A Beginning

Red Beard stepped back half a pace and raised his sword to parry, but the immense force transmitted through the blade caused his arm to sink abruptly.

The force exceeded his expectations, shifting his center of gravity forward. Kraun seized the opportunity, shifted his body a small step to the left, retracted his sword, and thrust it out once more.

It was already too late for Red Beard to retreat; the sharp tip of the sword was already pressed against his throat, the icy chill making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Haha, Savas, you really need to fix that arrogant habit of yours!"

Outside the arena, another leaner warrior mocked, "Why not let me have a go at him?"

Hamfa looked embarrassed and snapped irritably, "Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit; you've actually learned to underestimate your opponent!"

Kraun stepped back, and as the sword tip pulled away, Red Beard's face flushed red and then turned pale.

"Again," Savas initiated the attack, his offensive like a surging, endless river.

The Crusader Order warriors possessed physical capabilities that exceeded the limits of ordinary men. After a flurry of attacks, Kraun could only struggle to cope, and soon, many new wounds appeared on his body.

The pain stimulated Kraun's nerves, and his focus grew even sharper.

Ten minutes later, Hamfa said to the priest beside him, "Your Acolyte's swordsmanship is surprisingly excellent. I feel like he is constantly improving even during the fight."

"I won't tell you that after only a few days of training, his swordsmanship already surpassed mine," Nick nodded. "That is exactly what I admire most about him. The greater the external pressure, the more resilient he becomes. Just watch, his performance will surely surprise you all."

Another twenty minutes passed, and Savas's movements slowed down, giving Kraun more and more opportunities to counterattack.

Attacking consumes more stamina than defending, especially when one cannot break through for a long time.

His strength lay in explosive power, but his endurance was somewhat lacking.

His opponent was slippery and refused to engage him in a direct head-on clash, and since his speed wasn't enough to overwhelm, he couldn't catch him. As the battle turned into a war of attrition, he found himself feeling increasingly inadequate.

Nick saw this situation and said to his old friend, "It seems Savas isn't applying enough pressure anymore."

Hamfa sneered, "I didn't expect his endurance to be inferior to an Acolyte who hasn't even advanced to the transcendent level. Marshall, you go."

The lean warrior acknowledged the order and shouted, "Savas, I'm here to take your place!"

As the words left his lips, he had already raised his sword and leaped into the fray.

"No need," Red Beard's face grew even redder, but he ultimately didn't strike again and walked dejectedly toward the two priests.

"Watch closely," Hamfa glared at him fiercely. "Your swordsmanship is no better than his; there is a reason you couldn't break through."

Kraun felt the pressure suddenly increase significantly. After exhausting so much stamina, fighting a fresh, vigorous warrior was a massive test for him.

The opponent had plenty of energy and posed a great threat to him.

Marshall brandished his sharp sword, shouting incessantly, "Kid, pick up the pace! Are you waiting to die by being so slow?"

The lean warrior was faster than Red Beard, suppressing his opponent in every aspect.

Kraun's breathing grew heavier; his throat felt like a parched kiln, and blood soaked through his white clothes where his half-plate armor didn't cover.

Slowly, he forgot why he was fighting; in his eyes, there was only the figure of the lean warrior and the shadows of his sword.

Outside the arena, Nick looked grave and muttered to himself, "This isn't right. Under this level of combat intensity, the Seed of Life should have sprouted long ago. Why hasn't he succeeded yet?"

He had said that a life-or-death struggle was the only way to break through, but that was an old wives' tale.

Through constant refinement, the Church had developed a new potion to induce the sprouting of the Seed of Life, significantly increasing the success rate.

The priest turned his head abruptly: "Hamfa, did you bring the wrong potion? Why hasn't he succeeded yet?"

The fair-skinned priest curled his lips: "Old friend, you are blinded by your concern. The fact that the Seed of Life hasn't sprouted yet only proves one thing: he hasn't reached the limit of an Acolyte yet! You are truly lucky to have encountered such a talented Acolyte. His endurance is surprisingly good, and his strength and speed are not weak either. If he succeeds in his advancement, dealing with ordinary monsters will be as easy as chopping vegetables."

Marshall also felt a bit anxious; his opponent had actually withstood his attacks for so long.

If this dragged on any longer, he would lose face.

Thinking this, his attacks became even more ferocious.

Kraun felt that every movement was a struggle; every time their swords clashed, his legs would tremble.

The burning sensation throughout his body intensified, and his stamina was completely depleted.

Marshall observed his opponent's reactions and knew he had reached his limit. He pushed off with his feet, lunged forward, and thrust out, his speed much faster than before.

Kraun subconsciously retreated and raised his sword to parry, but he didn't expect this to be a feint.

The lean warrior changed his move, and the tip of his sword swept toward his neck.

I can't dodge this, half my neck is about to be gone.

Watching the sword tip grow larger in his vision, Kraun felt a surge of panic and raised his sword to parry upward.

Fast, fast! A warning flashed in his mind, but his body couldn't keep up with his intent.

The sword tip drew closer and closer.

Just as the chill reached his neck, a warm current suddenly surged from his abdomen, instantly reaching his limbs and bones, and his entire body was filled with strength once again.

A stream of energy erupted from every pore in his body, and the speed of the sword in his hand surged, blocking the sweeping tip.

The sword tip grazed past, leaving a half-finger-deep wound on his neck.

Kraun prepared to counterattack, but Nick's joyful voice reached him: "Alright, that's enough."

He only felt a blur before his eyes, and the priest was already by his side.

Nick patted him on the shoulder, his eyes brimming with a smile as he nodded repeatedly. "Good, well done. You have already advanced to the transcendent level."

"That's it?"

Kraun was stunned. "I don't feel any different."

Nick smiled mysteriously. "You will feel the difference soon enough."

No sooner had the priest finished speaking than Kraun felt his blood begin to boil; the sensation was far more scorching than when he had consumed the potion.

He saw his own reflection in the blade of a sword, his veins bulging and his face flushed crimson. His body thinned by a visible margin, and a wave of intense hunger washed over him, leaving him with the urge to devour an entire sheep raw.

He was familiar with this situation.

Every time he practiced the visualization for the Golden Light Incantation, it triggered this hunger, but this time it was far more intense.

"Hungry," Kraun rasped, his voice low and guttural, like a beast ready to tear its prey apart.

"Hurry to the dining hall; it has already been prepared for you."

Before the priest could finish his sentence, Kraun had already bolted out like an arrow released from a bow.

He arrived at the dining hall to find a roasted suckling pig, large blocks of cheese, a generous portion of white bread, and a platter of meat skewers laid out on the table.

Grabbing the suckling pig, he sank his teeth deep into its snout.

Nick walked over, beaming with delight. "Eat slowly. Once you're finished, you can begin learning the Breathing Technique of the Crusader Order. Transcendent is merely the beginning."