Kael muttered under his breath, never taking his eyes off the headless guardian.
"Are you… cheering for him?"
Yue didn't answer right away.
And that silence said more than words.
It was louder than the clash of steel.
Heavier than the air.
Then she gasped—mock offended.
"Master! How could you accuse me of such betrayal?" she said, hand to her chest like some tragic heroine.
"I am your loyal, mildly disappointed spirit companion."
Kael's eyes narrowed behind the crimson mask.
She was enjoying this.
Of course she was.
He exhaled slowly, tuning her out, letting the world shrink around him.
The chaos around him seemed distant, muffled by the weight of the moment.
He didn't fight with reckless fury.
No wild swings or desperate lunges.
Instead, he moved like a predator—calm, calculating, and cold.
Each strike was precise, aimed not to kill outright but to dismantle.
He watched his opponent closely, reading every twitch, every slight shift in weight.
The headless being fought with relentless force, but Kael was patient.
He let the creature waste its strength—overextending, exposing vulnerable angles.
When the moment came, Kael struck with ruthless efficiency.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
A quick feint, then a sharp cut to the wrist—crippling the sword hand.
The undead staggered, but it did not fall.
Its rotten limbs still moved, driven by something beyond flesh and bone.
Kael's lips curled slightly—not in amusement, but grim acceptance.
This was no ordinary enemy.
And he was no ordinary fighter also.
Around them, the others watched with a mixture of awe and tension.
The clash of sword and bone unfolded like a deadly dance—fluid, precise, but exhausting.
Finally, Elara's voice broke through the silence, sharp and commanding.
"What are you waiting for? Finish that headless thing!"
Her words hung in the air.
The group exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded in grim agreement.
Without hesitation, they formed a circle around Kael and the undead knight, keeping their distance.
The air shimmered as they began weaving spells—arcs of crackling lightning, searing flames, and shards of ice shooting toward the foe.
The headless being roared, staggered under the barrage but fought to stay upright.
In the center, Kael moved with lethal intent.
His strikes grew more ruthless—cutting through rotten armor, exploiting every opening created by the spells.
He was the blade between the storm of magic and the relentless undead.
Kael's breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale sharper than the last.
Blood dripped from his arms and stained his coat—his own and the enemy's.
His muscles screamed in protest, limbs faltering, movements losing their once razor-sharp edge.
The Amplification spell was still active, still feeding strength into his limbs—but it was costing him.
Too much.
His mana burned like dry paper, vanishing with every heartbeat.
But the creature? It did not tire.
Not truly.
Its rotting flesh hung in tatters, torn and shredded, yet it pressed on relentlessly—unyielding, unbroken.
The skull-shielded horror showed no sign of fatigue.
The creature swung again, and Kael caught it, blades screaming against each other.
Just die, you stubborn pile of regrets.
His eyes flicked to the corner of his vision.
Yue stood before the massive dark deity statue, calm and composed.
She seemed to be searching—calculating.
'Maybe she's looking for a way out,'
Kael thought, bitterness creeping in.
'Doesn't matter.'
'If this thing doesn't drop soon, we're all going to end up as altar decorations.'
Around him, the students—young Rank 2 magicians—cast frantic spells in bursts of light and desperation.
Fire. Ice. Arcane force.
All of it poured into the monster.
None of it mattered.
The headless abomination didn't flinch.
They stood in a broken circle around the nightmare, their voices low and cracked with dread.
"We're going to die, aren't we?"
"It's not dead. Not really. Just… decaying."
"Is that even flesh? Or something worse?"
"I saw its wounds seal shut. It heals—faster than we can hit it."
"If it reaches us…"
No one finished the thought.
Because they all knew.
This wasn't just death.
This was a curse wearing a corpse—hunger shaped like a man.
Then, slicing through the tension like a drawn blade, Yue's voice rang out—calm, sharp, undeniable.
"Kael. Use this."
He turned.
She stood near the dark deity's statue, pointing to a lantern tucked in the shadows.
Dusty, rune-scarred.
Ancient.
Forgotten.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He poured the last of his mana into the Amplification spell—one final burst.
Muscles tensed. Vision blurred.
Pain sharpened into clarity.
With a savage roar, he struck the undead with all he had.
The blow landed hard, sending the creature staggering, half-falling—but not down for long.
It shrieked, something between fury and a tortured hymn, and immediately lunged forward again.
Straight at Kael.
Ignoring the students. Ignoring everything.
Like a lover chasing the one that got away.
Kael cursed under his breath, sprinting toward the lantern.
What do you want from me, you clingy sack of bones?!
The thing was gaining fast.
With no time, Kael grabbed the two nearest students and, without ceremony, hurled them into the undead's path like sacks of grain.
They shrieked—one dropped his staff, the other dropped his dignity.
Both wet themselves.
The undead didn't even hesitate—its blade sliced cleanly through both of them.
Kael stumbled to the foot of the deity's towering statue.
There it was.
The lantern.
Dust-caked, timeworn… and still glowing.
Inside, a blue flame danced—gentle, flickering, impossibly alive.
He didn't stop to wonder how.
How a flame could still burn in a place so long abandoned, buried, and forgotten.
He had more urgent problems.
Like surviving the next ten seconds.
He grabbed the lantern, hands trembling.
The undead's roar echoed behind him—closer.
"Kael!" Yue's voice rang out, sharp. "It's right behind you!"
He fumbled with the latch—twisting, pulling.
It didn't budge.
Kael's breath hitched.
He gritted his teeth and punched the glass.
Nothing.
Not even a crack.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
In rising panic, he raised the lantern—and smacked it against the ground like a stubborn coconut.
Thunk.
Still intact.
Again.
Thunk.
"Kael, what are you doing?" Yue's voice cracked.
"This thing doesn't open!" he snapped. "I'm improvising!"
Behind him, the creature screamed.
Close now.
So close.
Too close.
Yue closed her eyes, unable to watch.
The students—hidden in corners, behind pillars—held their breath.
They didn't know who terrified them more now.
The headless abomination…
Or the masked man smashing ancient artifacts like fruit.
Then—
CRACK.
The sharp sound split the air like lightning.
Yue's eyes snapped open.
And froze.
Kael hadn't broken the lantern himself.
He'd placed it in front of the incoming blade.
The undead's sword had struck it mid-swing, shattering the glass in a violent burst.
Blue fire erupted outward—fluid and unnatural.
Not flames. Not light.
Something older.
Hungrier.
It flooded over both of them—Kael and the undead—like an avalanche of spectral energy.
The undead shrieked, a sound so raw it scraped the soul.