Fierce Battle

The desolate, barren land was silent. The moment the assassin, radiating danger, finished speaking, he vanished into the darkness.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the spot where the assassin had disappeared, warily scanned his surroundings, then swiftly pulled a staff set with a gorgeous, enormous sapphire from his own demiplane.

In an instant, Ryan first cast Light Spell to dispel the darkness around him, then quickly chanted a spell to cast See Invisibility on himself. At the same time, he expanded Spell Eye's detection range to its maximum and searched for the assassin, sharing its vision.

In Faerûn, high-level rogue assassins often learned a range of shadow abilities. They could hide in the darkness and even make brief jumps through the Shadowfell to appear behind their targets and strike.

Ruthless and nimble assassins were often the most terrifying enemies in the dark. They buried themselves in the shadows and reaped lives without mercy, morbidly pursuing the fragile, fleeting beauty of a healthy, beautiful life snuffed out in an instant.

As Faerûn's famous battlefield artillery, mages were also renowned across the world for their frail bodies. As a result, they were often the primary targets of rogue assassins in battle.

To prevent this sort of thing from happening, Yefalin had taught Ryan the battlefield conduct expected of a mage soon after he became one. In short, it came down to a few words: "Keep your distance, kite them, put up a shield, rely on your teammates."

But Ryan had never dreamed that the first time an assassin got in his face, he'd earn the favor of Beshaba, Goddess of Misfortune, who would send a high-level rogue to personally train him. The price was a little steep, though: one slip, and he could lose his life.

Fortunately, thanks to one mage's lifelong habit of being afraid to die, he could still protect himself with the tiny handful of trump cards he'd kept hidden, despite being isolated and in the "desperate straits" of nearly running out of spell slots for the day.

However, the hammy mage knew his enemy had no idea how many cards he was holding, so he was more than happy to put on a frantic performance for him.

The mage's face was ashen, and beads of cold sweat trickled down his smooth, fair forehead. He looked every bit the greenhorn who'd never been in a fight.

Hidden in the Shadowfell, the dark elf Saber licked his lips as he watched the handsome young mage, who looked tense and on edge. Just before, at the moment he'd slashed Ryan's robe, the dagger in his hand had also broken through the magical effects on Ryan, thanks to a divine spell bestowed by Mask, God of Thieves.

That was why, amid the intense movement, Ryan hadn't noticed that his true appearance had been revealed—and had successfully attracted the interest of the rogue lurking in the shadows.

The dark elf rogue gave the fair-haired, handsome young man a careful once-over, then grinned even more manically. "The intel said our target this time was an academy mage who rarely left his home. I thought he'd be another bookworm who'd studied magic until he was stupid. Didn't expect him to be a kid who hasn't even grown a hair yet.

"That's it, that's it! Killing a genius like this is what makes it so satisfying. Personally sending a young genius like you to your doom—that's the real pleasure of this job! Ahahahahaha!"

Unable to contain his mounting bloodlust and morbid excitement, the assassin slipped out of the Shadowfell. He followed the blind spots in Ryan's field of vision and charged toward him, both blades gripped tightly in his hands. They seemed to share their master's growing enthusiasm, their poisoned edges glowing faintly green in the dark.

The sharp dagger suddenly thrust toward Ryan's lower back. The assassin could almost hear the young mage's pained, miserable screams, and his face twisted into an evil, ferocious grin.

But with a clang, the advancing dagger was blocked by a long, thick staff that gleamed with a metallic sheen. Ryan shouted, "Found you!"

The sapphire atop the exquisitely crafted staff, beautiful as a work of art, flashed with magical light. A dark green ray shot toward the rogue, whose smile had frozen as he stared in shock.

Hit by the ray of the color of redemption, the bewildered rogue suddenly felt all his strength drain away. It was as if he'd just stumbled out of a brothel after three days of hard work.

Ryan quickly chanted a spell. The sapphire set in the staff flashed, and Ryan's strength and agility surged in an instant.

Ryan shifted his stance and wielded the heavy staff like a club. With practiced technique, he kept the rogue pinned down, taking advantage of his drastically reduced strength and the fact that he hadn't yet adjusted to it.

