Return of the Fallen Nobleman With an SSS-Rank Talent-Chapter 48: The danger was not yet over

With multiple magic circles spinning behind him, Alaric precisely regulated the flow of mana feeding his diagram. Each thread of energy was carefully measured; wasting power against an enemy like this would be suicidal.

He knew full well that this would be a battle of attrition. The absurd regeneration of the rank IV silver trolls turned them into living walls.

But that didn’t matter.

The important thing was that he had caught his attention.

As long as he kept him busy, the knights could clear the battlefield of rank I and II monsters, creatures that did not possess that cursed ability to regenerate.

Rising barely an inch above the ground, Alaric adjusted his white robe, now splattered with rain, and lunged at the enormous silver troll with a speed uncharacteristic of a conventional mage.

In a matter of seconds, he was within range of the monster.

The troll responded immediately, swinging a stone club that whistled through the air with violent friction. Alaric accelerated forward and dodged it by just a few inches.

The wind cut his cheek.

He didn’t stop.

With a precise gesture of his hand, he muttered:

"[Wind Spears x5]."

The magic circles glowed brightly, and five invisible projectiles shot out, tearing through the air with a sharp whine. They struck the troll’s legs directly, piercing flesh and tendons.

The creature roared in pain... but the wound began to close almost instantly.

The troll responded with fury, unleashing a flurry of blows with its club. Alaric barely had time to see the mass of stone descending upon him.

He hardened his expression.

He extended both hands forward.

"[Wind Shield.]"

A translucent barrier materialized just before impact.

The first blow shook it violently.

The second cracked it.

The third caused the air to explode in a shockwave that threw Alaric several meters backward, sliding him across the soggy ground.

He managed to stabilize himself in the air before falling.

...But the troll’s silver leg descended inches from his face.

Alaric muttered a hasty spell, and his body shot backward in a gust of wind, dodging the kick by just a second. The impact against the ground kicked up a cloud of dust where he had been standing.

If he had been a moment later, his head would have been pulverized.

"I can’t go on like this..."

He struggled to his feet and fixed his gaze on the silver troll. Behind him, magic circles began to form again, spinning with a high-pitched hum as he ran straight at the creature.

"[Wind Arrows x20]."

The arrows shot out of the circles with violence, whistling at high speed. They flew past Alaric as he advanced without slowing down.

The projectiles struck the troll’s torso, tearing flesh and ripping off fragments of hardened skin.

But it wasn’t enough.

Regeneration was already beginning to close the wounds.

Alaric forced more mana into his magic circles.

"[Wind Hammer]."

The spell materialized in an instant: a compressed mass of spinning air that descended with brutal force. With a sharp movement of his arm, the impact crashed into one of the troll’s legs.

The bone shattered.

The limb snapped with a wet, unpleasant sound, and the monster lost its balance, falling heavily to the ground.

Alaric didn’t hesitate.

He leaped forward, determined to finish it off before the damn regeneration did its job. He landed next to the troll’s body and brought both hands together on its forehead.

A huge magic circle appeared beneath his feet.

The remaining mana began to drain away suddenly.

"[Hollow Scythe]."

The air turned cold.

A hooded figure materialized behind him, formed of shadows and spectral energy. In its hands, a gigantic scythe took shape.

With a single downward swing, the blade sliced through the silver troll’s neck.

The head rolled away.

The body lay motionless.

The regeneration stopped.

Silence returned... and Alaric fell to his knees, gasping for breath, without a single drop of mana left.

He had already done his job, although he hadn’t expected to defeat a rank IV monster so quickly.

He stood up with superhuman effort and began to move; he had to continue providing support.

The danger was not yet over.

...

On the northern front, Lucas’ battle against the two rank III monsters was coming to an end.

But victory had not come without a price.

His body was a field of ruins.

Each breath brought a sharp pain in his chest. He felt something crunch inside him every time he moved, as if his own bones were protesting. His muscles trembled uncontrollably, torn beyond what he should have been able to endure.

Warm blood ran down his sides, soaking his armor and falling in heavy drops that darkened the earth beneath his boots.

Even so, he did not retreat.

Before him stood one of the rank III lightning wolves. The beast snorted furiously, its back torn open by deep cuts. Blue vapor escaped from its jaws along with the metallic smell of its own blood.

Their eyes met.

Both knew that the next exchange would decide everything.

Lucas exhaled slowly.

His posture was open, worn, full of flaws that any swordsman would notice. His muscles burned, and the Hymn barely held his body up.

But his eyes did not waver.

He gathered the last remnants of mana left in his core.

He pushed it toward the sword.

And he charged.

The wolf roared at the same time and lunged with all its might. Lucas barely noticed the blue flash before the world was reduced to a burst of sound and electricity.

The collision was absolute.

He felt claws tear through his armor.

He felt steel sink in.

He felt thunder explode in his ears.

And in the midst of that collision...

A golden light pierced his vision.

He didn’t know if it came from the Hymn... or from his own sword.

But he pushed.

With everything he had left.

The wolf’s roar broke into a muffled sound.

The weight in front of him gave way.

The beast’s body trembled... and fell.

Lucas remained standing for a few more seconds.

He leaned on his sword, breathing heavily, feeling his vision fade by the second, but he stood firm.

He stood up straight and raised his sword as a symbol of victory; being a high-ranking knight, he had defeated two rank III monsters all by himself.

Lucas, with his last ounce of strength, looked directly at the lightning wolf that had finally decided to move.