Chapter 95: A Prepared Magician

Chapter Ninety-Five
A Prepared Magician

When Klein lowered his head again, he could no longer see the strange candle wrapped in what looked like human skin. Yet a faint, slightly sweet fragrance still lingered at the tip of his nose.

Ignoring Bishop Utravsky, who lay fallen in a pool of blood, he took out his matchbox and struck a match with a rasp.

The instant that tiny spark flared, the blood on the ground swiftly vanished, and the chaotic church hall once again became neat and orderly.

The giantlike Utravsky slowly climbed to his feet. Looking down at Klein, his face twisted as he said, “It actually had no effect…

“No wonder you dared accept this commission.

“Unfortunately for you, I did not originally intend to kill you.”

As he spoke, the candle flames on either side of the church swayed visibly. The entire hall suddenly brightened, though the light remained gentle rather than blazing, like dawn breaking in just as night came to an end.

Invisible spirits were rapidly fading away. Klein wasted no words. He dropped the match, puffed his cheeks, and imitated a sound.

“Bang!”

An invisible Air Bullet shot out and slammed heavily into Bishop Utravsky’s chest, producing a crisp, echoing ring. But at some unknown moment, the “Giant” bishop had already been covered head to toe in a suit of silver-white armor: gauntlets, breastplate, crested helmet—everything complete.

At that moment, the silver-white “metal” over his chest was struck with spiderweb-like cracks, yet it did not fully shatter. It was even slowly repairing itself.

“Bang! Bang!”

Klein sounded off again, creating two consecutive Air Bullets that flew one after another toward the enemy’s chest. He intended to rely on repeated impact to break through the defense there completely.

But he saw a heavy, broad greatsword appear in Bishop Utravsky’s hand, as though condensed from light itself. With skillful movements, Utravsky blocked both Air Bullets. The two clanging sounds followed so closely upon one another that they nearly merged into a single note.

Clang!

With only one step forward, Utravsky made the entire church seem to shake. At the same time, his two-handed greatsword came chopping down from above, descending toward Klein with the force of something that could cleave a building apart.

Before the blade even arrived, the wind it stirred nearly made Klein lose his balance.

Terrifying strength!

The thought had just flashed through him when Klein had already leapt sideways with practiced ease, bending at the waist and curling up, preparing to roll along the ground.

Boom!

Utravsky’s two-handed greatsword smashed into the floor, crushing the stone slabs and sending cracks racing outward in every direction.

With a screech, he dragged the greatsword across the ground, changing his downward chop into a horizontal sweep and raising a string of sparks.

This move was precisely designed for opponents who liked rolling!

Klein was about to land when an image instantly appeared inside his mind: himself being struck by the sweeping two-handed sword. He hurriedly flung out an arm, pressed his palm down lightly, and leapt into the air once more.

Whoosh! The gust scattered dust across the ground, while the terrifying greatsword flattened nearby chairs.

Before Klein could counterattack, the “Giant” bishop’s next strike had already followed seamlessly, leaving no pause at all.

One strike. Two strikes. Three… five, six, seven… Utravsky seemed to possess stamina so abundant it bordered on the absurd. His unbroken, storm-like assault continued for dozens of seconds.

Vertical chops, diagonal slashes, horizontal sweeps, straight thrusts, crushing blows—using only the simplest swordsmanship, he displayed what it meant for an attack to be effective and reasonable. And the destructive range of the two-handed greatsword was terrifying.

Klein leapt, rolled, and ran, yet he could not find an opportunity to use his abilities. He appeared battered and endangered, always at the edge of disaster. If he had not thrown matches into different corners of the church beforehand, and if there were not still a few candles burning on both sides of the hall that he could use to “blink,” he might already have been cut down beneath the enemy’s sword.

As expected of a Beyonder profession famous for combat… There is not a single mistake. No weak point at all…

Klein did not fall into panic because of that. While rolling and dodging, he constantly searched for a flaw in the enemy, waiting for the pace of the assault to ease.

At last, he discovered one problem with Utravsky’s swordsmanship.

The two-handed greatsword was too long and too large. In close combat, it had obvious shortcomings!

The thought flashed. Seizing the chance when the greatsword came chopping down vertically, Klein first rolled toward the left front, then pushed off with his palm and rapidly slipped between Utravsky’s legs.

As a “half-giant” more than 2.2 meters tall, Utravsky’s legs were spread fairly far apart even when he merely stood normally. His silver-white codpiece was clearly visible.

The instant Klein rolled there, his left hand had already reached into his pocket. He intended to draw out a long strip of paper, turn it into a hard, sharp cane, and stab upward through the gap beside the enemy’s codpiece—stabbing into the body of that “Giant” bishop!

This would be a fatal strike!

Yet at that moment, his heart tightened. Inside his mind appeared a scene: the greatsword stabbing downward, boundless light erupting into a terrifying storm that swallowed him whole.

A trap! Utravsky’s trap!

Klein did not hesitate. His right hand pressed down, and he leapt forward, passing through the gap between the “Giant” bishop’s legs and arriving behind him.

