Battle Art

As the energy faded, the Armored Monster, Zahir, and the Flaming Fist Elite lay sprawled or curled up on the ground, motionless. Their shells and armor plates had fallen away, their skin had turned dark purple, and wisps of black smoke rose from them.

Everyone nearby stared in horror, their bodies stiff. No one dared to approach. The fall of two cornerstones dealt a massive blow to morale.

There weren't even five elite Professionals like Zahir across the entire battlefield.

The Kuo-Toa High Priest leaned on his staff, hunched over, blood streaming from his features. He was in terrible shape.

Clearly, the turmoil in the Weave had affected him badly. Even though his Spell-like Ability didn't depend on the Weave, it couldn't entirely escape the effects and interference of the magical environment.

Anse's face was tense. After hesitating several times, he still didn't act. He admitted he was afraid. If the Kuo-Toa High Priest still had strength to spare, wouldn't that be suicide?

He needed to wait for an opening.

"Ah—"

Land charged over like a madman, bowling down countless monsters along the way.

His heart was now filled with regret. He could have come to help, but seeing that the battle was stable, he had gone to support another area instead. He hadn't arrived in time.

The Kuo-Toa High Priest grinned and chuckled, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. His voice was strange and hoarse, full of madness.

He had been waiting for an opening too. But he had only managed to trick two of them.

Seeing Land charge toward him, he shook the tendrils on his chin, jumped down from the Armored Monster, and scampered toward the river on his short legs, apparently trying to escape.

As an amphibian, jumping into the Chongsa River was like going home. He'd been in an unbeatable position from the start.

A Kuo-Toa Overseer riding a Giant Crab rushed over and stood in front of him, baring its teeth at the charging Land.

[Kuo-Toa Overseer, Kuo-Toa, Challenge Rating 3]

"Go help them." Anse tossed Brat his own bottle of Healing Potion too.

Then he took a deep breath and activated Innate Spellcasting. Magic surged around him, billowing his cloak until it snapped in the wind.

He focused intently, fixing his gaze on the short, purple-skinned priest from afar while constantly calculating Land's position.

"વ્યક્તિગત"

Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Twinned Spell + Hold Person!

His impassioned Draconic words echoed through the air. His staff seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as he swung it. Two barely perceptible Mana Auras appeared out of nowhere above the Kuo-Toa High Priest and the Kuo-Toa Overseer.

The two fishfolk stiffened, their muscles paralyzed. Even their dead-fish eyes couldn't move.

At that moment, Land arrived. His frenzied charge sent water flying, smashed through the cold wind and drizzle, and left a long trail of mist behind him.

The next moment, the Kuo-Toa High Priest's eyelids twitched. His limbs slowly stretched, and the paralysis faded. Even in his terrible condition, Hold Person could affect him for less than a second.

One second was enough!

His Tenacity-filled longsword came down in a dazzling flash. The Kuo-Toa High Priest instinctively raised his staff to shield his neck, and a faint field of energy shimmered around him. But he was facing the Divine Smite that Paladins prided themselves on!

Bang—

The energy field shattered. The clang of metal and the sound of a blade cutting into flesh rang out together. Half the high priest's arm and his staff tore away from his body. His short frame flew sideways, his neck slashed halfway through, and blue-green blood sprayed out in a gorgeous mist.

A Healing Spell's glow appeared around the Kuo-Toa High Priest. He wasn't dead yet!

"Haah—!"

Land tensed his body and swung his arm in a full circle. His longsword became a streak of white light. With a whoosh, it caught up to the falling fishman, pierced him from the belly, and burst out through his neck, forcing his ugly head aside and exposing bloody tissue and windpipe.

[Target killed. Gained 385 Combat Experience]

"So this is an elite Professional!"

Anse was deeply shaken. This was an artful display of combat skill, smooth as flowing water. Only seeing it with his own eyes could he appreciate its beauty. Cold numbers like levels could never convey this suffocating sense of pressure.

