Chapter 68: Heal The Dragon (Part 2)

As the flaming body completely engulfed the man, the minotaur priest finally let out a breath of relief. However, before he could fully relax, his heart nearly leaped out of his throat in sheer terror.

A deafening roar erupted within the cavern, nearly matching the draconic bellow of Moriel from earlier. Though it lacked the black dragon's piercing resonance and soul-shaking dread, the sheer force of it rippled through the air, shaking everyone to their core. Even the deaf could feel its power—this was a roar that did not merely assault the ears but resonated through the skin and muscles, vibrating through the very air of the cavern. Countless tiny rocks rained down from above, shaken loose by the overwhelming sound.

The minotaur priest was thrown to the ground, his head spinning from the shockwave, while even the temple knights instinctively covered their ears.

Amidst the reverberating roar, the fire elemental giant's body was torn apart. The elemental construct, once a mass of flickering flames, shattered like mist in the wind. Its red-yellow form was ripped asunder by the searing white radiance of fight spirit.

Asa remained unmoved, standing exactly where he had been. The elemental giant that had engulfed him had been obliterated, shredded to pieces by nothing but the sheer force of his fight spirit.

At the very center of the gravity field, Lancelote still couldn't move. His face, usually stoic and unreadable even in the face of his comrade being burned alive, now showed a flicker of astonishment and fear.

He knew exactly what this level of fight spirit meant. If it had come from Grutt, he wouldn't have been surprised—but for it to appear in Asa.

As the second fire elemental surged forward, the leaner man who had fallen alongside Asa stepped up to meet it—Rodhart.

Rodhart did not wield any weapons. Nearly bare, he threw himself headfirst into the embrace of the fire elemental. His body had no fight spirit to shield him; immediately, the sickening sound of burning flesh and the stench of charred meat filled the air. Yet, mingled with the scent of scorching flesh was something even more putrid—the distinct, nauseating rot of decay.

Despite the crushing force of the gravity field, Rodhart moved with surprising speed within the elemental's blazing body. However, no matter how fast he was, it seemed impossible for a bare-handed man to inflict any real harm on a being made of pure fire. And yet, with each of Rodhart's movements, the fire elemental's body twisted, wavered, and steadily weakened—until at last, with a final wail, it dissipated.

As the elemental's flames scattered and vanished, Rodhart was left standing in the open. His entire body had been burned to the point of resembling charcoal—a broken, crumbling statue of blackened flesh. His carbonized skin and muscles smoldered, releasing thick, acrid smoke, and under the oppressive gravity, chunks of his burnt flesh began to peel away, crumbling to the ground.

Only one part of him remained unscathed—his right hand, encased in a layer of black ice. It was a fusion of water magic and the necromantic energy he had drawn from within himself.

Using water magic to slice through the elemental core from within was undoubtedly the most effective way to deal with a fire elemental. And to accurately pinpoint and sever the free-floating elemental cores inside, diving into its body seemed to be the only viable method. It was just that no one had ever considered such an approach before.

Asa certainly wouldn't have known about this method—it was something Rodhart had come up with himself in the moment.

The modifications made by Shante had preserved more than just Rodhart's magical power; they had also retained his judgment and intelligence. A high-level necromantic transformation did not produce mere zombies or mindless puppets. Other than lacking true self-awareness and technically no longer being alive, in every other aspect, he was no weaker than when he had been human.

The tremors in the ground gradually subsided, and the effects of the gravity field began to fade. The bodies of the temple knights grew lighter, but their hearts only sank further. They could sense the aura emanating from Rodhart—an aura that no living being should possess. And judging by the speed he had displayed earlier, this "non-human" was now far stronger and faster than any of them.

No matter what, they knew they had to stop the man healing the black dragon. Two sword-wielding temple knights gathered all the fight spirit and strength they had slowly accumulated and charged toward Asa.

But before they could reach him, a massive, muscle-bound figure blocked their path—it was Hilika. His enormous body stood entirely in front of Asa, shielding him completely. Like Rodhart, he was unarmed, relying solely on his bare fists, which he swung toward the approaching temple knights with crushing force.

Both temple knights reacted simultaneously. Their longswords slashed toward Hilika's arms, infused with white magic and their strongest fight spirit. They had already recognized that this hulking brute was a monster similar to Rodhart. Against such creatures, flashy attacks and non-lethal strikes were meaningless—severing their limbs was the most effective approach.

