Chapter Thirteen: The Strong Ones
Vero’s arrival finally brought Kommer his first spring since arriving in the Caucasus. The girl’s delicate and sweet voice seemed to echo in Kommer’s ears at all times. He didn’t know how many times he had fallen in love, but in the eyes of Puber and Ilot, he appeared utterly hypocritical. Wasn’t it a bit too pretentious of him to keep blaming himself at such times?
Vero had come to avoid arranged marriages. When she accidentally learned that the prince of neighboring Bohemia was about to visit Calais and intended to meet her, even though she knew little about worldly affairs, she understood what this meant. Without any preparation, she left right away. She wasn’t averse to marriage, but she hated the idea of having her life’s happiness determined before she even met the person in question. So, she chose to travel.
It wasn’t until she stepped out of the grand duke’s residence that she realized she seemed to have nowhere to go. Among the vast crowd, there wasn’t a single person she could talk to sincerely. Although she had many girlfriends, those girls from noble families seemed more interested in discussing romance and the affairs of various noble youths. This gloomy mood persisted until she accidentally touched the magic ring on her finger. Suddenly, Kommer’s polite yet firm image reappeared in her mind. In comparison, Sir Sart’s behavior left her even more disgusted. Thus, she decided to travel to the Caucasus.
Rebri didn’t care that Vero had discovered his choice. For him, Damorlensk Castle was nothing short of an endless treasure trove. After discovering two sealed magical barriers during his first expedition, he and his friends became even more enthusiastic about uncovering the secrets hidden within this massive castle. Their efforts paid off—near the sealed area in the northeast corner, Rebri and his friends found another secret passage, also sealed with a magic array. The scale of this array was astonishing. According to their friends’ deductions, it must be an extremely complex and eerie dark magic array—the Gate of Bode, a type of dark devouring magic array. If one entered recklessly without breaking this array, anything, whether human or other creatures, could be swallowed and sent to another realm in mere moments.
According to Rebrí’s friend—a seasoned researcher of dark magic and also a dark mage—it is generally necessary to have a dark sacred object as a catalyst for a magic array of such scale; otherwise, it cannot be activated. Just like the ancient starry sky magic array in the Archangel Square, though magnificent, it clearly lacked a spiritual object as a catalyst. A magic array of this size could definitely not be activated by any single mage. Perhaps through long periods of historical change, the catalyst spirit within the array had disappeared, leaving only historical relics behind.
Rebrí’s friend, who was expert in mechanisms, finally signaled the start of full-scale development of Damorsk Fortress. However, after witnessing several of the fortress’s forbidden mechanisms, the cautious dark sorcerer became much more cautious. Aside from some measurements and calculations, he did not offer any feasible suggestions. Rebrí and the others were unusually patient, perhaps believing that as long as their friend was around, any challenge could be overcome.
A hundred elite half-orc guards served as targets for the training of two dark knights. Despite the half-orc warriors’ exceptional strength, they still suffered greatly under the intense training of the two dark knights. Yet the training quickly paid off. After a month of intensive training, these half-orc guards surpassed the rest of the guard force in terms of overall discipline and individual combat skills. This prompted Komer to assign further tasks to the two nearly exhausted dark knights. Fortunately, the exact time for breaking the restrictions had not yet been determined, so the two dark knights reluctantly agreed to take on these duties.
When Komer received a letter from Cyprus, he was eagerly watching the duel between the two dark knights. Normally, such scenes would never be available for Komer to observe, but he convincingly argued that to improve his combat skills more effectively and quickly, it was essential for him to watch the battles. This forced the two dark knights to accept Komer’s unreasonable request.
In Komer’s eyes, Sorenberg’s strength was already among the greatest in the Caucasus. Even though Eilot carried several magic scrolls prepared for him by Komer and used solidifying magic to boost his defensive capabilities, these defenses still seemed utterly fragile and ineffective against Sorenberg. Just a few swift attacks from Sorenberg shattered Eilot’s defensive formation from the start, and using the magic scrolls twice in a row only provided Eilot with a minimal measure of protection. The vast difference in strength turned this confrontation into a one-sided massacre if it were a proper duel.
Komer was amazed by Sorenberg’s formidable and domineering performance during the duel with Eilot. But after witnessing the dark combat energy of another Dark Knight, Vladkov, he couldn’t help but worry about Sorenberg’s fate. Although this was merely a routine sparring match, to the two participants, it was hardly different from a duel—except that the final blow determined whether the opponent would die.
It was only when a cyan-gray aura began to surround Sorenberg that Komer realized Eilot hadn’t shown his true strength during their fight. The power displayed by this seemingly inactive Dark Knight in Damansk Fortress might well be the essence hidden behind his usual cold demeanor. The elegant knight’s sword seemed to be infected by the aura as it immediately extended from the blade to the tip, with flickering afterglows casting a faint blue light along its raised edge. The knight’s robe fluttered dynamically as his combat energy grew stronger. At the peak of the aura, the knight’s sword suddenly shattered into countless fragments, bursting forth with immense force.
The air suddenly turned extremely cold, and even Komer could feel the space twisting and fracturing due to the accumulation of elemental energy. This was the initial manifestation of combat energy taking physical form. Komer knew that his guidance had helped them break through a bottleneck and reach a new level of mastery.
