Chapter 582

The surroundings were as bright as broad daylight.

Every detail was clear—the blood-soaked, sprawled-out Barsabe; the puppet masters with their greedy faces gathered around her; even Rutherford, who was backing away in fear.

Was he the only one left? The magic swordsmen drew their blades, while the Luswena mages retreated cautiously, just like before, intending to observe rather than waste energy on a needless fight.

Slash!

But as Jarrett, Hale, and Nakina soared up from below the cliff, the Luswena mages’ expressions twisted in dismay.

These had to be Bariel’s mages. Those relentless bastards who never stopped chasing them, even at night. Their presence here meant that Ian Hielo, their commander, could arrive at any moment.

“Barsabe!”

“Nakina, protect her. I’m going to channel magic into Barsabe.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jarrett’s white shirt was instantly stained red and black as he embraced Barsabe. Was she dead? Was she even breathing? Jarrett pressed his ear to her face, straining to catch any sign of breath. But it was so faint, so fragile, that no sound came through.

Was it drowned out by the wind? It had to be. Not that she wasn’t breathing, but that her breath was swallowed by the noise.

“Captain Jarrett, please step aside for a moment.”

Ziiing… Ziiing…

Without hesitation, Hale grasped Barsabe’s hand and poured magic into her. Her hand was icy cold—like clutching a corpse. Yet he kept his composure, focusing on channeling the energy.

“I asked you, damn it! What did you do to Eokmi?”

“Eek! W-we don’t know anything!”

“Lord Rutherford, p-please do something!”

“Two mages, two magic swordsmen,” Beric observed sharply.

“The rough ones on the left are the swordsmen, and those standing aloof behind on the right are Luswena mages.”

And between them, an instinctively foul aura. Beric pointed his sword at him and muttered, “Damn it, you’re Rutherford.”

Long, tangled hair, bronze skin, and a face that made you want to glare. Beric rolled up his sleeves and grinned.

“I’ve heard your name so much it’s burned into my ears, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen you. Nice to meet you. Honestly, I’ve been wanting to see you.”

“I don’t know who you are.”

“Beric. Ian’s friend.”

“Oh, Ian Hielo?”

“Thanks to you, damn it! I’ve been busting my ass for ten years!”

Whoosh!

Beric pushed off with his toes and charged forward, flames erupting around him.

Sensing the threat, the magic swordsmen moved to block him, flanking Rutherford.

“We lost a lot of our own!”

“Block him! Right side!”

“Gah! This bastard… why is he so fast?”

“I’ve been through hell since I left home! I was just pissed I never got to see your face, but today, I’m settling the score!”

“Help! Somebody help!”

“Just wait! I’m gonna cut you down clean!”

Chaaang! Ching!

Beric sliced through the swordsman blocking his path with ease. The bandages wrapped around his waist looked decorative, but the wounds beneath seemed severe—yet his strength was astonishing.

The Luswena mages nodded and unleashed the last of their magic, joining the fight.

“Luswena! We didn’t finish this during the day, did we?!”

Whoosh!

A whip-shaped magic projectile flew toward Beric’s back, but Nakina lightly deflected it, shielding him.

The situation was turning dire. The puppet masters began retreating, slowly at first, then breaking into a run across the vast land. The magic swordsmen and mages were buying time, hoping to slip away down the cliff.

“Run! Run! Escape!”

“The cliff below is cracking!”

“Ugh! Damn it. I didn’t want to come out here.”

Fear gripped the puppet masters’ minds, and their only goal was clear: survive and return to Torolun alive.

But then—

A blinding flash tore through the sky, and a massive beam of light struck down before them.

Kaboom!

Crackle! Crackle!

Lightning from a clear sky.

The puppet masters spun around in terror, only to find Jarrett, sweating cold sweat, breathing heavily, glaring at them.

“Is that old man a magic swordsman too?”

“He looks the worst off.”

“Can’t we do something?”

“If you step up, I’ll help.”

“No, if you step up, I’ll help!”

“Shut up!”

The puppet masters jabbered nervously, pushing each other, until Jarrett’s thunderous roar cut through the chaos. He kept glancing at the battered Barsabe, barely hiding the fury in his voice.

“Confess what you did to Barsabe. If you don’t, next time I’ll split your heads in two.”

It was horrifying. Losing comrades was painful, but at least they died honorably in battle.

Barsabe’s condition was far from honorable—she was drenched in humiliation and disgrace. Jarrett couldn’t bear to see his subordinate and close friend’s daughter meet such a fate.

“Lord Rutherford!”

The puppet masters rolled their eyes and ran back toward Rutherford, as if to say, “You called the shots, so handle this.”

But the magic swordsmen and mages were too busy holding off Beric and Nakina, and Rutherford just stood there, dazed.

“Lord Rutherford!”

The cries echoed in his mind, twisting his stomach like he’d swallowed saltwater, blood rushing to his head.

Clutching his pounding heart, Rutherford called upon the gods. Like he had in the abyss, he begged silently for salvation—but no words escaped his lips.

“You bastard!”

In an instant, Beric clenched his teeth and charged at Rutherford, who raised his hands and reflexively summoned Idgal.

Shraaak!

Sharp, jagged crystals shot out, grazing Beric’s earlobe. Blood trickled down, and Beric felt his energy drain through the tiny wound.

