Fierce Battle

The desolate, lonely land was shrouded in silence. No sooner had the assassin, radiating a dangerous aura, finished speaking than he vanished into the darkness.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, scanning the spot where the assassin had disappeared. He cast a vigilant look around before quickly drawing a staff inlaid with a magnificent, oversized sapphire from his personal demiplane.

In a heartbeat, Ryan cast a Light spell to dispel the darkness around him, immediately followed by a quick incantation to apply a See Invisibility spell upon himself. Simultaneously, he pushed the detection range of his Spell Eye to its limit, sharing its vision to hunt for the assassin's silhouette.

In Faerûn, high-level rogue assassins often mastered a series of shadow-based abilities, allowing them to hide within the darkness or even use the Shadow Plane to briefly leap behind their targets for a strike.

Ruthless and agile, these assassins were the most terrifying enemies in the dark. They mercilessly buried themselves in the shadows to reap lives, pathologically pursuing the fragile, fleeting beauty of a healthy, vibrant life extinguished in an instant.

As the renowned "battlefield artillery" of Faerûn, mages were equally famous for their fragile physiques, which made them the primary targets for rogue assassins in combat.

To prevent such scenarios, Yefalin had taught Ryan the essential etiquette of a mage on the battlefield shortly after he began his training. To summarize: "Keep your distance, kite them, layer your shields, and rely on your teammates."

Yet, Ryan never dreamed that his first encounter with an assassin would be graced by the favor of Beshaba, the Goddess of Misfortune, who had personally dispatched a high-level rogue to serve as his sparring partner. The only catch was that the price of this lesson was steep; one slip-up would cost him his life.

However, thanks to a certain mage's habit of fearing death, despite being isolated and facing a "desperate situation" where his spell slots were nearly exhausted, the mage had enough hidden trump cards to ensure his own survival.

Nevertheless, the drama-loving mage knew his enemy had no idea how many cards he held, so he was more than happy to put on a frantic performance.

The mage's face turned ashen, and cold sweat beaded on his smooth, fair forehead—he looked every bit the part of a panicked, greenhorn novice.

Saber, the drow rogue hiding in the Shadow Plane, licked his lips as he watched the tense, vulnerable-looking young mage. The moment he had slashed through Ryan's robes earlier, his dagger, empowered by the divine magic of Mask, the Lord of Shadows, had shattered the magical protections Ryan had been wearing.

Because of this, in the heat of the movement, Ryan had failed to notice that his true face had been exposed, successfully piquing the interest of the lurking rogue.

Studying the handsome features of the golden-haired youth, the drow rogue grinned with a sickly, twisted expression: "The intel said the target was a reclusive academy mage. I thought it would be another bookworm who'd studied himself stupid, but I didn't expect a kid who hasn't even grown his first whiskers."

"This is it, this is it! Killing a genius like this is so satisfying. Personally sending such a young prodigy to his doom—that is the greatest pleasure of this trip! Ahahahahaha!"

Unable to suppress the surging bloodlust and morbid excitement within, the assassin quietly slipped out of the Shadow Plane. He sprinted toward Ryan, staying within the blind spot of the mage's vision. The twin blades gripped in his hands seemed to sense their master's fervor, their poisoned edges glowing with a faint, sickly green light in the darkness.

The sharp dagger lunged toward Ryan's lower back. The assassin could already hear the boy's miserable, agonizing wail, his face twisted into an evil, jagged smile.

But with a crisp clink, the advancing dagger was blocked by a thick, metallic-sheened staff. Ryan let out a roar: "Found you!"

A flash of magical brilliance erupted from the sapphire at the tip of the exquisite staff, and a dark green ray shot toward the rogue, whose smile froze in shock.

Struck by the sickly-colored beam, the bewildered rogue suddenly felt his strength drain away, as if he had just emerged from three days of debauchery.

Ryan chanted quickly, the sapphire on his staff flashing again, and in an instant, his strength and agility surged.

Ryan shifted his stance, wielding the heavy staff like a club. He unleashed a flurry of practiced strikes, suppressing the rogue, who was struggling to adapt to his sudden loss of strength.

