Outside the manor, as he watched Sir Jesse's carriage disappear into the distance, a figure cloaked in black stood alone beneath a tree. He turned to look at the thriving manor before him and muttered disdainfully:
"The riffraff have finally left. I'm supposed to work with two useless mages? What was Black Knight Jack thinking?"
"I'm a Warlock blessed with a powerful bloodline. They've got nothing but a Black Iron Mage and a few Black Iron guards. I could summon a Bronze-rank Demon and wipe them all out!"
Though he was confident in his own strength, the Warlock Goman was cautious enough not to sneak into enemy territory himself. Instead, he took out a Bronze-made badge, its face engraved with the menacing image of a Demon. He raised it to his chest and poured his magic into it.
"Come forth, Blade Demon!"
The badge was activated by the magic and glowed with a dark, eerie light. A beam of light projected in front of him, and a creature nearly eight feet tall—at least three heads taller than an adult human—appeared before the Warlock.
"Damn you, Warlock! You've summoned the great Rizlik again. Where's my sacrifice?"
The Blade Demon looked terrifying. Though vaguely humanoid, it had blue-black skin and hard spikes covering its head, back, and joints. Its arms had entirely lost their human shape, transforming into a pair of mantis-like blades. From their sharpness, it was clear they could easily cut through a human's spine.
Goman cursed inwardly. You stupid, hotheaded Blade Demon. If my Fire-Burning Demon summoning badge hadn't been damaged when I escaped the Hand of Justice's lackeys last time, I wouldn't need to summon a conceited fool like you!
But he needed the creature's help to carry out his plan, so Goman swallowed his irritation and pointed toward the manor.
"Your sacrifice is inside the manor. The souls of a Black Iron Mage and three Black Iron guards should greatly increase your strength. The mage is not only a Summoner, but also a human noble!"
Sure enough, the Blade Demon's face grew greedy. It practically drooled as it said:
"Heh heh! A tender, noble human mage! It's been years since the great Rizlik last enjoyed one! Lowly Warlock, I'm very pleased with your offering. Next time, depending on my mood, I might let you summon me for free!"
With that, the Demon strode toward the manor gate.
Goman sneered inwardly. A free summoning? What a brainless Demon! Why would I summon a musclehead like you if there were no fighting? Once there's a battle, the enemy's souls and flesh are your sacrifice. When have I ever paid you anything extra? You're not as smart as even the lowliest Dretch!
Though he mocked the Demon, the Warlock still prepared a Wicked Arts spell to assist its attack.
Sleep Mist was an unusual third-level spell. An upgraded version of the first-level Sleep spell, it had expanded from a single-target spell into an area spell, and its effects were considerably stronger. Choosing a frontal assault did show some disregard for the enemy's strength, but the Warlock also wanted to avoid making too much noise and drawing anyone's attention to him.
A faint black mist, like something out of a nightmare, gathered before the Warlock and spread toward the manor. Every creature enveloped by the mist fell asleep against its will.
As soon as the Wicked Arts spell ended, Goman heard a sudden crash from up ahead.
The Blade Demon hadn't even reached the manor gate when two stones, each the size of a wooden wine barrel, struck it head-on. One missed and hit the ground by its feet; the other hit it squarely in the face. The Blade Demon's head split open and bled, and the impact left it dizzy.
Only a Demon, with its incredible strength and recovery, could withstand that. Blade Demons in particular were mid-level Demons whose evolution centered on physical power. They were as strong as large magical beasts, and their unusual bodies made them nearly immortal. Unless their heads were severed or their heart cores shattered, even the most serious injuries would eventually heal.
A Bronze-level human combatant hit like that would have been badly wounded, if not killed. This showed that the manor's owner had misjudged the defenses: he had only accounted for the strength of human enemies, never expecting an abnormally powerful enemy like a Demon.
The rock attack looked serious, but apart from being dazed, the Blade Demon had suffered only minor flesh wounds. With a Demon's constitution, it recovered quickly. Still unsteady and dizzy, it soon spotted the culprits: two ancient trees standing on either side of the manor gate, more than ten meters apart.
The Demon roared, "Damn Treants! You firewood that ought to have been burned to ash—how are you still around?"
Then it charged toward the manor gate, enduring the unrelenting barrage of stones.
Watching the manor from a distance, the Warlock Goman was also taken aback. According to what he knew, the legendary Treants hadn't appeared in the outside world for hundreds of years. It was said that, apart from a few found in Elf territory, the ancient natural Treants that once filled the forests of the Main World had all gone extinct.
The nature-loving Treants were natural enemies of the evil, chaotic Demons. During the first and second Demon Calamities, many Treants had joined the Elves in the Demon-Slaying Alliance to resist the Abyss's invasion. Their presence made Goman wonder whether his target had some connection to that troublesome race, the Elves.
If so, that was bad news.
At the Blade Demon's speed, it covered the distance in just a few breaths. It raised its arms and destroyed the newly built manor gate in two blows.
At the same time, inside the farmhouse residence, Donald was linked to the Tree of Life. In their mental vision, a huge red dot was charging into the manor.
"Someone's invading the manor!"
Donald hadn't expected an enemy to attack the day after he'd finished building the manor's defenses—especially when he'd just let his guard down after hosting a banquet.
The intruder hadn't tried to sneak in. He had cast a strange spell, then strolled right through the main gate.
The bizarre spell immediately made Donald think of the Warlocks.
"But aren't Warlocks supposed to prefer ambushes and setting traps?"
It seemed the knowledge in books was not something to accept blindly—or entirely dismiss. The wisdom and experience of the ancients from his previous life were more reliable: read widely, travel far, and adapt to any situation.
The enemy's bizarre spell was extremely powerful, which meant the intruder was at least a Bronze-level spellcaster. Apart from the Treants, whose bodies differed from those of animals and whose lives were protected by the Force of Nature, and Donald, host of a divine artifact, even Clinton and the other two—whose souls had reached level 2 thanks to the Book of Truth and whose willpower was strong—were affected by the spell. They hadn't completely passed out, but their minds had grown hazy.
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