Chapter 316 Embers

Rumble—

Tyrannical flames from Purgatory burned fiercely, casting nearly the entire nest in the deep, dark red of coagulated blood.

In the center of the cavern, bathed in the firelight, a tall, twisted figure stood motionless.

As if forcibly stretched by some strange power, obvious cracks marred the joints at his elbows and knees. Like shattered porcelain, the torn skin revealed the flesh, veins, and even bone beneath.

Under normal circumstances, such catastrophic, body-shattering injuries would undoubtedly belong to a corpse.

But right now, the ominous flames covering his entire body acted as an adhesive, forcibly piecing the broken limbs together to barely maintain a human shape.

Only by the melted leather armor—destroyed by the swirling flames and sagging at his waist—and his relatively intact, youthful face could one identify him as Abi, the former low-rank adventurer.

Saloyan drew his attention away from the fallen figure a short distance off, whose chest had been pierced by a long blade and whose life force was rapidly fading.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He could clearly tell that the two surviving adventurers on the other side possessed much higher Class Levels than this black-haired man named Xia Nan.

Yet, the rich experience he had accumulated over countless years allowed him to instinctively sense a far greater danger radiating from the latter, eclipsing the other two combined.

That was why, immediately after completing the summoning ritual, Saloyan had dispatched the Barbed Devil—the strongest combatant among his summons—to engage the man, keeping a close eye on their battle.

And reality... was exactly as he had expected.

The roaring wolf howls, the bursting forcefield energy, and the skill and intuition the man displayed in combat far exceeded the average capabilities of Class Holders at his rank.

Even when facing a Barbed Devil with a Challenge Rating higher than his Class Level, he didn't lose the upper hand—he even crushed it head-on.

Clearly, this black-haired youth was absolutely not the kind of ordinary Class Holder commonly found in Rivervale Town.

But what surprised Saloyan most was the combat intuition the youth demonstrated in such a fleeting, frantic moment.

Taking out backline mages or archers first was an unspoken rule perfectly understood by any adventurer with even a sliver of combat experience and professional competence.

Given the situation on the battlefield just now, Saloyan could guarantee that if he pulled a random person from the Rivervale Town Adventurers' Association and placed them in Xia Nan's position, ninety-five percent of them would have chosen to bypass the Barbed Devil and attack him first, executing a so-called "decapitation strike."

And if the man had actually done that, he would have fallen right into Saloyan's carefully laid trap.

The pre-prepared [Hold Person], cast at an unavoidable close range, along with follow-up measures in case he resisted, would have formed a hunter's cage. The pursuing Barbed Devil could then have effortlessly lopped off the paralyzed target's head.

Yet, relying purely on intuition, Xia Nan defied common sense and attacked the Barbed Devil directly in front of him, rendering the trap useless.

Moving at high speeds while enveloped by the phantom of a black wolf, his body became incredibly difficult for support spells to lock onto in the short term. It wasn't until the final clash, when both sides were caught in a rigid stalemate, that Saloyan found an opening to manipulate the Purgatory flames and inflict the final blow.

Ultimately, Xia Nan was still just a low-level Class Holder; reaching this point was already his limit. If things had developed differently and he had gained a few more levels... Saloyan might actually have found him quite difficult to deal with.

Hum—

Disordered magical particles vibrated ceaselessly in the air.

The devil baron carefully sensed his current body.

The massive influx of Purgatory's evil energy over such a short period had instantly ruptured this lowly adventurer's body. Now, he was barely keeping it together through his own power. It could probably last another... thirty minutes?

More than enough time.

His blazing eyes looked forward at the two adventurers struggling to resist the encirclement of devils.

Saloyan's lips parted slightly, and with a flick of his fingers, the magical particles in the air rapidly converged.

...

"Ah!!!"

The furious roar mingled with the shrieks of the devils, sounding utterly futile and powerless.

The successive deaths of his teammates had driven Thordin nearly mad. This dwarf, whose heart was as stout as his build and who treated his companions as true friends, was pushed to the brink.

His wide, staring eyes were bloodshot. Completely ignoring his scorched beard braids dangling over his chest, he unleashed a combat technique that coated his entire body in a metallic luster, roaring madly as he swung his Faceted Hammer at the two Spined Devils beside him.

As the team's frontline meat shield, his primary role was to defend and draw the enemy's aggro, so his offensive capabilities were naturally limited.

Because of this, when faced with these two Challenge Rating 2 Spined Devils, he was unable to break the stalemate. Instead, he was continuously kited back and forth as they flapped their wings to maintain their distance.