"Yeah, I'm not bad either!"

The Kuo-Toa High Priest hit the ground. Land caught up in a few strides, pulled out his sword, and chopped off the fishman's head before finally stopping.

With his death, the noisy battlefield suddenly grew much quieter. Then all the fishfolk abandoned their opponents and fled in panic, one after another diving into the water. In no time, they had vanished.

Only dozens of Goblinoids and Gray Dwarves remained, watching in despair as hundreds of humans closed in around them.

The paralyzed Kuo-Toa Overseer also escaped control and had the Giant Crab carry him into the Chongsa River.

"It's over!" Anse sighed and hurried toward Zahir.

The outcome wasn't perfect, but at least they'd won.

A crowd had already gathered nearby. When they saw Anse and Land coming, they all stepped aside.

The Flaming Fist Barbarian and Zahir were still motionless, their skin covered in purplish-black marks of corruption and giving off a faint stench. They were too horrible to look at.

Several Flaming Fist Soldiers surrounded the Barbarian. His breathing was steady, so he should be savable.

Zahir's chest had stopped rising. Two pieces of flesh had been torn from his chin—the marks left by Brat's fingers as he poured in the potion.

Brat now held the Healing Potion upside down, his thumb plugging the bottle's mouth as he carefully dripped the liquid over Zahir's skin, but there was no improvement.

Zahir was dead. Spare the Dying and Healing Potions only worked on the living.

An old, gray-haired Cleric knelt beside Zahir. Journey in the Sunrise was embroidered on his chest. He was clearly a Cleric of Lothander.

He gently placed one hand on Zahir's chest and gripped his holy symbol with the other. Holy magic imbued with the power of blessings surrounded them both.

With a chant, holy magic descended, but quietly dissipated halfway through, accomplishing nothing.

"Lord of Dawn, why? Why!"

The old Cleric crumpled in an instant. He clasped his holy symbol in both hands and curled in on himself, tears streaming down his face. He looked like a helpless, lonely child who had done something wrong.

"That's the third-circle spell Revivify." Anse understood the incantation and could feel the old Cleric's despair.

He was grieving the Paladin's death, but also mourning the abandonment of his lord.

Land didn't give up. He crouched beside them, channeling the power of Lay on Hands into Zahir's body bit by bit, but the flow soon stopped.

His pool of healing energy had run dry.

Anse turned away, his chest aching.

"Cleric Moody, you still have one third-circle Spell Slot, don't you? You still have one more chance!" Land clutched the old Cleric's hand, his eyes bloodshot.

The old Cleric looked up at the man, but swallowed the words that had risen to his lips. He could only give a firm nod. Only he knew that since the Weave had been disrupted, he hadn't once succeeded in casting a third-circle spell.

He steadied himself, gripped his holy symbol, and prepared to cast again.

Anse's heart stirred. He went over and knelt close beside the old Cleric. "I'll help stabilize the magic."

He closed his eyes. A faint glow appeared across his Soft Scales, and the chaotic magic settled down, docile and calm. Gentle currents of magic formed around them, circling and swirling.

The Weave was, at its core, magic. It simply wove and harnessed raw magic—which was difficult to control—in a particular way. A damaged Weave couldn't contain the raw magic, and the raw magic in turn made the Weave even harder to sense and channel.

He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.

Feeling the magic around him grow more stable, the old Cleric felt a glimmer of hope rise in his heart.

He gripped his holy symbol and used far greater focus than usual to sense and guide the holy magic. It was still difficult, but much smoother than before.

Seconds later, a chant like a song quietly resonated with the holy magic. Gathered Holy Light descended from the void, like the gaze of a God, and enveloped Zahir.

Everyone's breathing slowed. They stared at the scene without blinking.

Then, at last, a barely audible breath escaped Zahir, and his chest began to rise and fall gently, growing more pronounced with each breath.

"He's alive! He's alive!"

"I've got half a bottle of Greater Healing Potion..."

"..."