Malicious Overtime

White Dove drew back his cane. He seemed to want to strike Ash again, and multiple Spell Spirits emerged from the tip of the cane. Like devout pilgrims on a holy journey, they turned into wisps of smoke and wrapped around the cane, layer upon layer of sharp edges building up at the tip. They sliced the surrounding air into rolling waves of cloud as ultimate might condensed to the brink of eruption.

If that first thrust of his had been silent spring rain, then this next thrust would be a summer thunderstorm. Anything it touched would be reduced to dust!

The first thrust pierced Ash's brain. The second would annihilate Ash's body!

But in the next instant, White Dove dispersed the cane's violent power and gave up the attack.

Because Vesir rushed over and snatched Ash away.

The plump Round Cicada also appeared behind Ash's head. It sucked in a fierce breath, puffing up its belly, and let out a strange bubbly cry, as if it were calling underwater. At the same time, Ash's head returned to normal, and the briefly severed consciousness returned to its loyal body. The light came back into his eyes.

"You just died!" Vesir let out a breath of relief.

"I just died." Though Ash still felt some lingering fear, he was more dazed than anything.

There had been no time to look back over his life, no chance to leave any last words. The battle experience he was so proud of, the Holy Domain he trusted so utterly—neither had bought him even a single second to react.

If he had to describe it, he was like an elite character in a video game. He was strong, high-level, with plenty of passive skills. He had the ability to deal with any opponent, but White