CHAPTER 92: KILL HIM!

Oliver stood tall in the wreckage of the carriage, his eyes sweeping the tightening circle of armored soldiers.

His chest rose and fell in the breathing technique he’d mastered for combat over the years as he quickly ran through what he had at his disposal.

He had merged with a Bog Slime years ago, earning affinities most men would sneer at. Poison, Water, and Preservation. Yet these were enough. More than enough.

They’d seen him through years of combat, where a single mistake meant death. Now, they would see him through this one too.

His eyes swept over the soldiers once more, keeping an eye out for any sudden movement, before quickly glancing behind him.

Cecilia was crouched over Noah, golden eyes locked on the half-finished teleportation formation glowing faintly between her palms.

She didn’t even look up. Her focus was absolute, but he was... uncomfortable with her current vulnerability.

With a grim sigh, Oliver extended his hand and let the energy of his highest ranked skill ripple outward once again.

A dome of glistening, translucent jelly sealed Cecilia and Noah within, viscous and protective, cushioning them from the world.

Oliver muttered under his breath. "You’re not dying on my watch."

Then he turned, stepping into the night air, meeting the soldiers head on. Someone had to stay outside the dorm and distract them while Cecilia worked.

The caped commander raised his arm, and the ring of steel closed. "Kill him."

They rushed him as one.

Oliver’s hand flexed. With a shimmer of blue light, his halberd materialized from his pocket storage. Its steel gleamed, the edges etched with enchantments designed to cut through even the toughest hides.

He swung it in a wide arc, the blade meeting the first charging soldier with a crunch of metal and bone. The man fell, screaming, his blood spraying across the trampled grass.

Another soldier lunged, a spear thrusting for Oliver’s ribs. Oliver’s body twisted like water itself, halberd shaft catching the blow.

He pivoted, poison mana bleeding from his free hand, coating the spear’s shaft. The soldier yanked his weapon back, only to gag and collapse moments later, blood frothing from his lips.

A blast of fire was hurtled towards him. Oliver didn’t flinch. He spread his hand and drew from the spells of his Preservation affinity.

The flames froze in midair, suspended in place as if painted onto reality, their heat snuffed instantly. He swept his halberd through the frozen fire, dispersing it like shards of shattered glass.

Three came at him next, swords flashing. Oliver’s halberd twirled in his hands as he caught their blades, deflecting it away, and countering through the opening he’d just created.

He rammed the weapon’s butt into one soldier’s chest, then swung its axe-like blade into another’s helmet, splitting it and the head inside in one motion.

The third slashed his arm, drawing blood, but Oliver snarled, countering with a jet of conjured water that slammed the man off his feet. The water rippled with poison, seeping through his armor, and soon the soldier convulsed where he fell.

Oliver’s movements were fluid, his halberd carving arcs of death in every direction.

To the soldiers, he was not a teacher. They faced a man who had fought demons more than anything.

He parried a lightning bolt with Preservation, freezing the crackling arcs in the air before turning them back on their caster.

He summoned waves of water that surged around him like shields, absorbing arrows and fire, only to hurl them back as whips that sliced through armor.

With every strike of his halberd, another man fell. With every breath, his poison worked silently, seeping into lungs, veins, and marrow, spreading rot from the inside out.

The battlefield became a deadly dance. Soldiers staggered and coughed blood, their blades trembling in poisoned hands. Others pressed in harder, driven by loyalty to their lord, only to be met by Oliver’s merciless attacks.

He didn’t slow not atop. He simply fought like water, flowing and adapting, becoming almost unstoppable. His halberd spun and his body twisted, his magic threading through each attack and counterattack.

He was bleeding. He was bruised. But he stood unbroken, his presence alone holding the line.

Another wave of soldiers crashed against him. A spear clipped his side, sending pain lancing up his ribs. He grunted but pressed forward, halberd cleaving clean through the shaft before burying itself in the man’s chest.

Arrows rained down from behind, but Oliver raised a barrier of water above him, the shafts splintering harmlessly against it.

One soldier screamed as his sword burst into flame, charging from Oliver’s flank. Oliver’s eyes narrowed. He extended a hand, and Preservation caught the weapon, freezing it back into unlit steel mid-swing.

With a pivot, he struck, the halberd’s blade severing the soldier’s arm before finishing him with a thrust to the gut.

Bodies piled. The stench of blood and poison thickened the night air. Oliver’s breath came heavy, sweat streaking down his brow.

He had to buy time. He had to keep Cecilia safe. He had to keep Noah alive. Just long enough for Cecilia to get the spell right.

The soldiers, however, were not breaking. Their formation bent but did not shatter, their determination unshaken despite the mounting dead.

They continued to stream towards him, filling the gaps of fallen comrades, driving Oliver back step by step towards the shattered carriage.

Then, at last, the caped commander raised his hand again.

"Enough."

The soldiers stopped, retreating to form a circle once more.

The night air was heavy with groans of the dying and the hiss of poisoned breath. Oliver lowered his halberd slightly, chest heaving, eyes narrowing at the commander.

The man stepped forward, his red cape rippling in the night breeze, his hand glowing with power. His gaze was calm, but his voice was hard.

"I’ll kill you myself."

The air seemed to grow colder, as if acknowledging his words as truth.

Oliver straightened, gripping his halberd tighter, blood dripping from his wounds.

The circle widened, leaving only the two of them standing in the wreckage, the light of the moon shining down upon them.

A duel was about to begin.