Sorenberg is not truly a Dark Knight in the strict sense. Judging from the cyan-gray combat energy he displays, it seems to be the type of ice-based combat energy. This neutral type of combat energy shares similarities with ice magic—it carries a chilling effect that can deliver a devastating blow while also inflicting harm through its coldness. The superiority of one combat energy over another cannot be determined by attributes alone; every type of combat energy can be cultivated to the level of a Saint (Demon) Warrior, just as there are no limits to magic cultivation. The path to becoming a Saint Demon Master is open to every magician, depending on whether they can reach the ultimate level. The purple-black aura surrounding Sorenberg clearly indicates that his protective spells belong to dark magic, and the unique properties of dark magic determine a knight’s true nature.
This was the first time Komer had witnessed such a detailed display of combat energy. A howling sound arose, like sudden rain brought by a tornado, colliding with the shadow that was rising against the wind.
Vladkov watched coldly as his opponent’s strength continued to grow. As old rivals, Vladkov naturally knew his opponent’s capabilities, just as the opponent knew his own. Yet he still hadn’t expected Sorenberg to make such astonishing progress in just one month. From the intensity of the aura, Vladkov could determine that Sorenberg had advanced from the third stage of the martial arts hierarchy to the fourth. Just a month earlier, Vladkov was certain Sorenberg was still struggling in the third stage. Could the guy sitting aside, watching with excited eyes as if at a circus, truly possess such a vision to dominate the world?
Vladkov genuinely didn’t want to admit it, but his conscience had already told him the truth—this was indeed the case. If it weren’t for that seemingly ignorant lord who guided his dark combat energy, he would still be struggling in the third stage. The guidance of a stronger person is crucial for practitioners who are like those searching for a way out of a maze. Although daily practice is fundamental, choosing the right path can save a warrior countless hours, especially after entering the martial arts realm. The opponent’s improved strength also proved this point—the seemingly harmless lord sitting aside was the true master, though why his behavior was so strange was somewhat puzzling.
The fierce wind hitting his face caused extreme pain in Vladkov’s cheeks. An ordinary person’s flesh would be severely damaged by such a forceful gust of combat energy, but this alone was far from enough to frighten Vladkov. It was the dark presence in the shadows that demanded his full attention.
The sword in his hand transformed into a dark, menacing blade energy through the dark combat energy, with black mist lingering around its edge, adding to Vladkov’s already sinister appearance. He suddenly rose into the air, avoiding the swirling sword energy. With three rapid strikes of his left hand on the blade, the sword energy instantly turned into countless streams of black mist, shooting out to target his opponent below, locking onto the figure swaying at the center.
A torrent of sword energy crashed down, enveloping Sorenberg in the heart of a violent storm. It seemed as though every shadow was aimed at his vital points, with a chilling sense of death piercing deep into his heart. Raising his hand, he effortlessly redirected the out-of-control sword energy, easily changing its target. The massive sword energy collided with the incoming black mist, sparking countless sparks.
Continuous sharp impacts echoed through the space, and the clear sound of sword strikes sent ripples outward. The ground around them rippled like waves, eventually stopping as a foot-high cloud of dust rose slowly, like mist, creeping upward and covering the feet of the two standing on the ground.
A look of surprise crossed Sorenberg’s resolute face, and Vladkov’s pale cheeks showed the same expression.
A devastating strike!
It took a long time before the black mist surrounding Sorenberg gradually dissipated, just as the frost on the white-haired knight’s head turned into mist. With that single strike, Vladkov unleashed his long-prepared dark binding while activating his dark combat energy. Sorenberg responded in kind, channeling the extremely simple ice magic “Frost Arrival” through his knight’s sword directly into Vladkov’s body. He was confident that until he could break through Vladkov’s dark binding, the latter would be frozen in place by his ice magic. Unfortunately, though he thought he had a firm advantage after improving his strength, he hadn’t expected the other party’s power to rise to a level comparable to his own. It seemed this battle would go on for who knew how long before a winner was determined.
Komer was equally drawn to the duel between the two knights. The mental imprint of Kenifer III seemed to be ignited by the sparks that erupted from their dazzling blows in the air, instantly burning away the thick fog that had long shrouded a corner of Komer’s memories. Countless scenes of battles surged into his mind like a tide, unfolding before his soul as the most perfect nightmare ever witnessed.
Komer had no idea when the two Dark Knights had left. He stood alone in the wilderness, gazing straight ahead, as if the entire land had merged with him, even the rhythm of the earth’s breath seeming in perfect harmony. He wasn’t even aware of how long this state lasted. It wasn’t until the last rays of the sunset descended that Komer gradually returned to reality, as if waking from a profound dream.
The sun had set, and the wilderness was silent. Now fully awake, Komer tried to maintain his current state. The intense emotions surging within him made him experience once again the allure of a strong warrior. Though it was only a brief moment, it remained forever etched in the corner of his heart. Motionless, Komer closed his eyes in deep thought. Only in this way could he savor every moment of the dream in detail, bit by bit, like a flowing spring water nourishing his parched heart. Heavy memories could sometimes be a burden, yet they could also serve as the leaven for growth. If one’s life journey could be completely replicated, that would be a form of happiness. But for another person, whether it brought fortune or misfortune would depend entirely on their own perception.