Episode 190: Death Knight (2)
Magic and dark magic are fundamentally different forces.
Their nature and methods of use are so distinct that they inevitably diverge in every aspect.
Being adept at handling dark magic didn’t mean one could master regular magic as well.
This was precisely why Damian had to start from scratch.
He had reached the pinnacle only as a Death Knight, a dark knight. He knew nothing about wielding magic.
Thus, after his return, Damian dedicated himself to acquiring new knowledge, conducting research, and honing his skills.
He aimed to reach the peak not as a dark knight, but as an ordinary knight.
He could have easily regained power by choosing dark magic, but he refrained.
He wanted to forget the past and despised the corrupting force of dark magic.
Yet, in this moment, Damian chose dark magic once more.
He embraced this dreadful, repulsive, yet familiar power, casting off the shackles he had placed on himself, if only temporarily.
As dark magic coursed through him, a surge of strength welled up from deep within. His senses expanded and spread wide.
Master Class.
A realm of transcendence that every knight aspired to reach.
Yet, only a rare few, chosen by the heavens, could barely attain it.
Damian ascended to that realm with ease. No, “ascended” wasn’t quite right.
He reclaimed it.
By wielding dark magic, he momentarily summoned his past prowess.
“It’s been a while since I felt this.”
Technically, Damian couldn’t be considered a true Master Class right now.
While his skills matched that level, his body remained at the High Class stage.
But what did it matter?
The opponent he needed to crush was nothing more than a bug crawling on the ground.
“Wingstone.”
Damian turned his gaze to Wingstone.
Unlike before, Wingstone’s face was now as pale as a ghost.
“Let’s finish this.”
With those words, Damian slowly raised his hand.
What was happening?
Wingstone had never thought much of Damian.
Even if he was a dark sorcerer, Wingstone was a Master Class. There was nothing to fear from a dark sorcerer who hadn’t perfected his craft.
To Wingstone, this wasn’t a battle. It was merely an execution to appease Sukle’s heart.
But the moment Damian absorbed the dark magic and spread it throughout his body, everything changed.
Something overwhelming emanated from Damian.
Was it his aura? His presence? His killing intent? His pressure?
It was impossible to pinpoint. Something massive exploded and filled the world.
“You, you… what is this…?”
Then, Damian’s gaze fell upon Wingstone.
His eyes were devoid of any emotion, just indifferent.
Yet, meeting those eyes made Wingstone’s entire body tremble uncontrollably.
He thought he should stop, but his body wouldn’t obey. No matter how he commanded it, it refused.
Not only did his body shake, but his head slowly bowed.
He was too afraid to even look, wanting to keep Damian out of his sight as much as possible.
“Hah… hah…”
His breathing grew labored, and with each breath, he felt his insides quiver. The intense fear made bile rise in his throat.
“Do you think reaching Master Class makes you the strongest? Of course not. The world is vast, and there are many strong ones.”
In that moment, Wingstone recalled words from his master.
“The higher a knight’s rank, the greater the internal disparity. The gap between the weakest and strongest in Low Class is much smaller than in High Class.”
His master had once spoken to him about Master Class during his training.
“At the Master Class level, the disparity becomes enormous. Even among Master Classes, a mid-tier can easily kill a lower-tier.”
His master was not only a Master Class but also a person of vast experience. He knew many things that Wingstone didn’t.
“Reaching Master Class isn’t the end. There’s a higher realm. Never heard of it? That’s natural.”
Wingstone hadn’t taken his master’s words seriously.
“Only a handful reach Master Class, and among them, those who reach the next level… appear maybe once in a hundred years.”
Even Master Class was an incredible achievement. And there was a realm beyond that?
“How can you recognize such a strong one? That’s a needless worry.”
Even as an adult, Wingstone hadn’t taken his master’s words seriously.
“When you meet one, you’ll know. Even if you don’t, your body and soul will.”
In this moment, Wingstone understood his master’s words perfectly.
Without crossing swords, Wingstone’s body and soul had completely submitted to Damian.
Then, Damian slowly raised his hand.
