CHAPTER 213: CHAPTER 212: THE MOMENT OF PROOF

And then...

There was something else. A spark deep within his chest, quiet but undeniable.

Mana.

For the first time, he felt it, raw energy waiting to be shaped. And the skill that had formed with his breakthrough pulsed in his mind. Spearheart Thrust.

The name was simple. Too simple. But he knew instinctively this was no ordinary strike. This was the path of True Knights, the threshold he had now crossed.

Yet he had no time to savor it.

A crushing aura swept across the battlefield, stronger than anything he had ever felt. His head snapped toward it, heart hammering.

A Knight Two.

For a moment, Lumberling’s breath hitched. His instincts screamed danger, every nerve in his body tightening. He could already feel the ground trembling under the approach, the air itself quivering.

Without hesitation, he pulled his spear free from the fallen Knight’s corpse and turned. He didn’t even stop to examine the changes within himself.

There was no time for that.

He broke into a sprint, spear in hand, his aura flaring as he cut across the battlefield.

Toward the storm.

.....

The earth shook under every strike. Gordon’s blade clashed with the Knight Two’s greatsword, but the difference was clear, every swing from the Sengolio Knight carried weight like a landslide. Skitz darted in and out, his twin daggers sparking against steel, yet even his speed couldn’t fully pierce through the Knight’s iron guard.

"Slow," the Knight rumbled, forcing Gordon back a step with a brutal overhead strike. His voice was deep, steady, carrying the authority of someone who had killed countless foes. "Is this all the Viscount’s little army has to offer?"

Gordon gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow.

Then a sharp whistle of wind cut through the chaos, Lumberling arrived, his spear tip gleaming as he stepped between them.

"Lord Lumberling!" Gordon’s eyes lit up, relief flickering across his battle-worn face. "Glad you came. Let’s work together to take him down. I left Garrick with the other two Knights, he won’t last long on his own."

Lumberling’s gaze didn’t waver from the Knight Two. "Go. Help Garrick. I’ll handle this one."

Gordon blinked, disbelief on his face. "What? Are you certain?"

"Yes. Just go." Lumberling’s tone left no room for doubt.

For a heartbeat, Gordon hesitated. Then he gave a firm nod, pivoted, and sprinted toward the clash where Garrick was struggling.

The Sengolio Knight straightened, rolling his shoulders as he fixed his sharp, battle-hardened eyes on Lumberling. Unlike the faceless Knights before him, he felt something heavy from him.

"So... another lamb steps forward." His mouth curved into a grim smile. "You’re young. Too young for the kind of aura I feel from you. Did you kill one of my men to climb here?"

Lumberling didn’t answer immediately. His hand tightened on his spear, his aura pulsing outward like a cold tide.

"If you’re looking for mercy, you won’t find it," the Knight continued. "I am Kaelvar of Sengolio. Knight of the Second Stage. And I’ll be the last thing you see."

Skitz, breathing hard but grinning wide, flicked his daggers clean and fell back toward Lumberling’s side. His sharp eyes scanned his Lord, and then his grin stretched even wider.

"So that’s it," he muttered with a laugh only Lumberling could hear. "You’ve broken through, haven’t you, my Lord? Finally a True Knight."

Lumberling’s lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing, but the quiet confidence in his stance was answer enough.

Skitz twirled his daggers, his grin feral. "Then with me at your side, we can break him."

Kaelvar raised his sword and pointed it at them. His aura roared, a crushing wave pressing down on the battlefield around them. Soldiers on both sides staggered, some dropping weapons, just from the pressure.

"Come then," Kaelvar growled, eyes blazing with the thrill of battle. "Let’s see if you can survive my blade."

The ground cracked beneath them as the three auras collided, sparks of steel, shouts, and the promise of blood about to be unleashed.

But even in that suffocating storm, Lumberling’s voice cut through, steady and clear.

"Go help them too."

Skitz blinked, caught off guard. "What?" His daggers lowered slightly, his expression twisting in surprise.

"I think I can handle him," Lumberling said, eyes locked on the towering Sengolio Knight.

Skitz frowned, disbelief written all over his face. "You think you can? My Lord, let’s work together, it’ll be faster and safer..."

"No," Lumberling interrupted, his tone firmer now. "I’m not guessing, I know. I can handle him."

Before Skitz could argue further, the Sengolio Knight moved.

Kaelvar surged forward, his greatsword cleaving down in a silver arc that split the air with a thunderclap. The strike was meant to end them both in a single blow.

But Lumberling didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, spear rising with perfect timing.

Steel crashed against steel. Sparks burst in all directions.

Skitz’s eyes widened, the force of that strike would have shattered his guard, maybe even crushed his arms, but Lumberling had caught it cleanly. No strain, no stagger. He held.

Kaelvar’s brows furrowed as he leaned into the bind, his blade grinding against the spear’s shaft. "Impossible..." he muttered, his voice roughened with surprise.

Lumberling’s smile spread, calm yet fierce. He pushed the Knight back a half-step and turned slightly to his companion.

"Go, Skitz. I’m sure of it now. I can defeat him."

The quiet certainty in his voice left no room for doubt.

Skitz stared for a heartbeat, then his grin returned, sharp and wicked.

"Heh... then I’ll trust you."

Lumberling added, almost as an afterthought, "And remember, don’t kill them. We need their essence."

Skitz gave a quick nod, excitement flickering in his eyes. He had just witnessed it, his Lord standing toe-to-toe with a Knight of the Second Stage. That alone was enough proof.

"Hehehe..." His grin widened as he darted back, already plotting what they could do with this new power. ’Now we’ve got a Knight Two of our own.’

And with that, Skitz blurred across the battlefield, heading toward the others, confident that his Lord would carve through the storm.