The moment Andreas unleashed his spells, the Arcanists in the rear felt a simultaneous shudder ripple through their hands.
The hollow sensation following the Silence, originating from the depths of their souls, caused most of their spells to lose their mark. The chaotic energies veered into their own rear lines, nearly striking Tortheldrin, who was positioned at the center of the formation.
Andreas swung Xal'atath, the Blade of the Black Empire, in his left hand. With Shadow energy coating the blade, he met the stray spells head-on, parrying them with brute force.
Slash!
A final arc of purple sword-light sliced a massive Pyroblast fireball in half. Andreas shifted his focus to the staff in his right hand. Taking advantage of the enemy's faltering morale, he began preparing a large-scale spell.
Watching from the sidelines, Daros Moonlance nearly pulled out his own thick beard in shock.
"...Is this a joke? Slicing through spells with a sword?"
Daros's murmur went unheard by Andreas, who was fully concentrated on the battle.
He kept his feet moving, softly chanting incantations as he wove through the enemy's front lines alone. Every movement seemed to dodge the front-line warriors' attacks by the narrowest of margins.
Sensing the increasingly dense energy gathering in Andreas's staff, Tortheldrin gripped his Moonglaives tightly and activated a Charge skill toward him.
"So many of you can't even touch his hem! You've disgraced the very name of the Shen'dralar! From now on, all your training regimens are doubled. Now... move aside!"
Tortheldrin, mid-charge, turned into a blur as he rapidly closed the distance to Andreas.
Andreas's footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. Then, he kicked an inconspicuous small pebble toward the straight-line path of Tortheldrin's charge.
This sudden move took Tortheldrin completely by surprise.
The termination condition for Charge—a specialized technique for melee classes—is colliding with an object, regardless of what that object is.
That small pebble landed exactly in the path of Tortheldrin's advance. The greatest drawback of a charge—the inability to move in anything but a straight line—was effortlessly exploited by Andreas.
Snap!
In his shock and rage, Tortheldrin swung his Moonglaive to crush the pebble, but his charging momentum came to an abrupt halt right then and there.
The corner of Andreas's mouth curled upward. He released the completed spell directly behind Tortheldrin.
"Negative Vortex."
A dark purple, nearly black, planar energy spiral appeared on the field. Much like the Collapsing Star Andreas frequently used, it pulled everyone in the vicinity toward the center of the vortex.
However, unlike the damage-focused Collapsing Star, the Negative Vortex was a pure crowd-control spell. While it couldn't directly deal damage to the targets, having a large number of "iron cans" (armored warriors) forcibly squeezed together... was definitely not a pleasant experience for them.
The veins on Tortheldrin's forehead throbbed. Having been humiliated repeatedly by Andreas, his rationality was gradually eroding under the influence of Fel energy.
No longer caring about hiding his secrets, green flames erupted across Tortheldrin's body as he made a second dash toward Andreas.
A look of "as expected" flashed in Andreas's eyes. "Fel Rush? Heh~"
The energy blade extended once more from the tip of the Staff of G'Hanir as the casting finished. The polearm, transformed from a staff into a spear, delivered a vertical slash toward the path of Tortheldrin's advance.
But something unexpected happened. Tortheldrin's originally moon-colored eyes turned completely green. During his dash, he suddenly made a sharp, right-angle turn, dodging Andreas's counterattack and lunging forward again with savage force.
"Lord Andreas, look out!"
Tortheldrin's sudden burst and change of direction were somewhat outside Andreas's expectations, but he felt no worry or fear in the face of this emergency.
Over the past two hundred years, Andreas hadn't been so busy with political affairs that he had no time for anything else. Once the development of Moonshadow's Rest was on the right track, he had gradually delegated power. Currently, the daily management of the town was handled by the officially appointed Chief Magistrate, Marclai, while Andreas focused only on overall strategic planning.
With a large amount of free time, Andreas—who still maintained the fast-paced habits of his past human life—did not waste it in leisure like his fellow kin. He had built a small arena in the eastern suburbs of Moonshadow's Rest. Anyone could pay an entry fee to enter, and those with confidence could step onto the stage to duel other challengers.
In his past life, while Andreas wasn't a hardcore PVP enthusiast in World of Warcraft, as an old player on a PVP server, he was very familiar with world encounters, ambushes, battleground rushes, arena coordination, and dueling at the city gates.
Initially, Andreas only wanted to provide a way for the young men with excess energy to have a form of entertainment, and perhaps realize their own shortcomings through sparring. But over time, the scale of the arena grew through multiple expansions due to the explosive growth of spectators, gradually becoming a landmark and a characteristic feature of the town.
When Andreas first began competing on stage, most challengers were afraid to strike him hard, always fighting with hesitation. To avoid this, Andreas posted an announcement outside the arena.
Regardless of who it was, anyone who could defeat him would receive a reward of 500 Kaldorei gold coins.
As the saying goes, "Under a heavy reward, there must be brave men." Given the living standards of ordinary residents in Moonshadow's Rest, one could only earn about 80 gold coins a year through hard work. This massive sum naturally attracted many powerful warriors to challenge him, and even many confident combatants from surrounding villages came for the fame.
Over 200 years, the wealthy Andreas had given out the prize money about a dozen times. However, as his combat techniques grew more refined, obtaining the reward from him became increasingly difficult. This prize had now gradually become an urban legend in Moonshadow's Rest.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Andreas calmly retorted to the shouting Linus, "What are you yelling for? I'm not dead yet."
Facing Tortheldrin's sudden change of direction, which disregarded the physical burden on his body, Andreas did not lash out in a panic. Instead, he calmly swung Xal'atath in his left hand.
Clang!
Xal'atath collided with the Moonglaive in Tortheldrin's hand, which was wreathed in green flames. Not being a warrior by trade, Andreas could not withstand the other's frantic, heavy force.
He was prepared the moment the blades met, using the momentum from Tortheldrin's Moonglaive to fly backward.
Tortheldrin, a trained Spellblade, refused to let up. His left-hand Moonglaive, coated in green Fel-fire, pursued Andreas to continue the assault.
Using centrifugal force to spin once on the ground, Andreas struck again with Xal'atath, now charged with added momentum. This time, Andreas did not retreat; he met the charge head-on and stopped Tortheldrin, whose momentum was nearly exhausted.
The light-blade of G'Hanir reappeared, slashing downward before Tortheldrin could recover his posture from his overextended charge.
Tortheldrin's face was flushed red. Ignoring the intense pain in his legs from the sudden directional shift, he forced his parried right-hand Moonglaive forward, barely managing to block the light-blade in a narrow escape.
Seeing the other's trembling lower body, a flash of amusement appeared in Andreas's eyes.
"Here, do a split for me."
With both hands occupied, Andreas delivered a swift side-kick, striking exactly on the inside of Tortheldrin's splayed left leg.
"You!"
His legs, unable to find purchase, involuntarily splayed outward to both sides. Sensing disaster, Tortheldrin tried desperately to pull back his lower body, but he had clearly overestimated his physical condition.
Crack~
Prince Tortheldrin performed a full split on the ground like a high-level gymnast. Along with the crisp sound of bone, his face immediately turned the color of a pig's liver.