He held nothing. He didn’t even clench his fist.
Yet the fear Wingstone felt multiplied. Every hair on his body stood on end.
Damian slowly extended his index finger. Then, he began to lower it.
I’m going to die.
Wingstone instinctively knew. The moment that finger pointed at him, he would lose his life.
It felt as if Death itself was holding a scythe to his throat. He couldn’t even think of escaping.
“Ah…”
Wingstone stood there, mouth agape, awaiting his impending death.
Then, Damian’s finger halted in mid-air. He clicked his tongue, staring into the void.
“Of all times, you had to arrive now.”
No sooner had Damian spoken than a fierce wind swept in.
It was too sudden to be natural. So strong that even the clouds in the sky were pushed aside.
The wind gathered over the desolate field, forming a tempest.
“Phew, looks like I made it just in time.”
As the wind dispersed, a figure emerged. Wingstone stared at the man, bewildered.
A massive frame like a bear.
Thick cloth garments covering his entire body.
Two greatswords strapped to his back.
“A… paladin?”
Wingstone muttered without realizing it. The paladin shouted in satisfaction.
“You recognized me correctly! I am the first disciple of the Five Saints of Green Wind, the Master Class of the Bound Wind!”
The paladin puffed out his chest and declared loudly.
“I am the Iron Man, Perpetuo!”
With the paladin’s arrival, Damian couldn’t help but click his tongue inwardly.
“If you were coming, you should’ve arrived sooner.”
Had he done so, there would’ve been no need to resort to dark magic to resolve the situation.
“More importantly… Perpetuo?”
He had been curious about who the church would send. It turned out to be a significant figure.
Perpetuo was one of the Master Classes representing the church during the War of Destruction.
Whenever the enemy sent out a strong warrior, the church would dispatch him first.
“Though he hasn’t reached that level now… he’s still formidable.”
Damian, having temporarily regained the strength of a Master Class, could accurately gauge Perpetuo’s prowess.
“Hmm, hmmm.”
Perpetuo furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the two of them.
“Which one of you is the master of Hedoniac?”
At Perpetuo’s question, Damian immediately pointed to Wingstone.
“That one. You see the woman next to him? She’s with him.”
“Hmm? Now that you mention it, there is a woman. A man who’s a Master Class and a woman who’s a dark sorcerer… definitely Hedoniac!”
Perpetuo nodded repeatedly.
“But who are you? I hadn’t heard of another Master Class being here.”
Despite the unexpected turn of events, Damian remained unfazed.
“Victor.”
He had prepared a mask for such situations.
“Victor? That sounds familiar… hmm… hmmm…”
After pondering for a while, Perpetuo snapped his fingers.
“Ah! Now I remember! The dark sorcerer who attacked the church branch in the Mandarin Kingdom and then vanished! The Woodcutter Victor!”
Perpetuo then looked puzzled again.
“But you’re not a dark sorcerer; you’re a Master Class?”
To avoid any misunderstandings, Damian opened his palm, conjuring dark flames.
Seeing the black fire dance on Damian’s hand, Perpetuo nodded.
“My mistake. You are a dark sorcerer. But why were you fighting Hedoniac?”
“It just happened.”
“It just happened?”
Damian’s original plan was to stall until the church arrived and then make his escape.
He hadn’t prepared an excuse. There was no need.
“Perpetuo, as you can see, I’m fighting against Hedoniac.”
“That’s how it seems.”
“Right. I have no intention of opposing the Holy Church.”
“Hmm, that explains why I didn’t sense any hostility.”
“So, I’ll be leaving. You can handle Hedoniac.”
With that, Damian prepared to depart.
But Perpetuo shook his head, as if to say it wasn’t that simple.
“That won’t do.”
Perpetuo swung his massive sword at Demian with all his might.
The blade of wind raced across the ground and struck Demian with force.
Demian swiftly countered, slicing through the wind with a flick of his wrist. He glared at Perpetuo and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think?” Perpetuo retorted, raising his twin swords high. “Come at me, you filthy heretics! I’ll take both your heads right here and now!”