Just as he made that movement, Utravsky had already gripped the sword hilt with both hands, bent his waist and back, and driven the greatsword straight down into the stone slabs before him.

Amid cracking sounds, patch after patch of dawn-like light spilled from the blade and turned into a hurricane, sweeping through the surroundings.

Silently, the stone slabs where Klein had been disappeared. The earth beneath thinned by nearly ten centimeters. The silver-white armor on Utravsky’s legs and codpiece was also damaged, breaking inch by inch and revealing skin beneath.

His trap was to trade his own injury for his enemy’s annihilation.

At that moment, having leapt behind Bishop Utravsky, Klein finally found a chance to counterattack. While still in midair, he forcibly twisted his body, puffed his cheeks, and imitated the sound of gunfire toward the enemy’s back of the head.

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

The two Air Bullets struck Utravsky’s head in succession. First they cracked the silver-white metal there, then shattered it entirely, exposing an unprotected area.

Klein was just about to follow with a fatal strike when Utravsky suddenly straightened, turned his waist and back, and swept the two-handed greatsword violently behind him.

It was so fast, and the attack so fierce, that Klein seemed unable to avoid it. Yet from his pocket, he drew out a sheet of paper and blocked in front of himself just in time.

Clang!

When the greatsword collided with the paper, it actually produced the sound of metal being struck heavily. The clear, sharp echo shook the ears and filled the entire church.

Klein was sent flying like a tennis ball. The paper in his hand shattered into countless pieces, leaving only one small scrap pinched between his fingers.

Still in midair, he immediately faced Utravsky’s furious, swift, uninterrupted pursuit. The situation was perilous.

But he did not panic in the slightest. He merely flicked his wrist.

The tiny scrap of paper burst into flame. The firelight expanded rapidly, completely enveloping Klein.

Whoosh! The greatsword sliced through the mass of flame, but caused no damage. It only produced a few sparks.

On the right side of the church, the dim-yellow flame of one candle suddenly spread outward, sketching the figure of a man whose face was painted with greasepaint.

Klein reappeared and drew another long strip of paper from his pocket.

Snap!

With a flick of his wrist, the paper became a tough whip, its surface burning with crimson fire.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

From a distance, Klein lashed the whip toward the “Giant” bishop.

But beneath the blocking and attacks of that glowing two-handed greatsword, his weapon quickly broke apart.

And that was precisely Klein’s goal.

Snap, snap, snap! He snapped his fingers repeatedly, causing column after column of flame to surge up from the ground. They blocked Utravsky’s approach and scorched the legs that had lost their armor.

Dawn Armor recovered quite slowly!

Amid the licking flames, Utravsky’s legs were burned with black scorch marks, with red heat crawling upward.

Yet this did not affect the “Giant” bishop’s agility. He suddenly gave a low roar and, like a steam locomotive finally accelerating to its highest speed, rammed through layer after layer of fire with speed, weight, and violence all combined, charging straight before Klein.

His speed was simply unbelievable.

In the next instant, Utravsky’s two-handed greatsword broke apart, turning into sheet after sheet of light that swept outward in every direction.

Almost instantly, Klein fell into a situation of certain death.

The matches he had kept separately on his body ignited with a whoosh, and fierce flames wrapped him completely.

But this was still not as fast as the sweep of the Storm of Light. The crimson had only just begun to appear when it was swallowed whole!

Klein’s body shattered and disintegrated inch by inch. But then those fragments lost their thickness and turned into torn scraps of paper.

Behind Utravsky, a crimson flame rose, and Klein walked out from within it.

He took the matchbox from the other pocket and hurled it toward the enemy, as though planning to ignite all the remaining matches at once and, through the restriction of a narrow space, create some degree of explosion.

And the matchbox was aimed precisely at the lower half of Utravsky’s body, which had lost its protection.

Klein raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

At the same time, Bishop Utravsky leapt backward, bending his knees and drawing his legs up.

Snap!

What accompanied the snap was a matchbox that did not change, a loud bang, and an Air Bullet that accurately tore open the unprotected back of Bishop Utravsky’s head—a lethal strike prepared long in advance.

His skull cracked. Blood and white matter splashed out. Utravsky struggled to turn his head, asking blankly, “You…”

Plop. The matchbox fell onto the floor that the Storm of Light had left pitted and broken, yet it remained unlit.

Klein smiled.

“I never said snapping my fingers could only control flames, and not fire Air Bullets.

“See?”

Snap, snap, snap!

He snapped his fingers again and again, sending one Air Bullet after another into Utravsky’s head. They shattered his helmet and broke open his skull.

Thud!

Utravsky lost all breath and collapsed heavily to the ground, making the church hall tremble slightly.

Snap!

Klein turned and snapped his fingers again.

The matchbox on the ground immediately exploded, transforming into crimson flames that buried Utravsky’s enormous corpse.

Klein did not try sensing the strange candle’s existence. Relying directly on his own wakefulness and rationality, he forcibly walked out of the deepest level of the mind.

Behind him, the corpse was wrapped in crimson, flames burning fiercely, while the world disintegrated inch by inch.