Beric clutched his injured ear, startled for a moment—

But Rutherford, lost in a daze, kept summoning Idgal and attacking. His flowing robes swayed softly, but his eyes were empty.

“Beric! Watch out! I’ve been hit by that before!”

Nakina shouted, realizing the danger, but even she froze, puzzled by Rutherford’s vacant expression.

It was as if his soul had been ripped out, and his body was moving on instinct alone—a hollow shell struggling to survive.

Beric clicked his tongue in annoyance, while Rutherford remained disconnected, his mind slipping further into confusion.

“Pretender, huh.”

Ian’s doing, no doubt.

Beric sheathed his fading magic and drew his sword from his waist. Cutting through that was easy enough with just a blade.

“What did you say?”

Rutherford frowned at Beric’s whisper.

Pretender? Me? What?

If anyone was the fake, it was Ian—wearing the green-eyed shell over his real blue eyes. So who was calling whom a fake?

“Then take this and see for yourself whether I’m the real deal or not.”

Chaaang! Ching!

Rutherford’s eyes flashed as he continued summoning Idgal from his fingertips. The crystals swarmed like a cloud of flies—annoying but not deadly. Beric glared at him with growing irritation.

Clang!

Their blades clashed as they closed in. Beric spat in Rutherford’s face—a blatant display of disgust.

“…!”

Rutherford was surprisingly calm but clearly provoked. His anger flared, and he summoned even larger Idgal crystals.

“What? Feeling bad?”

“…I swear on my life, I’ll tear you apart and throw you off the cliff.”

“You sure talk a lot about running away. Acting all noble, huh? You swore, right? Well, I’ll make one too.”

Clang!

Beric’s red eyes sparkled with amusement. The more their blades met, the more blood flowed, fueling his excitement. And the fact that his opponent was Rutherford…

He would capture this bastard alive and hand him over to Ian. That would fill the emptiness he’d felt for the past ten years, even if just a little.

“I’ll make you kneel before Ian.”

The humiliation Ian had suffered in front of the mages.

“Let’s make this count, yeah? If you fail, you’ll pay with your life.”

It wasn’t enough to just repay him—he’d make him suffer tenfold. That’s how the world worked, after all.

Rutherford’s eyes trembled, but a faint smile crept onto his lips.

‘If I die, so be it.’

A curse he’d faced hundreds, maybe thousands of times. From Bandor to Rutherford—what difference would dying one more time make?

Even if everything Rutherford had achieved so far posed a threat to Bariel, this wouldn’t be his only chance.

There would be a next time. Another chance.

Desperately, that next time…

—would lead to the cliff.

“…!”

A shiver ran down Rutherford’s spine at the voice ringing in his ear. It was a divine revelation. Once again, God was reaching out to him, offering a way forward.

But before he could dwell on the feeling, Beric’s fist came crashing down.

Wham!

His body tumbled, his mind swimming, but Rutherford planted his hand on the ground and stretched out Idgal like a shield, as if to warn Beric to stay back. At the same time, dark red blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

“I didn’t hit that hard,” Beric said.

“You ignorant fool,” Rutherford spat back.

“Got beaten up by a nobody like you, huh?”

Pfft! Rutherford coughed up blood, laughing as if this was nothing. His white teeth stained red, he looked like some monstrous apparition.

But in that moment, he felt his life force being drained, the cost of conjuring Idgal.

“Oh?”

As Rutherford hesitated and stepped back, Beric’s eyebrows furrowed. What was he trying to do now?

Before anyone could figure it out, Hale, who was in charge of Barsabe, shouted.

“Beric! Stop him!”

“Ah! Okay!”

He was about to leap off the cliff.

It could cost him his life, but right now, it was the only way to shake off their pursuers. Unless one of the Luswena mages resorted to forbidden magic, there was no other choice.

Thud!

“Beric!”

“Crazy bastard!”

Without hesitation, Rutherford threw himself forward, following the divine voice, and Beric immediately followed suit.

Nakina gasped in shock but couldn’t move forward. She was busy holding off the enemy’s swordsmen and mages at once.

Boom!

“What… what was that?”

A massive tremor echoed from deep below.

Nakina crouched low, and the others tensed, holding their breath.

Rumble!

“Damn it, what the hell is that? Captain Jarrett! Captain Hale! What do we do now?”

“Hale, escort Barsabe to Agiar immediately. I’ll handle things here. Please.”

“No, I’m staying too. Nakina, take Barsabe and get him treated right away. There’s barely any uninjured flesh left.”

“Captain!”

“No arguments. I’m your commander.”

Hale’s firm command left no room for debate. Nakina hoisted Barsabe onto her back and took to the air.

Jarrett then pointed toward the cliff below and said to Hale,

“You, who can fly freely, watch the area beneath the cliff. I’ll hold them off.”

“Understood.”

Beric. That damn mutt.

Both men thought the same as they split up. Though the situation was nearly at a standstill, the enemy’s numbers were overwhelming. And Jarrett was still off balance.

But they could handle it.

No, they would handle it.

Ziiing!

Ziiing!

Jarrett drew his lightning sword and wiped the sweat from his jaw. In the distance, the sound of buffalo horns echoed.

Bwooo—

Bwooo—

Bariel’s scouts were approaching. Leading the charge was a man whose gray hair blended perfectly with the shadows—

“Surround them!”

It was Xiaoshi.