Before long, several bone-deep gashes appeared on his arms, shoulders, and back where his armor failed to cover. Blood drenched his entire body.

Excessive blood loss caused his stamina to plummet, and the frequency and power behind his roars and hammer swings gradually dwindled.

It was entirely predictable that if things continued like this... Thordin's death was a foregone conclusion.

"Damn it!"

"Thordin, calm down!!!"

Not far away, Margaret, the captain of the Oathkeeper Blackwood Squad, was faring much better than him.

At the very least, she had no obvious wounds on her body, and the expression on her face was much calmer.

Naturally, this wasn't because she felt nothing for her fallen teammates. The Rogue, Goldensand, had worked with her for years; they were veterans who could rely on one another and cover each other's backs in battle. As for Joshua, Margaret had personally negotiated with his family to bring him out of the big city. She had placed tremendous hope in him to play a massive role as a Spellcaster in the future, making him the key to the Oathkeeper Blackwood Squad's advancement to the next level.

Losing two such teammates in what had seemed like an ordinary investigation mission was an incredibly heavy blow, both on a personal level and for the team as a whole.

As the captain, Margaret was arguably the most devastated person on the battlefield.

But with formidable enemies right in front of her and the battle far from over, her inherent character and professional discipline absolutely refused to let her show any signs of weakness at a time like this.

Instead, she focused entirely on the fight, attempting to use the strength she had relied upon for so many years to lead this shattered squad out of its predicament.

She was a Level 4 [Swordsman], true. In terms of sheer combat capability, the unique features of her class even placed her a cut above most adventurers at the same level.

But the enemies Margaret had to face right now were four Challenge Rating 1 Imps (the one that killed Joshua had also joined the encirclement).

If she fought them one-on-one, taking them on one after another, she was confident she could easily dispatch them all without suffering a single scratch.

But the reality was that she was facing the simultaneous assault of four Imps.

This meant Margaret had to be wary of attacks coming from four different directions all at once. If she overextended her movements even slightly in an attempt to deal significant damage to a single enemy, a pitchfork would thrust out from some blind spot and stab into her body.

Given the intensity of the current battle, if she were to suffer an injury severe enough to affect her mobility, it would become the breach that shattered the balance, leading to her utter defeat.

'I can't keep going like this!'

In her ears, the dwarf's furious roars were growing weaker, and her temporary ally in the distance had already perished alongside the powerful Barbed Devil. The situation on the battlefield was deteriorating rapidly.

Margaret gritted her teeth, a look of absolute resolve flashing through her eyes.

Her longsword, which had been swinging in a continuous blur around her to block attacks from all sides, suddenly stopped, drawn back slightly to her side to gather power.

In that brief opening, a pitchfork exploited the gap, scraping past her flank and leaving a deep, bloody gash.

The next second, a sharp sword light violently erupted, transforming into a 270-degree arc of blinding steel that forced back the Imps trying to seize the opportunity to close in.

It was fleeting.

By the time the sword light dissipated, Margaret was no longer standing in her original spot. She had successfully broken out of the devils' encirclement, retreating dozens of meters away.

—[Circular Slash Spin].

It was one of the combat techniques she had mastered. The effect allowed her to deliver a powerful strike while simultaneously granting her body a momentary burst of speed to retreat and distance herself.

It was typically used for tactical retreats or breaking out of an encirclement.

By using it now, Margaret naturally had no intention of running away.

She only wanted to temporarily widen the gap between herself and the Imps to buy enough charging time for her strongest combat technique, [Charged Slash].

Hum—

Condensed, sharp light rapidly gathered on the surface of her blade. Her gaze was composed, staring dead ahead at the four Imps shrieking as they charged toward her.

In her mind, she calculated the charge level of her combat technique against the flight speed of the devils.

'It'll work!'

Just a few breaths of time were enough to complete the preliminary preparations for [Charged Slash]. As long as she could swing this sword, out of the four Imps, at least...

Halfway through her thoughts, a sudden, piercing screech unique to electrical currents, mingled with blinding lightning, tore through the air from a distance far behind the Imps.

'That is...'

—0th Circle Cantrip, Evocation School: Lightning Lure

Having kept a close eye on the battlefield, how could Saloyan possibly allow the swordswoman to break the stalemate?

The glow of magical particles crackled in the air at the most opportune moment.

Unlike the [Lightning Bolt] that had severely injured Xia Nan earlier, [Lightning Lure] was merely the most common and ordinary of cantrips, significantly weaker in sheer destructive power.