With a sharp hiss, the two glowing longswords cut into the grayish flesh. The temple knights had judged correctly; against an undead-like monster, even if they couldn't outright kill it, amputating its limbs should have been enough.

However, what they hadn't expected was that, despite their strongest strikes, they had failed to sever the massive arm—an arm as thick as an ordinary man's thigh.

The weapons wielded by the Temple Knights were all high-quality magical weapons, and when infused with their fight spirit, even a steel-forged arm could be easily cleaved. Hilika's arm was certainly not made of steel, yet the knights found it even harder to cut than steel. The grayish muscle was not only tough but also possessed incredible elasticity and resilience. Despite the full force behind the two longswords, they could only slash into the bone, and the strength and fight spirit infused within them were completely dissipated, unable to penetrate further.

Hilika's fists, the size of a child's head, slammed into the chests of the two temple knights. The dull sound of impact was like two siege towers crashing into a city gate.

The two knights were sent flying through the air as if struck by the giant hammer of a siege tower. The Glory Armor on their chests, already dented by Moriel's previous blow, now seemed nearly caved in to the point of pressing into their ribcages. After stumbling to the ground, blood spilled from their mouths. Fortunately, they had realized something was off when their swords struck Hilika's arm and had leapt backward with all their might, dissipating most of the force. The injury, though severe, was not too deep.

However, the psychological impact of that punch was far more damaging. Despite the significant depletion of their fight spirit and energy, their condition could only be described as half of their peak state, yet they were still Temple Knights—some of the most elite warriors on the continent. To think that they couldn't even defend against a single strike like this. The force behind Hilika's punch was almost on par with the one Moriel had delivered to their chest earlier.

Moreover, both Temple Knights could feel multiple necromantic curses spreading from their opponent's body the moment they were struck. Fortunately, the Glory Armor provided exceptional resistance against curses; otherwise, they would barely be able to remain standing.

With a sharp crack, a bolt of lightning shot from the minotaur priest's staff outside the cavern, arcing across Hilika's massive body. Almost simultaneously, as the priest chanted another spell, a jagged stone pillar erupted from the ground, slamming fiercely into Hilika.

The minotaur priest had just struggled to his feet, desperately waving his staff. At this point, there was no longer a clear distinction between allies and enemies—his only priority was stopping that man from healing the black dragon. He had hoped these spells would at least stall this muscle-bound behemoth.

However, the white lightning bolts danced harmlessly across Hilika's body, no more than mere decorative sparks. The stone pillar shattered upon impact, reduced to rubble, without so much as making him flinch. The only real effect of the lightning spell was drawing Hilika's attention.

The enormous figure turned his head toward the minotaur priest, his gaze cold and expressionless. That hollow, unreadable stare made the priest's legs nearly give out beneath him once more.

However, the minotaur priest quickly reminded himself that there was no need to be afraid. Though the gravity field was weakening, it was still in effect—meaning that, terrifying as this monstrous being was, crossing such a distance wouldn't be easy.

Sure enough, Hilika didn't attempt to walk over. Instead, he gripped the pinky finger of his left hand, tore it off, and, with a casual flick of his wrist, sent it hurtling through the air toward the minotaur priest with a deafening whoosh.

Fortunately, the minotaur priest had remained on high alert. The moment Hilika moved, he instinctively rolled to the side. The severed finger barely grazed past his head before smashing into the cavern wall behind him. The force of the impact was immense—rocks crumbled and collapsed in a small avalanche, while the finger itself was obliterated. Tiny fragments of flesh and dark fluid splattered everywhere, some of it landing on the priest's body.

The minotaur priest let out a scream nearly as deafening as Asa's earlier roar. He shot up from the ground as if he'd been tossed into boiling oil, flipping twice in midair before crashing down, utterly silent and motionless.

Welleskay had already risen to his feet, golden war bow drawn, an Anti-Magic Arrow nocked and ready. But he hesitated—he didn't dare release it. He knew that no matter how well-placed his shot, it wouldn't bring down that monstrous brute, let alone Asa. Worse, if he provoked another attack—if that thing threw another finger, or even an arm—he knew he wouldn't survive.

The gravity field was steadily dissipating, but none of the Temple Knights moved. They knew that no matter what they did, it would be futile.

Instead, they stood there, staring at the three figures who had descended upon them like a calamity from the sky—staring in utter awe and disbelief.

This was the kind of look others were supposed to have when gazing upon them.

Asa's hand remained on the black dragon's body, the glow of his healing magic still flickering over Moriel's massive form. Slowly, the dragon's breathing grew stronger.