A fortune teller had once told Bertley that he would live a very long life, and that it would be very difficult for him to die.
Bertley believed firmly in this. After all, those who were able to crawl out of the slums were normally very hard to kill as they would've died in the slums already without sufficient resourcefulness.
Hence, no matter what kind of situation he was in, he was always able to retain clarity of mind, and then make the decision that would secure the most benefits for him.
In his eyes, there was only eternal profit, so he was never going to incur losses.
People like him often lived very long.
However, only when the blade was slowly withdrawn from his chest did Bertley realize that everything the fortune teller had said was just to swindle him out of a gold coin.
His dagger had pierced the leg of the man behind him, but the latter didn't even wince. Bertley turned around, only to find a set of facial features that he was extremely familiar with as he had been looking at the same face for months on end.
The blade of the dagger had almost completely sunk into Louis' leg, but there was nothing on his face to suggest that he was in any pain. It was as if that leg didn't even belong to him.
"A knight must have integrity and moral compass; if not, then they don't deserve to be called a knight. A man like you does not deserve to be called a knight." Louis wore a cold expression on his face as he withdrew his long blade from Bertley's chest, and also extricated Bertley's dagger from his leg.
A strangled gurgling sound came out of Bertley's mouth as he fell to his knees. He stared up at Louis, and was still unable to comprehend how this man had managed to sneak up behind him unawares.
"Even if I'm lame now, I'm still the man who was once referred to as Lone Wolf. It's an honor for trash like you to die by my hands." Louis pursed his lips before departing toward the location where Mag was engaged in battle.
Bertley's eyes widened as he drew his final breath before the final spark of vitality left his body.
At the same time, Mag flicked his wrist, and the tip of his sword carved out a circle in the air. A faint glow lit up on the tip of his sword as he tapped it onto the magic shield of the fire-type magic caster.
The magic shield instantly began to churn, much like a pot of boiling oil would after being splashed with a drop of water. The tip of the sword was able to melt a hole into the magic shield in the blink of an eye, bypassing it with ease as the magic caster looked on with incredulity on his face. The magic shield had been torn apart as if it had been made from papier-mache, and the magic caster was slain on the spot.
ease
Blood gushed through the air, but Mag was already gone. He easily tore through the second magic shield before making short work of the final magic caster.
Mag Alex's forte was killing magic casters. Regardless of whether they were dark or evil magic casters, or magic casters who harbored enmity toward the empire and the general public, none of them could survive against his sword.
Magic casters were extremely confident in high-tier magic shields, thinking that as long as their magic shields were powerful enough, they would be untouchable in battle.
However, Mag was a special exception to this preconceived notion.
He had once been given an opportunity to enter the Magus Tower, and was going to be one of the brightest young prospects they had ever seen. His magic aptitude had been discovered during his first trip to Rodu, and several elders from the Magus Tower had fought to take him as their disciple, only for him to reject all of them.
He only wanted to become a knight, and becoming a magic caster would clearly contradict with that goal.
As a knight, particularly one who served on the empire's borders, he had to face all types of opponents and life-threatening hazards.
Among them, magic casters who carried many types of magic shields were especially troublesome to deal with. In a battle against a magic caster of the same tier, if they had a magic shield with power that exceeded their tier, then they were going to be very difficult to deal with
Hence, Mag invented his own set of sword techniques where he injected his magic into his swordsmanship. Following extensive experimentation, he was able to devise a method to easily break through the vast majority of types of magic shields.
Not many people knew about this as most of them were dead.
After withdrawing his longsword from the second magic caster's chest, Mag was completely surrounded. Four swords pierced through the air toward him in unison, and they were all coming from different directions and angles, cutting off all avenues for evasion or retreat.
Mag swept his longsword behind him, addressing the sword that was aimed at his heart from behind first. In doing so, he pushed the sword off its original path and chopped off one of the wielder's fingers. He then brought his sword upward, slicing another oncoming long saber in half before immediately falling backward, upon which three miniature arrows barely glanced past his face. At the same time, he lashed out with his longsword again, piercing another black-robed assailant's abdomen.
In the blink of an eye, Mag had evaded all four lethal attacks and severely wounded one of his assailants.
However, he was not safe yet. A short sword was thrust toward his waist from behind, and even though he managed to evade it, a gash was still torn into his clothes.
Two flying knives hurtled past his ear, severing several strands of his hair. If he had dodged to the side any later, the knives would have penetrated his glabella.
The Black Falcon who had been stabbed in the abdomen was in extreme pain, but he had no intention of giving up, either, as he swung his short saber toward Mag.
Mag's longsword danced in the darkness, and sweat was already beading on his forehead. His body had only recovered to a 3rd-tier standard, and even though he had managed to kill four people in an extremely short time, he had also almost completely exhausted the soul power in his body. Furthermore, he was walking on an extremely perilous tightrope where he could lose his life at any moment.
"Scum like you are always ganging up on people. Thankfully, I'm not too late this time." Without anyone noticing, Louis had appeared beside the Black Falcon with the wounded abdomen. He thrust his long saber forward, and its tip ran through the Black Falcon's back before emerging from the very same wound that Mag had inflicted earlier.
The remaining three Black Falcons' hearts all jolted with shock upon seeing that. They had seen Mag walking together with a lame man earlier, but their attention had been entirely focused on Mag, so no one paid much heed to the latter. As such, it came as quite a surprise to them that he had re-emerged all of a sudden, and even killed one of their comrades.
Mag took advantage of their split-second long pause to slam his palm into a nearby tree, thereby propelling himself out of the pocket that the three Black Falcons had formed by surrounding him. Immediately thereafter, he threw himself at the final remaining 4th-tier knight.
A series of clashes erupted as the two of them engaged in battle, while Louis took on the two 3rd-tier knights.
10 minutes later, Mag laid the blade of his sword on the 4th-tier knight's neck, and asked coldly, "Josh sent you after me, right?"