Chapter 42 – Duel

Concentrating on his attacks, the young mage’s expression, which changed when he heard the name of his master, did not go unnoticed by Nafız.

“As far as I understand, two students are currently struggling to pass an exam their master has taken. I promise you, if you can kill my disciple, I will spare your life and have you return to the master!”

Alyon, astonished like everyone else after Nafız’s words, immediately came to him and objected to her decision.

‘Don’t do that! For the sake of your ego, you can’t throw away all the plans we’ve made!”

“Back on, big boy, how quickly you decided that Sangre was going to fail!”

Hearing Nafız’s words, Sangre understood his master’s purpose and started to fight with all his might not to prove her wrong. He was closing the distance between him and Adhemar with quick steps while directing the arrows he had shot from his quiver rapidly towards his enemy.

“What a stupid archer! Instead of keeping the distance by running away, he tries to come closer to me.”

Delighted by his opponent’s unexpected combat style, Adhemar spawned his long-range attacks, allowing his enemy’s movements. Once within a certain distance, the mage, planning to launch an attack on the archer’s area, would feel a pang in his heart when he saw the six throwing blades coming at him from all directions.

Adhemar, who did not think that the orc in front of him could have such a weapon, allowed him to come near, and after the attack, he slammed his staff on the ground, muttering a few incantations. One breath before the blades could reach him, the mage who wrapped his body with a light shield had succeeded in blocking the attacks.

Creating a vortex of flame by swinging his wand, the young mage attacked his enemy, the magic shield surrounding him moving with him. He could bounce the special arrows given by Nafız; while turning regular arrows on the shield, which rose in the shape of a bell and merged above his head, to ashes.

“It was a perfect plan to pretend to be unaware of his weakness and ambush his opponent.”

Nafız was criticizing the situation with Alyon as the surprise attack didn’t work, and the war was still fifty paces away.

“The mage’s defensive ability is indeed very effective, but as far as I can see, it takes a lot of soul power to sustain it. What I’m wondering is, will Sangre continue a war of attrition, or will he try to take advantage of the vulnerability you’ve noticed!”

Chief Alyon spoke as if the orc warrior was in control of the battle, suppressing his archer opponent with giant flame whips from his mage’s wand. Even though ordinary eyes watching the fight thought he had the upper hand, the truth was Adhemar was desperately attacking to kill his opponent before his waning magic power was exhausted.

Having lost his kinetic vision due to his attacks and arrows landing on the protective shield around him, the mage had already lost consciousness of his distance from his enemy. By launching multiple arrows, Sangre revealed his will to bring the war to an end by introducing throwing knives, while the glowing light shield’s color faded as time went on.

Convinced that it would not end well for him if he continued using the chase-and-bucket tactic, the young mage trusted the protection of the light shield and began to speak the incantations. He was trying hard not to take his eyes off Sangre, even as he stood still and prepared his spell.

The blood warrior continued his attacks, sometimes with steel arrows and sometimes with special Blood red arrows, periodically beating the shield’s surface with his blades, taking advantage of the enemy’s immobility.

Even though the orc he was chasing with his eyes didn’t work, his use of steel arrows blocked Adhemar’s field of view, while the sounds of other attacks only made his ears ring. This senseless attacking style wouldn’t be able to get past his shield until his spell was gone, but the young mage was starting to suspect something.

He had ten breaths left to complete his spell as Adhemar, who had been through arduous struggles, questioned what his opponent was aiming at with such shallow attacks, which had drawn him into a trap where he would have to use his magical shield.

Nerves tensed as the time to determine the winner came, and the dose of Sangre’s attacks doubled. The moment the young mage stopped muttering and slowly raised his wand, a black blade shot out of the ground, aiming at his heart, flying towards his chest. Adhemar laughed happily as the blade he had swept slightly to the side cut a deep cut in his shoulder, taking three breaths to release the spell.

The only weakness of the light shield that surrounded it was that it did not cover the bottom of the floor to be used even on the move. Noticing this weakness too late, the mage looked scornfully at his opponent, and when he tried to move his arm to lower his wand, the expression on his face changed dramatically.

Unable to control his limbs, Adhemar stiffened in place as blood from the wound on his shoulder continued to dye his dress. After a short while, most of those who watched the fight could not make sense of what had happened, as the young mage, who had lost control over his power, fell like an empty sack.

“Poison, this is the poison you used on my daughter!”

Chief Alyon, unlike the ignorant orcs around him, saw what was going on and spoke in surprise, looking at Nafız.

“It’s not the same; I had to dilute it a bit because I didn’t want to kill your daughter. The poison in Sangre’s blade is ten times more potent than the one I used that day.”

With his enemy lying on the ground, Sangre stretched his bow and called to Adhemar.

“I won’t forget your name, don’t be ashamed for being a stepping stone to help me rise!”

The battle’s outcome was declared when the arrow that hit Adhemar’s head unhindered exploded its target like a watermelon. Although many unforeseen events had occurred on the chaotic battlefield, the orc tribe Nikonia had captured and routed most of their forces.

” War is over! Supply squad to work!”

At Alyon’s call, hundreds of orcs stormed the battlefield from the rear of the front. Wounded warriors were taken to healers for treatment, derelict munitions were collected, and the dead piled up. On orders, the requisite orcs buried the dead in the great pits they dug, hoping that the bodies of these brave men would give life to the barren lands.

As Nafız and Alyon made their way to the area where the chief’s tent was, the warrior orcs of Butcher Haydo bowed before them along the way. Pigtail, Sangre, Brutal Wall, and Kuyag followed the duo a few steps behind, watching the sight proudly before them.

Seeing that the Red Bear’s corpse greeted them when they came to the front of the tent, Alyon kicked the dead body lying on the ground.

“Take this degenerate’s filthy body to the place where traitors like him are found!”

Alyon, who did not enter the tent until he saw a few quartermaster orcs dump Red Bear’s corpse beside the war fugitives, turned and called out to the orcs that followed.

“All of you, except Nafız, will wait outside until further notice. Human prisoners will never be mistreated. When the moon rises to the top, I want the whole tribe to gather around the traitors.”

”Yes, sir!”

After the group leaving to carry out the orders, Alyon stepped into the tent with big strides. As he carefully scanned the inside of the tent, his eyes gleamed with the joy of finding what he was looking for.

“I’m putting this next to the other one too!”

Alyon calmed down and sat on the empty throne when his precious Nafız was taken into space in her ring. He posed, placing both hands firmly on the side armrests and leaning his back against the high back.

“The wing will be bigger in the catching bird; how well it suits sitting on the throne in a c***!”

Nafız, who satirically touched her friend’s running to the throne, started to wait for the night to fall by lying down in the fur that was thrown on top of each other.

—————————————————————————————————————–

There is no such thing as cheating! It’s just a little overconfidence. And it’s not the person that he is deceived, but the one he trusts most.

Maxim Gorky


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