The wailing souls within the mist emitted piercing shrieks as the black fog around them churned violently. Countless distorted, hollow faces separated from the mist, howling as they fell to the ground.
The Disaster Residue condensed rapidly, forming solid shapes—several knight phantoms clad in tattered armor, their eye sockets burning with eerie blue flames.
It wasn’t only the “Dark Calamity” that took shape; silver threads slowly wove across each knight’s surface, fully armoring them in “Moon Silver.”
They silently drew their longswords, also forged from “Moon Silver,” and lined up. Their hollow eye sockets locked onto Weiss simultaneously, the tips of their swords tilting slightly downward in the standard knightly charging stance.
“Tear him apart.”
Norsen’s voice was hoarse and fractured, carrying a bone-chilling coldness.
Weiss’s clenched teeth slipped slightly.
Charging headlong into a one-on-one deathmatch with the Calamity knights was only viable if he could realistically harm them.
At least when he fought Norsen, he had made him feel pain.
But these knights, formed from Disaster Residue, were clearly puppets shaped from his power.
For magical constructs that weren’t the original entity, it was like drones fighting living soldiers—no matter how many he exchanged, it would always be a loss.
And judging by the current situation, he was far from being able to outlast them.
Seeing the look of ease finally drain from Weiss’s face, Norsen allowed a smile to break free.
“I admit, treating a mere mercenary as an opponent is shameful for me.”
His voice cut clearly through the storm, a faint, sickly pleasure lingering in his tone.
“Even if no living witness remains here, I will never forget this humiliation and learn from it.”
Weiss forced a smile:
“Hey, hey, Knight young master, with such a grand spectacle, I really feel honored.”
Norsen snorted coldly:
“That’s good to hear. Having a knight personally bring about the execution of a worm like you is already a tremendous honor. Take it with a smile and die gratefully.”
As his words fell, the Disaster Residue knights clad in “Moon Silver” armor surged forward one after another.
They gave no battle cries; only the grinding sound of their “Moon Silver” armor and the heavy thud of their footsteps filled the air, like death itself charging.
One by one, eerie figures stretched and twisted in the dim “Dark Calamity” wind curtain, like phantoms crawling from the depths of hell, their sole aim to tear apart the living before them.
Watching Weiss surrounded and overwhelmed, Murphiana’s chest tightened beside him.
Even more unbelievable to her was that despite the chaotic appearances and grotesque faces of these Disaster Residue knights, she immediately recognized them—
They were comrades from the knight squad.
Each one she could name.
Once blessed by the Holy Light, solemnly anointed in the sacred temple, kneeling on one knee within the knight’s hall just like herself, having received their swords from the Grand Captain’s hand—these elites.
They were the pride of the Covenant Kingdom, the bastion of the Holy Light.
Now, all of them had become restless spirits after death, enslaved by the very Disaster power they once despised.
And now, they raised their longswords, forged with the Siglivail family art of “Moon Silver,” the silver blades swirling with ominous black energy, swinging down toward the mercenary clad in Holy Light.
Weiss still wanted to run, but there was truly nowhere left to retreat.
This time Norsen was completely serious, no longer making any mistakes of underestimating his enemy.
Not only did he summon Disaster Residue knights one after another to join the battle, but he also stirred up the storm again, surrounding them with a thick, boundless duel arena of “Dark Calamity” fog.
Enemies pressed in from all directions, darkness surging above and beneath.
Facing the first charging knight, Weiss clenched his fists, with no choice but to fight.
He suddenly closed the distance and threw a punch toward the knight’s breastplate.
His fist was wrapped in golden Holy Light, cutting a dazzling streak through the darkness.
Though undead, knights still retained their battle instincts deeply ingrained in their bones.
The knight’s reaction far exceeded Weiss’s expectation; it lifted its arm almost the moment his fist moved, precisely grabbing Weiss’s punch.
Fortunately, Holy Light was the bane of the undead.
The golden flames immediately burned and melted the knight’s body formed of Disaster Residue fog, releasing a familiar sizzling steam.
The knight’s grip only slightly delayed Weiss’s strike, and his punch landed solidly.
However, this blow full of Holy Light did not completely dissipate the Disaster Residue.
Holy Light dispersed the “Dark Calamity” but could not pierce the “Moon Silver.”
The Siglivail family’s special bloodline magic, combined with generations of painstaking research into their family art, allowed the shaping magic of “Moon Silver” to materialize their inherited magical power into desired constructs according to the caster’s will.
The greater the magic power, the more complex, intricate, and high-level the construct could be.
Norsen, already deeply versed in “Moon Silver” magic arts and carefully groomed as the next family head, now had his magical power tremendously amplified by the Disaster power, elevating his “Moon Silver” construction ability to a new height.
The knights he formed had core armor and weapons with defense far exceeding ordinary enchanted arms.
Though Disaster Residue knights were undead, immune to feedback from damage and unafraid of the searing burn of Holy Light, they took the risk of being melted to hold their ground.
Facing one knight, Weiss might still barely manage.
But as knights continuously attacked from multiple angles—
These opponents, without weaknesses, without pain, and without fear of death, quickly overwhelmed Weiss’s defenses.
A sword slashed from the left, forcing him to dodge awkwardly, while a spear from the right jabbed at his ribs.
He had to block with his arm; the collision of Holy Light and “Moon Silver” exploded in a shockwave, numbing his entire arm.
Piercing through the layers of storm, Norsen watched with delight as Weiss’s last reliable means gradually failed and laughed aloud.
“Hahaha! Feeling the helplessness of being a worm, are you? Fine, I won’t wait for you to struggle any longer. This ends now.”
As his words fell, all the Disaster Residue knights seemed to hear the command simultaneously and moved in unison.
They surged forward, their “Moon Silver” blades raised high reflecting cold light in the darkness, mercilessly slashing down at Weiss, who was already faltering at the center.
What could he do?
In this chaotic magical environment, the “Private Time” pocket watch’s delaying effect was far from enough to stop so many opponents.
He hadn’t even managed to pull it out of his pocket.
Right now, he was truly helpless.
At this critical moment, a golden light suddenly blazed forth from his body.
Then, a clear and resolute voice, as if cutting through the layers of magical storms, drifted directly into his ear:
“—Found it.”
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