Chapter 31: Meaningless Struggle

Behind him, the ancient tree that had been struck by the small object silently collapsed. The massive trunk and countless branches and leaves turned into gray-black powder, falling to the ground and burying the object within.

But the aura it emitted could not be buried. Though it was silent, colorless, and odorless, it was a presence that any living being could feel—darkness, vastness, and death. The aura continued to spread and permeate the surroundings.

His right arm, which had been holding the sword, was severed at the shoulder, blood gushing like a spring. Yet, compared to the wound on his back, this injury seemed almost insignificant. The sword strike had cut upward through most of the muscles in his back, shattered four ribs, and even damaged part of his spine. If not for the black blade that had flown through the air and pinned the holy warrior, that strike would have cleaved him in two.

Yabin hadn't dodged. He hadn't expected the holy warrior behind him to strike so suddenly. But even if he had, he wouldn't have moved. This was the only chance to create an opportunity for Asa, who was trapped in the magical snare, and the only chance to save Talice.

Knight Tamik and Asa's figures had already merged into one, wrapped in the surrounding blade aura and momentum, transforming into a black streak that shot toward the distant forest.

Judging from the final sensation in his right hand, the sword strike that landed on Knight Tamik wasn't particularly heavy. The opportunity he had traded an entire arm for might not have been significant, but there was no other way—this was the limit of his strength.

With his remaining hand, Yabin drew a dagger from his waist and cut the ropes binding Talice. Even this simple action required every ounce of strength he had left. No one could remain vigorous after losing half the muscles in their back. Yabin could even feel his lungs threatening to spill out through the broken ribs.

Am I going to die? Damn it... I can't die... How is this possible... I don't want to die... I don't... Damn it... Is there no way out?

A bitter smile appeared on Yabin's lips. He took a deep breath. Talice was still leaning against him, strands of her golden hair brushing his face. His hand glowed with the light of a purification spell—this was his last, desperate white magic. He pressed his hand against Talice, then slowly slumped to the ground. Even if he could endure the pain from his massive wounds, the pool of blood forming beneath him had already exceeded human limits.

The purification spell perfectly dissipated the magical restraints placed on Talice by Knight Tamik. A cool, cleansing sensation washed over her body, and her restrained power returned. Along with it came clarity of thought. Talice caught Yabin as he collapsed, her face a mix of shock, sorrow, fear, and disbelief. These overwhelming emotions had no clear direction. She couldn't comprehend what had just happened or why. She felt as though she was going mad—or perhaps she already had.

"Yabin, Yabin, what's going on?" Talice felt as though she was holding a sponge soaked in blood. The warm liquid quickly seeped through her hands, leaving a sticky trail. Her white magic, poured into the gaping wound, was like a drop in the ocean—utterly ineffective.

Yabin opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. He could only glance toward the direction from which the holy warrior had charged.

The holy warrior had just snapped out of the series of shocking events. Seeing Knight Tamik and his opponent vanish into the forest, and his comrade pinned to a tree by a thrown blade, he only hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do. He charged at Talice and Yabin with his sword.

The holy warrior's judgment wasn't wrong. In this situation, striking first was the right move. These two were undoubtedly enemies, and neither had a weapon. This was the perfect opportunity.

But he misjudged Talice's reaction. Talice set Yabin down and, instead of picking up a sword or adopting a proper fighting stance, she lunged like a street thug, grabbing the blade with her bare hands. As the sword nearly severed her hand, her fist struck the holy warrior's face, and her foot slammed into his groin.

This was not the action of a trained knight, and it completely caught the holy warrior off guard. His cheek caved in under Talice's punch, and blood sprayed out along with a dozen teeth. But he barely noticed. All his attention was focused on the sensation of his lower body being sent up to his throat.

The holy warrior let out a scream like a strangled pig, his body arcing through the air before crashing to the ground, motionless.

Talice paid no attention to the blood gushing from her hand, nor did she think about how she had just sent the holy warrior flying. She quickly pulled out a scroll from her robe. It was one of the scrolls she had taken with her when she left Celeste, said to be a "Divine Grace" scroll personally crafted by His Holiness the Pope.

The scroll unfurled, and a white, jade-like magical energy gently descended onto Yabin. The effects of a scroll made by a top-tier white mage like the Pope were undoubtedly top-tier as well. It could even save someone who was halfway to death. But Yabin wasn't just halfway dead—he was more than halfway there, nearly completely gone. The blood gushing from his wounds was enough to fill a bathtub, the sword strike on his back had damaged many of his internal organs, and the necromantic curse from Knight Tamik's blade was already spreading through his body. Still, under the influence of this powerful healing magic, Yabin slowly opened his eyes and exhaled.

"Don't waste it... I might be dying..." These were Yabin's first words upon regaining consciousness. He could feel the life force within him breaking apart. The pure and vast magical energy could only temporarily fill the gaps, not reconnect them. Even the blood vessels carrying life force were now filled with white magic, and the hole in his heart caused by the broken ribs was only temporarily patched by the magic. The necromantic curse continued to weaken all his bodily functions. Unless a cardinal personally intervened, this single scroll wouldn't be enough to save him.

"What's going on? Yabin? Why... why did you do this?" Talice knelt beside him, her voice trembling.

"I had to..." Yabin's voice choked. His throat convulsed, but there was no blood left to cough up.

"You... you..." Talice didn't know what to say. She wanted to ask why he had betrayed her, and why he had risked his life to save her at the end. But seeing him like this, she couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Go help Asa..." Although Talice hadn't said anything, and Yabin didn't know the exact relationship between the two former enemies, he had gleaned from Knight Tamik's use of her as leverage and their earlier conversations that they were now on the same side.

"I... I can't leave you..." Talice looked at Yabin, at a loss. The white magic was already spilling out from his severed shoulder—a sign that the magic couldn't fully take effect. This was what happened when white magic was used on a dying body. His body was already beginning to die.

"It was me who asked you to join us... It's my fault..." Tears streamed from the corners of Talice's eyes.

"Heh, if you hadn't asked me to join, Knight Tamik probably wouldn't have let me go either... Do me a favor... If you can... take care of my sister..." Yabin forced a smile. His pupils were already beginning to dilate.

Talice nodded quickly. Then she saw the smile on Yabin's face slowly relax, like a flower that had been tightly clenched and was now loosening, falling apart. She could clearly feel the last traces of life force breaking apart and dissipating from his body.

He was dead. Talice felt it clearly. Then it felt as though a hand had twisted her heart, and large tears began to fall. This was the first time she had ever cried. Before this, she hadn't even known she was capable of tears.

In the forest, Knight Tamik was still chasing, and he was about to catch up.

What's the point of this escape?

Watching Asa flee ahead, Knight Tamik's opinion of him dropped slightly. Although the two high-level healing spells had barely restored his mobility, his slow, stumbling run wasn't going to get him far. This was a completely meaningless struggle.

Of course, no one wants to accept defeat. But to flee after losing, to engage in futile resistance—that was cowardice.

Though Knight Tamik knew this opponent was difficult to deal with, he didn't believe there was any room left for struggle. Two bishop-level white magic spells would have drained most of his magical energy, his fight spirit was gone, and his body hadn't fully recovered. What else could he do? Just by the way his figure swayed and stumbled, Knight Tamik knew he would catch up in just a few breaths.