"Damn it, are you even a mage? What kind of mage fights like this?!" the furious dark elf roared.

Ryan said nothing in response to the rogue's challenge. He swung his staff calmly, restricting the dark elf's movements and using his overwhelming, magically enhanced strength to bully him, never letting him return to the darkness.

Before Ryan set out, Yefalin had given him a magic scroll containing "Seventh-Circle Spell—Heightened Magic—Greater Teleport," which could ignore any spatial restrictions below the seventh circle and teleport him to a random safe location. She'd warned him not to use it unless absolutely necessary.

So Ryan could say he'd been in an unbeatable position from the start: he could press the attack or beat a hasty retreat. What could be better?

Still, this was Ryan's first appearance on Faerûn's grand stage, and as a newcomer, he had no intention of retreating just yet.

As a coward, Ryan had always preferred to physically eliminate anyone who threatened his life. So when this assassin suddenly appeared and tried to kill him, Ryan's murderous intent began to rise.

Besides, the staff in his hands and the handful of other trump cards he'd kept hidden gave Ryan the confidence to hold his own. He'd already made up his mind to send this dark elf to meet his god.

The staff Ryan now swung with a fierce whoosh was the coming-of-age gift Yefalin had given him for his sixteenth birthday.

Made entirely of cold iron, with some mithral mixed in, the staff had been made harder and its quality improved.

The sapphire set at its tip served as a powerful medium for binding spells while also enhancing its wielder's magical power. Crafted with meticulous care by a master artisan, the whole staff was as gorgeous as a work of art.

Yefalin had also enchanted the staff, giving it enhanced attributes and allowing it to record three spells below the third circle each week. After all those measures, the staff's attributes had become as impressive as the following:

[Ryan's Signature Staff (Bound)

Cold iron mixed with mithral, set with a perfect-grade sapphire.

Attributes: Intelligence +1, Strength +1, Stamina +1, Charisma +1

Can permanently store three spells per week (below the third circle)

Current stored spells

Second-Circle Spell—Exhaustion: Causes the target to become exhausted 0/1

Second-Circle Spell—Bull's Strength: Grants the target a +4 bonus to Strength 0/1

Second-Circle Spell—Cat's Grace: Grants the target a +4 bonus to Dexterity 0/1

Note: Ryan, remember, a mage's greatest strength is wisdom.—Yefalin]

Yefalin had practically worn herself out worrying about this student. He was clearly a fine prospect as a mage, yet from a young age he'd practiced his club technique at home until it was second nature. He'd even insisted, "What should a mage do when an enemy gets close? Obviously, swing the staff and bash their brains in."

Good grief, what kind of mage fought like a street punk, swinging a staff around? Even the weirdos in the School of Transmutation fought by turning into magical beasts and using their tough hides and unique abilities!

Yet Ryan had his own twisted logic. He said that the volume of a barrel was determined by its shortest stave, so as a mage, he had to train his body and martial skills to make up for his weaknesses. Every time he said that, Yefalin could only look at the blond little boy making his case and smile indulgently.

After all, Ryan had trained his body since childhood and had even asked his family to find a monk who specialized in staff fighting to teach him for two years. He'd already developed a staff technique that was quite impressive. On top of that, Ryan could use the system's functions to multitask, studying new magical knowledge while training his body. So although Ryan looked slender, his lean frame concealed explosive strength.

And since Ryan's progress in magic hadn't suffered, Yefalin hadn't been too hard on him. When forging the staff for him, she had even taken that into account, reinforcing it and improving its ability to be used in combat.

Ever since receiving the staff, Ryan had been unable to put it down. Just as Yefalin had expected, he'd chosen three spells for it that were perfect for close-quarters combat, all from the School of Transmutation: Exhaustion weakened his opponent, Bull's Strength increased his strength, and Cat's Grace improved his footwork. A perfect combination!

It was like our team's hero had stacked all his buffs before bullying an ADC who'd gone out with no gear. Shameless.

With magic bolstering him, Ryan kept swinging his staff while occasionally firing off Magic Missiles to disrupt the rogue's movements. Each time the heavy Cold Iron Staff was blocked, its force jarred the rogue's wrists.

As the fight went on, Ryan gradually took the initiative.