, Leon was neither surprised nor taken aback.

He didn’t stop either, dropping the Handprint that hadn’t gathered any Magic Elements at all, drawing the nimble Light Sword from his waist, and with utmost speed, struck towards Emmon.

“Foolish.”

Watching the very person who had actually killed his mentor brandishing a sword, Emmon couldn’t help but sneer with disdain.

As expected, Leon’s full-strength sword strike felt as if it were chopping a thick iron wall, utterly ineffective no matter how much force he applied.

Retracting his sword, he shifted his stance, attempting to bypass the barrier with a stab from the side.

However, the purple Demon Runes seemed to possess intelligence, shadowing Leon’s movements.

The barrier constantly blocked Leon’s front; there was no chance to get around it.

Another series of cleaves and stabs,

Emmon watched mockingly as the Mortal Iron blade made no progress against his Magic, his own heart growing tired of the excessive tension.

Does this kid think he’s a Paladin from Orelia, showing off with such brute strength?

Initially startled by the Light Arrow attack, he thought he was dealing with a somewhat skilled Spellcaster, which made him hesitant to call his precious Jun Ying into the dense forest.

Now, it seemed that this was merely an outsider armed with some Magical Artifact.

Lifting his unoccupied left hand, Emmon swiftly drew a Dharma Seal with his fingertips, chanting a spell and abruptly waved his hand at the sword-wielding young man.

Leon felt a wall of air, tangible as it pressed towards him, hitting him hard and sending him flying backward.

His hand loosened, letting the blade fly from his grip, and then he was slammed violently against a tree trunk behind him.

Nearly knocking his head, Leon staggered back to the ground, a breath laced with the taste of blood escaping his lips, but his gaze simultaneously sought his Light Sword, now lying far away.

“Is it you, this kind of stuff, who killed my mentor?”

Emmon approached, maintaining the barrier, cautious of any potential retaliatory spell from the person in front, while horizontally holding his Magic Wand, greedily pulling back his Fire Snake.

Kovis, that little bastard, could be slowly tortured, but he had to burn this damn assassin to a crisp first.

Leon lifted his head, tugged at the corner of his mouth, and once again charged at the barrier-protected Mage, gradually forming Isa’s Arrow’s Dharma Seal: “It was I who killed him, and you will join him soon.”

Relying on the already deployed Defensive Magic, Emmon was not intimidated by the young man’s threatening posture, decisively maneuvering the Wand controlling the Fire Snake, ready to strangle him.

Next moment, a sharp piercing sound through the air buzzed like a bee.

But it was neither from Emmon’s Fire Snake nor Leon’s Dharma Seal.

The Light Sword, stuck in the mud from afar and flashing brilliant runes, spun like a silver wheel, flying backwards at high speed from Emmon’s oblique rear.

Hearing the noise behind him, Emmon was slightly startled but then sneered contemptuously, not even bothering to move his front-facing Defensive Magic away.

Such diversionary tactics were not worthy to distract him from the spellcasting pose in front of him.

It was just Kovis, that little bastard’s trick with objects, but how could a mere piece of Mortal Iron, controlled by a magical trick, possibly break his personal defenses.

Whoosh—!

The rune-glowing Sword brushed past the Mage’s body.

The whirlwind raised by its passage lifted Emmon’s hair.

That fan-like spinning blade heavily struck the wooden-wrapped top of Emmon’s Magic Wand.