Knights and Magic Wand -
Chapter 594 - 594 284 Holy Sun Iris
594: Chapter 284 Holy Sun Iris 594: Chapter 284 Holy Sun Iris The skin of the screaming physician visibly shriveled, flesh sinking to reveal the bones underneath.
And the old knight, desperate to drink fresh blood, experienced transformation simultaneously.
The wounds on his bandaged chest began to heal, the scars on his face faded visibly, and even his skin tightened and smoothed, regaining a youthful appearance.
The other physicians screamed in terror and fled to the corner of the room.
Witnessing the drastic changes, Harvey, struck with fear, turned his body and waved his magic wand, chanting a spell.
Blazing red light instantly wrapped around the staff and gathered at the tip, shooting a scorching elemental fire at the mutated Baron Balfe.
But the old knight with a mouth full of sharp teeth moved with unbelievable agility, tossing aside the dried corpse in his hand, his massive body darting to the wall like the wind.
The fired flame missed and hit the physician’s corpse, exploding with a bang.
Just as Harvey controlled the magic flames to leave the corpse, directing them to pursue Balfe on the wall, he saw the opponent leap forward, sharp claws extending from his fingers, less than half a second from reaching right in front of him.
The young Warlock Master, chilled to the bone, interrupted his spell, raising his magic wand to block the descending claws aimed at his head.
However, he was still sent flying by a blow from the Blood Armor Knight whose strength had amplified far beyond his life as a Knight of Valor.
Bang!
The sorcerer’s back slammed heavily against the door, shattering it into pieces.
Harvey, falling into the corridor, hit the wall hard before crashing back to the ground.
Feeling his insides shift painfully, he spat a mouthful of fresh blood, lamenting his misfortune.
At only fifty, as a newly recognized high-level sorcerer, he spent most of his life in the academy studying magic, never trained in close combat.
Facing a formidable Knight of Valor in such a confined space without preparation, Harvey knew his chances of victory were slim.
Just then came the sound of a body leaping through the air, and Harvey grabbed his wand fiercely, thrusting it forward.
(Lorelette Language)
“——In the name of the Summoning Wind, retreat!!”
The warlock shouted the ancient curse with all his might, and the surging magical energy sent Baron Balfe, who was pouncing, flying back into the room.
Not daring to entangle further with the old knight transformed into a vampire monster, Harvey quickly drew a Dharma Seal, lowered his staff spear’s blade, and cast the formed enhancement spell “Wind Boots” under his feet.
His body floated slightly.
The warlock lit the Guardian Spirit Holy Lamp at his waist, turning in its glow as he plunged into the depths of the corridor.
More pressing than Balfe was whether the hidden magic formation had been damaged and if the immensely dangerous blood magic had detected him.
Like fearing exactly what would happen, Harvey, running on the floating wind, suddenly stopped.
The Guardian Spirit Holy Lamp illuminated a faint mist of red blood ahead.
Without hesitation, he swiftly kicked open a large door beside him, escaping inside.
Rushing into a spacious hall, the warlock’s heart lifted with joy.
He remembered this was a dining room in the fortress, and directly opposite was an open balcony facing outside!
But the next moment, a heavy scent of blood filled his nose.
The Holy Lamp illuminated the tables, laid out like food, with the corpses of Kantadar soldiers split open and displayed.
Ripped plate armor, scattered limbs, shattered bodies…
“…Orland people…
those with the Kantadar people…
Orland people…”
A series of ghostly, heavy whispers sounded in his ears, Harvey too shocked to realize they were speaking in Felu Language instead of Urian Language.
His keen sense of magic perceived the seemingly empty hall, filled with wandering specters and vampire monsters.
“…Betrayal…
betrayal…”
Hearing the increasingly venomous voices approaching, the warlock quickly tore off the lantern, pouring magic power into it, using Master Leon’s secret method to brighten the Holy Lamp’s light and send it vibrating.
A blast of sunlight suddenly emanated from Harvey, creating shockwaves around him.
Countless angry, piercing screams erupted instantly, shadowy figures retreating in rage.
Unable to imagine how deeply surrounded he was by vampire monsters, the Warlock Master urgently chanted spells and wielded his staff spear, seizing the moment to summon a more powerful attack magic to sweep away the nearby danger.
The gale of magical energy gathered, and just as he was about to finish uttering several spells, suddenly, the tip of his staff spear tracing a demon rune was clasped by a hand covered in crimson armor plates.
The magic wand seemed frozen there, no matter how hard Harvey fought, it wouldn’t budge.
“…Quiet, wizard,”
A deep, hoarse voice sounded as if from Hell, alongside the crimson high-crowned battle helmet, a grim, ornate armor, and a pair of blood-red eyes.
Seeing the crimson figure that hadn’t been in sight a moment ago, every drop of blood in Harvey’s body froze with soul-deep fear.
Crack, like snapping a dry twig, the enchanted steel-forged spear blade was crushed in the Blood Armor Knight’s palm in an instant.
A crimson mist, like blood, rushed into the still-forming tempestuous element of the magic formation.
——Boom!!!
The violent explosion propelled rolling flames and shockwaves, sending all tables, objects, and corpses in the dining hall flying, burning everything in the fiery storm.
Pillars separating the hall were blasted into splintering debris.
A dark silhouette was lifted high by the shockwave, thrown out of the hall, and fell from mid-air over the fortress balcony, landing with a thud on the ground.