But in the hands of a devil noble like Saloyan, it still unleashed an exceptional effect far exceeding its tier.

"Zzzt!"

The lightning burst!

A materialized bolt of lightning, like a long whip, snaked through the gaps between the Imps at a speed far beyond normal human reaction time and struck Margaret's body.

A numbing, stinging pain instantly spread across her entire body. The cold light pooled on the surface of her blade subsequently shattered, and her [Charged Slash] was interrupted.

That wasn't the end of it.

The electrical beam that interrupted the swordswoman's charging didn't dissipate. Instead, Saloyan, who was tethered to the end of the lightning from afar, simply flicked his finger.

Margaret felt as if she were bound by a chain made of lightning, yanked forcefully and dragged toward the Imps at high speed.

Her pupils contracted sharply, and her legs, braced against the ground, gouged two deep trenches through the soil.

But it was futile.

"Squelch."

The dull sound of tearing flesh echoed faintly through the nest once more.

Four pitchforks from the Imps plunged into Margaret's right thigh, lower abdomen, left forearm, and right shoulder, respectively.

The good news was that, in the face of the rapid pull of [Lightning Lure], the Imps flying straight at her only had enough time to raise their pitchforks. They failed to hit any vitals, sparing Margaret from instant death.

The bad news was that, under the current circumstances, suffering such injuries... wasn't much different from being struck in a vital spot and dying outright.

Beside her, witnessing his captain's plight, Thordin—growing ever more exhausted under the Spined Devils' siege—roared like a madman. He swung his Faceted Hammer wildly, seemingly desperate to rush over and support her.

But it was precisely this desperation that gave the Spined Devil kiting him from behind an opportunity.

With a sweep of its tail, a bone spine reflecting the firelight shot through the air. It instantly pierced the dwarf's skin, which flickered with a dim metallic luster, driving through his back and erupting out his chest.

Letting out a pained, whimpering groan, Thordin was dragged by the momentum of the bone spine. He stumbled two steps and crashed to the ground.

Blood gushed freely from his wound. His breathing grew faint; he had completely lost the ability to fight.

In just a dozen short seconds, Margaret's last teammate fell amidst the shrieking laughter of the devils.

She felt agony.

It wasn't just physical pain. Having her flesh pierced was nothing; in her dozen years as an adventurer, she had experienced far worse injuries.

What truly shattered this valiant swordswoman's composure, causing the longsword she had gripped so tightly to slip and fall to the ground, was the sight of the Rogue Goldensand in the magic circle—already sacrificed as an offering, leaving behind nothing but a few charred shreds of clothing. It was the sight of the Spellcaster Joshua, who had been dead for quite some time, his pupils congealed into an ashen gray. And it was the sight of the dwarf Thordin, struggling on the ground, unable to ever stand again due to his grievous wounds.

It was the Oathkeeper Blackwood Squad itself, about to vanish completely into the depths of the earth, never to exist again.

Even today, Margaret still remembered the words her father had spoken to her, coughing up blood while critically wounded and dying in a similarly dim underground nest all those years ago.

He wished for her to survive. To be a merchant, a guard, or even just stay at home and do nothing. Anything was fine... as long as she lived her life as someone other than an adventurer.

At that time, she had nodded and promised.

But after he died, she broke that oath.

She couldn't bear to let her father's lifelong dedication fade away, nor was she willing to erase the anchor of her entire spirit and will, the squad that had accompanied her for the first half of her life.

And so, Margaret inherited the squad name of "Oathkeeper Blackwood."

Until today. Until now.

Everything—her team, her companions, and even herself—would ultimately end up like the vast majority of adventurers on this continent...

Succumbing to destiny.

For the first time, after all her teammates had fallen, and with her body severely wounded, leaving absolutely no chance of turning the tables...

...a look of sheer despair appeared on Margaret's face.

She slowly closed her eyes, waiting for death to descend.

Her closed eyelids let darkness swallow the world before her. Her dissipating focus blurred even the surrounding shrieks, gradually leaving nothing but dead silence.

Yet, the fleeting pain she had imagined never arrived.

Hum—

Taking its place was the scorching heat of fresh blood splattering against her cheek, the abrupt halt of the devils' shrill laughter, and a blistering hot wind sweeping past her front.

In a daze, Margaret opened her eyes.

What met her sight was an ember, sparked from the corner of a coat, quietly drifting down.

Alongside the headless corpses of four devils.