The Opera House was in a state of total chaos. After the battle commenced, Royas paid no mind to the group of nobles and allowed them to flee.
A continuous stream of Undead was born from the Werewolf’s chanting: Skeletons, Walking Dead, and Wraiths… however, high-tier units like the Headless Horseman were nowhere to be seen.
Ivena helped shoulder a large portion of the pressure for El and the others, while the remaining Undead soldiers were left to Vita.
Sharp sword light clashed head-on against the corruption of the Undead, making the battle incredibly fierce.
The question was, what was El doing?
“El Regis, what are you hiding for? Is this really all you’re capable of?”
The Werewolf roared as a giant skeletal hand burst from the ground, crushing the “El” in front of him into a bloody mist.
But soon, another “El” materialized, putting on a show of chanting magic—the most powerful “Fireball” spell at that.
“Hey, hey, kid, everyone else is betting their lives to fight for you. Yet you aren’t even willing to trade a quarter of a promise with me? That’s far too stingy,” Angell said.
El was constantly scurrying through the Opera House using “Elusive,” creating clones from time to time to interfere with the Werewolf’s judgment.
“Shut up, Angell. This is a battle between Vita and me. We will prove that the schemes of the despicable will eventually be defeated,” El thought to himself.
“Furthermore, if ‘Wrath’ is truly as strong as you say, it must have its limits. I suspect the opportunities you have to help me are few, so I must save them for a truly critical moment.”
The demon shrugged. “Fine, then I’ll just watch to see how you intend to win…”
On the ruins of the stage, the Warlock continued to fire without pause. El’s ears were filled with the shrieks of Wraiths.
The Opera House had long since been smashed to pieces. There wasn’t even a single lamp left; everyone was using their mental perception to locate enemies.
At this moment, his greatest role was to draw the Werewolf’s hatred.
The Werewolf gave them no chance to breathe, keeping the rhythm of the offensive firmly in his hands.
I need to find a way to break through this, El thought.
Whether it was Ivena or Vita, both had been restricted. The only one who could truly break this deadlock was himself.
He touched his neck; it was empty.
After learning that the demon was backing him up, El had given the “Shield of the Void” to Vita, hoping it might create an opportunity for her.
“Why can’t you just die quietly!”
The Werewolf, having killed yet another “El,” let out a howl.
In the end, it’s still a lack of Mana… otherwise, I would have blown this bastard to the sky long ago… El thought.
“What’s wrong? Are you ready to give up?” Angell teased.
*Exhale—calm down, El, calm down.*
At that moment, his teacher’s teachings flashed through his mind.
“Don’t be discouraged, El,” the old Mage had said gently.
“But my Mana…” El’s mood was low.
At that time, Aurelia had broken up with him. El had been constantly reflecting on himself—for example, was it because he was too weak that Leah wanted to leave him?
El was in a lot of pain, so he went to Anthony seeking an answer.
“Doubt is the most powerful enemy. It is easy to negate oneself, but what I want to say is, El, you are very talented.”
“To a Mage, Mana is always secondary. There are professors in the Academy with more Mana than me. But the most important thing is Wisdom.”
“Wisdom is a Mage’s trump card, and their final card. A Mage with nothing but Mana is useless. And this is exactly what you possess…”
*Ah, surely he only said that to comfort me!*
El instinctively complained.
After “Soul Burn,” the Werewolf’s rationality had almost entirely evaporated, leaving only an instinctive desire for battle. In terms of Wisdom, El was certainly much stronger than this madman, yet he was still being suppressed…
“A trump card…” El muttered.
What cards do I have left in my hand that haven’t been played yet…
The Knights Order? They are still preparing…
Ivena and Vita are both pinned down… A spell that can decide the outcome? How could such a thing exist!
Wait, there actually seems to be one!
Suddenly, El seemed to grasp something. Scattered fragments of thought began to piece together in his mind until… a path to victory was carved out.
Ivena expressionlessly cut down a cultist and turned to deal with the Walking Dead rushing toward her.
Royas was very slippery. Although Ivena’s skills had reached their peak, her actual combat experience was quite limited; after all, her primary profession was that of a “maid.”
From time to time, he used the gaps while Ivena was clearing out fodder to launch an attack, dragging out the Elf’s combat rhythm.
As an adventurer, Royas was very familiar with this mode of combat. It was equivalent to treating Ivena as a BOSS with an extremely high danger rating.
This method was very effective; Ivena was indeed pinned down.
Most fatally, her heart was constantly preoccupied with El’s situation, preventing her from fighting with her full strength.
“This is…”
Ivena let out a soft sound of surprise.
An unexpected cultist launched an attack on her. It was Dami, who had previously been controlled by El’s Dream Magic Sigil.
“I see.” Ivena read El’s intention.
She sheathed her short sword and threw out a whip-kick, sending Dami flying toward the stage that had long since become ruins.
“To think he could come up with such a method… as expected of the Young Master.”
Next, she pretended as if nothing had happened and continued to fight the enemies before her.
“Cough, cough, my head hurts so much.” Dami choked on a mouthful of dust as he crawled up from the ruins.
Am I… on a mission?
He squinted his eyes. Before him was a Beastkin with a wolf tail and animal ears, seemingly casting a spell.
How strange. I should leave first… No, he is an enemy. I must kill him.
Dami’s logic shifted rapidly; even he couldn’t understand his own train of thought.
The Werewolf noticed this cultist, but he didn’t take it to heart, continuing his bombardment of El and the others.
“Soul Burn” was painful. The Werewolf’s soul was screaming incessantly. He couldn’t spare any extra attention elsewhere.
Suddenly, a dagger stabbed into the Warlock’s lower back. No Mana, no Combat Aura, just a simple and unadorned strike… but it was entirely unexpected.
Blood seeped from the Werewolf’s body, staining a large portion of his clothes red.
“You… you idiot…”
The Warlock spoke weakly, unable to say anything more.
A Wraith swept past, tearing Dami into pieces.
The Werewolf gasped for breath, struggling to stand up to continue casting magic.
But it was already too late.
“Vita, now! Cut that guy down!” El shouted.
Undoubtedly, Dami’s abnormal behavior was his doing. Just a moment ago, El realized there was one more spell he hadn’t used… and that was the Dream Magic Sigil on Dami.
He used his mental power to guide Dami to stab the Warlock, causing the situation to reverse instantly. This was the Wisdom of a Mage.
“Stop her for me!”
A fierce glint flashed in the Werewolf’s eyes as a large wave of Wraiths launched a suicidal attack on Vita.
A pure white barrier blocked their assault. It was the “Shield of the Void.”
Without hesitation, Vita’s azure Combat Aura erupted, and she charged toward the Warlock’s position with unstoppable force.
In a daze, the Werewolf seemed to see the disappointed gaze of his leader.
*My Lord, I am sorry. I failed to complete your mission…*
In the next moment, sword light interlaced, and the Werewolf was sliced into a bloody mist.