Setting liches aside, while a spellcaster's physical abilities far exceeded those of an ordinary person, they could not compare to a warrior of the same level. After taking such an unparalleled impact, Archmage Anthony lost all signs of life after a brief struggle.
He had died swiftly and cleanly.
It was worth mentioning that during that brief exchange, Caesar suffered attacks from the knightly order several times fiercer than before. His body, which had only just recovered, was covered in wounds again in an instant.
There was no helping it. Although the hormones had greatly enhanced his strength, speed, and reactions, they had done little for his defense. Hormones were not some fantasy item; they could not let Caesar suddenly break through in a life-or-death crisis and cross an entire major realm to become unstoppable.
A single step making a world of difference did not apply to Caesar. Honestly, the black dragon was not much stronger than before. He had merely exploited the enemy's misjudgment caused by their outdated information and seized the opportunity in one stroke to achieve this result.
In other words, if the enemy had known enough and remained wary, Caesar still would not have been able to kill Archmage Anthony.
Having struck their sore spot—the mages were the most vital part of the army—the knightly order's ensuing assault inflicted considerable damage on Caesar.
But none of that mattered anymore. The mage was dead, and Caesar had claimed the greatest prize of the battle. He had no attachment to what remained.
What was more, from the various signals sent by his body, the black dragon knew that although he appeared far more powerful now, the actual situation was far from encouraging. He could fail at any moment.
The hormones had thrown him into an excited state, but