Chapter 675 - 562: Forbidden Technique

Chapter 675: Chapter 562: Forbidden Technique

Schmidt leaned against a cold, damp crevice in the reef, his body nearly wedged into a recess in the rock. He was a miserable sight.

He stood in stark contrast to Roland, who, not far away, only had some torn clothes and an aura that remained as steady as ever.

His dark gray High Tower robes were in tatters, covered in mud, seaweed slime, and the dark red, bloody froth he had coughed up himself.

His left shoulder was unnaturally sunken—the result of a direct hit from Roland’s shoulder charge.

At least two of his ribs were clearly broken, and every breath sent a sharp, stabbing pain through him.

His chest was an even worse mess. The front of his robes was soaked in his own blood, and the flesh beneath was a swollen, bruised purple. His internal organs had clearly suffered a severe shock from the terrifying impact.

His face was drained of all color, his lips pale and chapped. The crystal glasses that usually sat on his nose were gone. His light blue eyes had lost their usual sharpness and coldness, leaving only the unfocused gaze of a man gravely injured, desperately clinging to consciousness.

His normally immaculate, iron-gray short hair was plastered messily to his sweaty forehead, and a trickle of blood he hadn’t wiped away still stained the corner of his mouth.

The awe-inspiring, immense fluctuations of Magic Power around him had vanished, leaving only a faint Echo of Magic Power, like a candle flickering in the wind.

It was proof that he hadn’t completely lost his Casting Ability, but he could only maintain his most basic vital signs.

In contrast, the young stranger not far away...

Schmidt’s unfocused gaze struggled to land on the figure in the distance.

Other than some tears in his clothing and a few scorch marks and patches of Frost on his exposed skin, the man’s aura was as unshakable as a mountain.

His inhuman, gilded-gold vertical pupils held only a cold appraisal and the Concentration of a predator sizing up its prey. It was as if the brutal close-quarters combat—enough to grievously injure a Great Mage—had been nothing more than a minor exertion for him.

’What... terrifying Constitution and resistance... and that pure Power and speed...’

Schmidt assessed him with difficulty, every thought tugging at the excruciating pain in his chest.

’In a head-on fight... I’m no match for him. He’s... very strong.’

But immediately after, a wave of indignation mixed with humiliation and cold reason washed over him.

’But... if he hadn’t appeared at such a critical moment, launching a surprise attack in the final instant when I was at full power and about to complete my Magic... If he hadn’t defied all logic and charged straight through the Ice Nova, disrupting all of my subsequent tactical plans...’

’If... if I had enough distance and time to prepare... no matter how strong he is, he wouldn’t have been able to get close so easily! The might of Arcane Magic is not something that can be shaken by mere physical Power!’

This thought was like a shot of adrenaline, allowing Schmidt’s nearly shattered Spirit to cohere just a little.

As an elite of Arcane Magic, he had never experienced such a humiliating defeat. He had been utterly crushed, from Power to tactics, in the most brutal and direct way possible.

The shock of this realization was almost as great as his physical injuries.

He shook his heavy, dizzy, ringing head, forcing himself to stop this useless post-mortem analysis.

Now was not the time to dwell on his failure.

His current goal was clear and cruel.

He had to... from the hands of this unfathomably powerful, ruthless, and decisive young stranger...

Survive, and then escape.

At this thought, he struggled to muster what little Spiritual Power he had left and, as if inspecting a broken tool, quickly scanned his own condition.

’It’s bad...’

’Very bad.’

The few trigger-activated protective Magic Items he wore, including the precious Seed of Star Realm Transition, had either been depleted or completely destroyed while saving his life and during the fall.

His Magic Circuits were in chaos from the magical backlash and his severe injuries. Forcibly casting any slightly complex Magic would likely lead to a more catastrophic collapse.

The most fatal part was...

His opponent was just a short distance away.

With that terrifying speed and combat intuition, at this distance, any Magic that required incantations or Gesture Guidance would be instantly interrupted or he’d be killed before it could be completed.

Conventional methods of combat... were now useless.

The only thing he could rely on now was perhaps verbal maneuvering and negotiation.

Thinking this, Schmidt took a deep breath, trying to suppress the sharp pain in his chest, and spoke in the steadiest, clearest voice he could manage.

"Powerful sir, please, hold on! I think there might be a misunder—"

He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

SWOOSH!

His answer was a sharp whistle tearing through the air.

Roland’s figure shot forward again like an arrow loosed from a bow, his killing intent completely undisguised.

In the dim light, the ghostly purple Short Spike carved a deadly arc, aimed straight for Schmidt’s throat.

There was no hesitation, no intention to communicate—only the purest command to terminate.

Schmidt’s pupils contracted. Gritting his teeth against the intense pain and dizziness, he once again forced himself to cast a Protective Spell.

The Short Spike grazed the side of his neck, leaving a deep gash on the reef and sending sparks flying.

He broke out in a cold sweat, his voice distorted with urgency.

"Wait! Listen to me! The High Tower can pay any price! Knowledge, wealth, Magic Items... just name it!"

Roland’s movements didn’t falter in the slightest. After his first strike missed, his footwork shifted unnervingly.

He closed the distance again like a shadow he couldn’t shake, his left hand forming a claw. It shot toward Schmidt’s uninjured right arm joint with a sharp gust of wind, intending to completely cripple his ability to form signs for casting.

"We can cooperate!"

A rare desperation entered Schmidt’s voice. He desperately cast Magic to dodge, his back slamming hard against the reef.