Book 4, Chapter 51B (1/2)
Child Of The Forest(2)
Agamemnon leapt into the sky, the giant sword in his hands slicing at the elven youth. It was a simple move, using pure speed and power, but it only caused the elf to light up. He spread his legs in mid-air to land on the heads of two royal soldiers, the spear in his grasp swatting the attack away and countering with a stab of its own.
Agamemnon didn’t make a peep as he dodged, sword moving like the wind to shower the enemy with attacks that seemed to hold no technique to speak of. This was sheer violence supplemented by pure power, a mad barrage that would leave even a saint on the back foot.
The elf brightened up further, eyes filled with praise. His spear was quick as lightning, not yielding in the slightest as he matched Agamemnon blow for blow. It took a mere three attacks before Agamemnon was pushed into a disadvantage, forced off his offence until all he could do was try to save himself.
The spear suddenly pressed close, a simple shake of the elf’s wrist causing it to circle the larger weapon thrice before sending the giant sword flying into the sky. Agamemnon was unwilling to let go, but that only meant his entire body was thrown away.
The elf still had the leisure to raise his hand and pull back the dishevelled hair on his forehead, revealing a dazzling smile. Another flash of green and eight royal soldiers nearby were left with bloody holes in their heads, stiffening before they collapsed outward with him at the centre. Crisp sounds could be heard under his feet as the skulls of his stepping stones shattered, but they still did not fall.
The youth’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield in search of another target.
Time seemed to be distorted in this place. The young elf’s movements were easy and unhurried, almost every minuscule action resulting in death and destruction, but it hadn’t been more than a few seconds since he showed himself. Olar still hadn’t crumpled to the ground, Agamemnon still soaring upwards, and Richard himself was ashen-faced after forcing out a grade 6 spell boosted by Sacrifice to save the bard. He felt as though his body had been set on fire, his hand still pulling open the Book of Holding.
A divine glow landed on Olar, immediately stopping the fountain of blood erupting from his chest. The greater heal had come barely in time, likely having saved the bard’s life. The young elf’s eyes immediately locked onto Flowsand whose hands were still glowing from the spell. His eyes brightened at the sight, but he then shook his head at the thought of having to kill such a beauty.
When his eyes finally landed on Scherr, they stopped moving. The saint was like a frog noticed by a snake, completely on guard yet not daring to move.
However, just as the elf was about to attack, Nyris soared into the sky with axe in hand, attacking with full strength. Despite his noble status and delicate face, this prince had never been afraid of battle. Still, the elf only looked at him and nonchalantly thrust his spear a few times, sending the axe flying. The polearm then smacked into Nyris’ chest, blood spurting from the prince’s mouth as he was thrown away with broken ribs.
The young elf no longer bothered with Nyris, wandering towards Scherr with his spear flashing in and out of sight. The naked eye couldn’t even see the main body of his weapon anymore as an unknown number of attacks were made with every strike.
Scherr’s twin swords danced dazzlingly as he was forced into retreat, expression completely distorted. It wasn’t long before his swords suddenly flew into the sky, the elf’s spear taking the chance to point between his brows. The tip barely touched the head, leaving a tiny red dot.
The saint’s body went stiff, hands lolling by the side as his gaze lost all life. A look of disbelief froze on his face as he swayed, head suddenly exploding into a bloody mist. The headless body still stood in place for a while, refusing to fall down.
The elven youth smiled, spear spiralling to create countless afterimages with seemingly great ease. However, his gaze suddenly froze. He looked up at the sky, just in time to see a bolt of lightning surrounded by a crimson aura strike his forehead.
The chain lightning spell caused the elf to groan, the green light around him growing darker as his eyes flashed with savagery for the first time. His gaze landed on Richard once more, and he started charging towards him.
Richard was sternly flipping through the Book of Holding, dropping yet another bolt on the elf’s head to completely break his barrier. At the same time his own body was surrounded by the sparks from Mana Armament, his speed abruptly increasing as he dodged to the side.
A mocking smile appeared on the young elf’s face as he sped up further, approaching Richard in a near instant. Richard dodged once more, having a third bolt smash into the enemy’s head. The elf finally let loose a miserable howl, but his spear was now extremely close as well. Still Richard did not give in, determination flashing in his eyes as he continued to flip through the book.
This fourth bolt wouldn’t be enough to kill the elf, but the attack from his spear was definitely lethal! However, Richard had used all his might in the last dodge. With the devilish speed of this opponent, it was nigh impossible to stave off the next attack. In that case, it would be better to go all out and throw another spell onto this damned enemy! Even if he didn’t die, at least he would be injured enough for Agamemnon, Nyris, and the rest to exact their vengeance!