"Damn it! Are you even a mage? What kind of mage fights like this?!" the drow roared in exasperation.

Ryan ignored the rogue's questioning, waving his staff with calm indifference. He constricted the drow's movement, using his overwhelming, buff-enhanced strength to bully the rogue and prevent him from slipping back into the shadows.

Before Ryan had set out, Yefalin had given him a scroll sealed with the "7th-level Spell: Greater Teleportation." It could bypass any spatial lock below the 7th level to randomly transport Ryan to a safe location, though she had warned him not to use it unless absolutely necessary.

Thus, Ryan could be said to have been in an invincible position from the start—he could advance to attack or retreat to safety as he pleased. How wonderful.

However, as this was his debut on the grand stage of Faerûn, the greenhorn Ryan had no intention of retreating just yet.

As a coward, Ryan's preferred method for dealing with any enemy threatening his life was physical elimination. Consequently, his desire to kill this assassin who had jumped out to hunt him began to grow.

Coupled with the confidence provided by his staff and his hidden trump cards, Ryan had made up his mind to send this drow to meet his god.

The staff currently whistling through the air in Ryan's hands was the sixteenth birthday gift Yefalin had given him.

Forged from cold iron with an infusion of adamantine, the staff boasted both superior durability and high quality.

The sapphire inlaid at the top served as a medium for powerful binding spells while enhancing the user's magical potency. Crafted by master artisans, the entire staff was as beautiful as a work of art.

Yefalin had also enchanted the staff, allowing it to record three spells of 3rd level or lower each week while providing attribute bonuses. After a series of modifications, the staff's stats had become quite magnificent:

[Ryan's Personal Staff (Bound)
Material: Cold Iron mixed with Adamantine, inlaid with a Perfect-grade Sapphire.
Attributes: Intelligence +1, Strength +1, Constitution +1, Charisma +1
Weekly Capacity: Three constant spells (3rd level or lower)
Current Constant Spells:
2nd-level spell - Exhaustion: Forces the target into a state of extreme fatigue 0/1
2nd-level spell - Bull's Strength: Grants the user a +4 bonus to Strength 0/1
2nd-level spell - Cat's Grace: Grants the user a +4 bonus to Agility 0/1
Note: Ryan, remember, a mage's greatest power is wisdom. --Yefalin]

Yefalin had truly poured her heart into this student. He was clearly a brilliant mage, yet he had practiced a masterful style of staff-fighting since childhood, arguing quite reasonably: "What should a mage do if an enemy gets too close? Obviously, you swing your staff and smash their skull in."

Good grief, there wasn't another mage in the world who fought like a street thug, not even those oddballs in the Transmutation school, who at least transformed into magical beasts to utilize their thick hides and unique abilities!

Yet Ryan had his own twisted logic, claiming that the capacity of a barrel is determined by its shortest stave, so as a mage, he had to train his body and martial arts to compensate for his weaknesses. Whenever he said this, Yefalin could only watch the golden-haired boy with a helpless, doting smile.

After all, Ryan had been training his body since he was young, even hiring a monk specializing in staff-fighting from his family to tutor him for two years, resulting in a solid foundation in martial arts. Plus, Ryan could use his system's functions to multitask, training his body while studying new magical knowledge. So, despite his slender frame, Ryan's thin body contained explosive power.

Yefalin hadn't been too harsh on him, seeing that his magical progress hadn't suffered. When she forged the staff, she had specifically reinforced its durability and combat capabilities with this in mind.

Ryan had been inseparable from the staff since receiving it, and as Yefalin had expected, he had chosen three Transmutation spells for close-quarters combat: Exhaustion to weaken opponents, Bull's Strength to boost his own, and Cat's Grace to enhance his footwork—a perfect match!

It was like a hero stacking every buff available just to bully an unequipped ADC; it was utterly shameless.

Under the influence of his magical buffs, Ryan continued to swing his staff while occasionally firing off Magic Missiles to disrupt the rogue's positioning. Every time the heavy cold iron staff was parried, the impact sent a shockwave through the rogue's wrists.

As the battle progressed, Ryan gradually seized the initiative.