The Black Hawk Brigade

Teleportation?

The swordmaster, sitting cross-legged on the ground, was struck with a deep sense of shock as he saw the black magic pen suddenly appear before him. He had not anticipated Allen's terrifying speed, and before he could react, the pen was already in motion. Startled, he instinctively drew the slender sword from his back, reversing it to thrust directly at Allen's chest, countering the attack.

The swordmaster's blade was thin, almost fragile, but the moment it was drawn, Allen sensed an overwhelming danger.

The threat did not emanate from the sword itself, but from the intense killing intent attached to it, along with an unwavering resolve. The boundless aura of death seemed to permeate the air like an invisible wind, stifling, more potent than any magical soul strike. The steadfast will embodied the thousand years of cultivation from a true warrior, one who remained calm in the face of any peril.

A millennium of training—what storms had he not weathered?

The swordmaster, guarding the eighth-level gates, felt the overwhelming threat but remained unfazed, calmly thrusting his sword toward Allen's vitals. In most situations, such a mutually assured destruction strategy would cause hesitation in the fiercest of opponents. But this time, he faced Allen.

"You are as good as dead."

Allen's cold smile never wavered as he faced the swordmaster, channeling power into his right arm. The sharp tip of the black magic pen drove through the swordmaster's forehead. A colossal demon-like shadow emerged behind him, dismissing the swordmaster's blade with ease. Time was of the essence; only by swiftly eliminating one of the two guards could he have a chance at survival. Otherwise, capturing the Holy Gem at the tower's peak would be out of the question, let alone escaping.

"Ah…"

The swordmaster let out a scream as his life force, energy, and soul drained away rapidly. His sword, having pierced Allen's body an inch, lost all its momentum. His eyes widened in disbelief, unable to comprehend how his own strength, despite his experience, had failed to prevent his death at Allen's hands. If Allen's speed had startled him, it was his sheer ferocity and strength that sealed his fate.

"Who are you?"

The magician, witnessing Allen's brutality firsthand, took an instinctive step back. From seeing Teresa's figure to the moment the swordmaster fell, only a few breaths passed—Allen's form remained almost a blur. Despite his profound magical power, he had no time to even utter the simplest incantations.

Whoosh...

In response to the magician's question, a grotesque spear shot through his chest, piercing from front to back.

Allen, having consumed the swordmaster's power, showed no sign of slowing down. With a swift flick of his black magic pen, he delivered a lethal strike, cutting off the magician's spell mid-incantation. In the span of half a step, cloaked in the King of Ghosts' cloak, Allen became a force that could slay gods and Buddha alike. Whether magical attacks or close-quarters combat, his strength reached terrifying heights.

"Anyone who stands in my way shall die!"

Allen gripped the magician's throat, lifting him against the stone door, slowly withdrawing the slender sword lodged in his chest. Staring into the magician's terrified eyes, he coldly smirked, tightening his grip as he hungrily consumed his energy. With a sudden surge, the magician's robe fluttered, and a wave of overwhelming energy rippled through the air.

After devouring the power of a peak Ninth Stage swordmaster and magician, Allen's magic and soul energy reached the limit of what a mere magic apprentice could bear. His veins bulged, his skin oozing blood, his body barely containing the savage force threatening to tear him apart. The air was thick with pure energy waves as his power reached the brink of the Magician realm.

"Ah…"

With a low growl, Allen forcibly suppressed the surging energy within him. The final layer of the monastery's defenses had yet to fall, and now was not the time for further breakthroughs. Pressing his hand against the heavy stone door, he pushed it open.

Unlike the seventh level, the eighth level of the Crystal Tower was filled with a vast array of weapons and armor, each radiating immense magical energy. These were at least low-grade treasures, each worth a small fortune in contribution points. The more resources and treasures, the better; they would greatly enhance the Lich Legion's combat capabilities. Allen would not hesitate. Just as he was about to claim everything, a sudden, sharp sense of danger surged in his mind. Grabbing Teresa from behind, he leapt out of the way.

Whoosh! A sharp crossbow bolt barely missed his head. Turning around, he saw a group of figures emerging from the shadows!

Clad in black-scaled armor, each mounted on a ferocious black eagle, their expressions cold as ice. One archer, two magicians, and five heavy-sword knights—each of them exuded a powerful aura of magic or battle energy. The leader, a heavy-sword knight, had eyes like two ice-cold blades, exuding a pressure even greater than that of the Ninth Stage peak swordmaster from before.

"The Black Hawk Brigade?"

Allen's expression grew grim as he eyed the formidable black eagles, quickly discerning their identities.

In the remote settlement of Wu Hai Town, the Black Hawk Brigade, led by the Morgan family, was well known. It was said that their captain, Saint Krue, had attained the Grand Swordmaster rank centuries ago, his strength incomprehensible. When Allen had slain the birdman Urbato, he had known this day would come—though he hadn't anticipated it would be at such a critical moment.

Without a word, the eight experienced demon hunters spread out, seizing advantageous positions and surrounding Allen and Teresa. Their eyes locked onto their souls, and the pressure was palpable, as if a single gesture could unleash a tidal wave of destruction.

Seeing that Allen was cornered, an elderly man dressed in purple and gold robes stepped forward from the shadows, pointing at Allen.

"That's him! Saint Krue, it's this little priest who killed Urbato! Kill him! No, make him wish for death, tear out his eyes, sever his hands!"

Looking at Allen, the elderly man gritted his teeth in hatred. The Black Hawk Brigade had come to the monastery, bent on revenge for Urbato's death.

Years ago, the elderly man had been sent here by his family as a grand overseer, tasked with secretly constructing a new city and bringing his only son, Urbato, to hone his skills. He had hoped his son would one day become the city's lord or even a grand elder of the Morgan family. But after more than a decade, the new city was still unfinished, and his son had lost his life. The years of effort had been wasted, and now, all he wanted was to crush Allen into oblivion.

"Just like father, like son!" Allen's expression turned cold as he sheathed the black magic pen and drew the Giant Demon Sword of Sword Rain.

Seven formidable demon hunters, plus a captain at the Grand Swordmaster level—despite the odds, Allen knew victory was still possible. But defeating them would not be easy, and he had to protect Teresa at the same time. Yet the enemy's strength didn't mean defeat was certain.

After a moment's thought, Allen formulated a daring, reckless plan.