All the hair on his face gone, the agonized Harvey, with trembling hands, reached out from his magic robe sleeves, struggling to raise his scorched, horrific visage.
His eyes already blind, eyelids and lips vanished, leaving only charred, twisted wounds.
Like a dead man, the warlock crawled desperately forward, driven by the survival instinct in his terror.
Just as he crawled a short distance, he heard a blur of footsteps approaching from the front.
The magician, suffering severe injuries and magical backlash, fell into despair.
Ahead of the team rushing toward the sound of explosion, Azeryan, holding high a torch, recognized the pitiful figure of the magic consultant through the still-glimmering demon rune on the wizard robe armor: “…Master Harvey!”
Wave after wave of blood-soaked knights surrounded the scene one after another.
Count Eriv quickly made his way through the crowd, stepped forward, supported himself with his sword, and bent down, his heart pounding as he surveyed the disheveled state of the once young and handsome Northern Wizard.
In the darkness that couldn’t be seen, Harvey’s severely damaged hearing faintly detected living voices and the magic power of the Guardian Spirit Holy Lamp, momentarily easing his despair.
But immediately, he opened his charred, lipless jaws and struggled to utter a warning that was difficult to enunciate.
“…Run…Run quickly!”
—Boom!
A deafening roar came from above everyone’s heads.
A whirlwind of crimson blood mist descended onto the plaza.
A large cloud of dust swirled across the ground with the wind.
The knights from the Thorny Flower family and Kantadar immediately raised their weapons, forming a posture and array, vigilantly watching the suddenly descended crimson mist.
The swirling red mist gradually revealed a figure clad in crimson armor.
An ominous blade entwined with a bloody glow emitted a chilling aura, the brown long hair rising like tendrils behind the crimson battle helmet.
The blood-red eyes swept over the living before them, uttering a hoarse and somber voice:
“…You have nowhere to escape.”
Felu language?
Eriv stood up in shock, furrowing his brow, questioning the speaking ominous presence: “What kind of monster…
are you?”
Monster?
Chewing on this term, Charlemagne heard only hundreds of thousands of hatreds in his mind, densely roaring at him.
A pale face twitched beneath the helmet.
“…Ha ha…
Ha ha…
Ah ha ha ha…”
The dry laughter, starting as a self-deprecating murmur, gradually became high and unrestrained, as the Blood Armor knight lifted the Demon Sword, his whole body trembling with loud laughter.
The laughter even stirred up a storm, the piercing sound waves reverberating as if countless men and women were simultaneously lamenting.
“Oh gods!…” The knights instinctively retreated, cursing while enduring the sharp pain and tinnitus assaulting their brains.
But they couldn’t hear their own voices amid the overwhelming laughter.
The strong-willed warriors gritted their teeth and persevered, but more struggled in pain, discarding their helmets, desperately trying to cover their ears, as trickles of fresh blood oozed from their mouths, ears, eyes, and noses.
The inhuman laughter abruptly ceased, and the Blood Armor knight slowly lowered his sword.
Countless hatreds gnawed at his soul, yearning to witness those who blocked his revenge suffer the same torment.
Strands of shadowy winds howled as commanded, red blood mist circulating around the knights’ formation, with faint death echoes lingering in the ears of the soldiers contracting their array.
Between the towers, under colonnades, in front of street windows, numerous eerie naked figures flitted like ghostly apparitions.
The Blood Armor figure tilted its head, its gaze locking onto the Orland general closely guarded by all the knights.
Rows of blood mist descended next to the Blood Armor knight, coalescing into one undead knight after another, wielding sharp swords.
Boom!
A strong figure fell from the terrace, its bare feet almost crushing the floor below.
Baron Balfe, with a mouth full of fangs, extracted claws from the two withered corpses in his hands, his creepy blood-red eyes gazing at his once-lord.
Eriv’s pupils contracted.
He could still recognize the utterly changed old friend.
A surge of rage exploded from the heart of the Master of Thorns.
“…No matter what you are…
tonight you’ll pay for desecrating my knights!”
The roar of the Thorny Flower Earl was like a declaration of battle.
The knights roared to the sky, charging alongside Eriv who led the assault toward the present undead adversary.
Countless steel boots thundered across the plaza’s stone slabs, with Thorny Flower knights guarding their lord on both flanks, charging toward the enemy’s forefront.
Knight Rohn led the warriors of the Shatai Griffin group on the left wing, with other Kantadar nobles commanding soldiers on the right wing.
A whole line of eerie undead knights, the moment they stepped forth, turned into masses of blood mist, infiltrating the front of the battle formation.
Amid flashing blades and swords, a wave of soldiers spilled blood on the scene of the bizarre enemy’s slaughter feast.
Azeryan thrust his long spear toward the front enemy’s face mask but only pierced through red fog and struck air.
The blood mist swept past his side, feeling the incoming cold wind, and he immediately twisted and stepped into a Cat Spinning, turned back, and swung his spear, knocking aside the sudden sword that appeared behind.
In a golden clamor, he swung the spear staff to fend off the attacking long sword, seized the moment to sidestep and thrust the spearhead into the gap of the opponent’s armor.
As expected, the armored undead adversary ignored the damage, sidestepping to reach and raise his sword, stabbing toward Azeryan’s helmet face mask.
Forced to lift his shoulder, he resisted the sword with his shoulder armor, bending, and exerting himself to topple the foe.
“Die, you monster!” The knight attendant lurking opportunely swung down a battle axe, fiercely striking the helmet of the undead knight, joining forces with his master to knock it to the ground.
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