Chapter 139: Forging a Legion (2)

In a far corner of the training grounds, where training had temporarily ceased, a group of four fighters stood watching the unfolding events with varying degrees of curiosity.

The first was an energetic young man wearing a torn white shirt that exposed his upper body, while the entire left side of his body had been replaced by a complex mechanical arm filled with gears and wires.

He leaned casually against his weapon, a massive spiked metal ball dangling from a thick iron chain attached to a sturdy metal shaft resting on his shoulder.

"Look at this!" Jax said with a cheerful laugh and a wide grin. "The new Banner Bearer is challenging the old bull! This is going to be fun."

He pointed a finger toward the ring.

"I bet a whole platinum coin he loses in ten moves."

Beside him stood a bare-chested young man whose chest and right arm were covered in intricate black tattoos. He ran a hand through his messy green hair and leaned on his curved sword with an arrogant smirk.

His name was Zane.

"I bet two coins," Zane said mockingly. "He won’t even last eight moves."

Then, staring at Malrik, he added:

"Just look at him. A newly Awakened thinking he can defeat Orren... and worst of all, he’s just a mage. Even his siblings who rely on swordsmanship couldn’t take down that old monster."

"And what exactly is the problem with mages, you bastard?"

The voice came from beside them, cold and sharp.

It was a girl with long dark hair tipped with dark green, wearing tight black clothing that accentuated her sharp demeanor. She narrowed her yellow eyes at Zane.

Her name was Vexia.

"Watch your mouth when talking about mages, you bastard," Vexia added with a dangerous smile. "Or else I’ll cast a hex that shrinks your ’manhood’ to the size of a raisin... assuming it isn’t already."

Jax burst out laughing, while Zane took a mock step backward and raised his hands in surrender, though his playful smirk never faded. "Calm down, beautiful Vexi. We all know you’re the most terrifying thing in these training grounds."

Vexia glared at him in disgust. "Call me by that repulsive name one more time, and I’ll use your skull as a wine goblet."

"Can you all just shut up? Your voices are giving me a headache."

He was wearing a tight black shirt that highlighted his muscles, with a massive snake tattoo coiling around his left arm. His features were serene, his dark eyes freezing cold behind his glasses, and a thin cross-shaped scar rested below his eye.

His name was Ren.

Zane turned to him with a provocative smirk, completely ignoring Vexia’s warning.

"Oh did we bother the Ice Prince? What’s the matter, Ren? Still having nightmares about that Morvyth nest last week? If I hadn’t stepped in to save your ass, your squad would have been nothing but a light snack for the monsters. You should be kissing my feet in gratitude instead of whining."

"Shut your mouth you useless, showboating clown..." Ren growled in a rough, dangerous voice. "I was luring them into a flawless trap! But you charged in like a whore desperate for attention and ruined the entire formation just to look like a hero!"

Ren fully drew his blade and leveled it directly at Zane’s throat. "Say one more word about my men, and I will shove that disgusting green hair down your throat."

Zane didn’t back down an inch. Instead, his smile widened with manic enthusiasm, and he drew his own curved sword. "Finally! You showed some emotion, you corpse! Come on, let’s test it out then!"

Before the blades could clash and turn this corner of the training grounds into a bloodbath, Jax intervened.

He hefted his heavy weapon high and brought the massive, spiked metal ball crashing down with brute force onto the marble floor between them.

BOOOM!

The floor splintered beneath the weapon’s weight, sending light debris flying and forcing both Ren and Zane to take a step back to avoid the impact.

Jax’s cheerful smile vanished completely, and he pointed his massive mechanical arm toward the center of the courtyard.

"Save this nonsense for later!" Jax roared with an authoritative voice. "If you two want to hack each other to pieces, do it after the duel. The real fight is about to begin, and I want to see with my own eyes how the Seventh Banner Bearer managed to take down a Fallen-rank Morvyth!"

Neither Ren nor Zane backed down out of fear of Jax; all three knew very well that they were evenly matched in power.

However, the resounding boom of the strike and Jax’s words were enough to break the momentum of their fight.

Their curiosity to witness the truth behind the rumors surrounding this young mage overshadowed their desire to brawl.

Zane clicked his tongue in annoyance, then slowly sheathed his curved sword. Ren returned his blade in cold silence, shooting Zane one final, threatening glare.

The eyes of all four shifted toward the ring, where Malrik and Orren stood face to face.

---

A heavy silence descended over the courtyard, broken only by the breathing of the soldiers forming the massive human ring.

In the center of the ring, Orren stood calmly, holding his greatsword in one hand as if it were a light tree branch. He did not assume an offensive combat stance; instead, he waited patiently.

Malrik took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the spear.

"Ready?"

Orren gave a calm smile and adjusted his grip on the greatsword.

"Whenever you are, Banner Bearer."

The moment his voice fell, Malrik exploded from his position.

He launched forward like a fleeting shadow, utilizing his multiplied agility. The ground cracked beneath his feet, and in the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Orren, driving a swift, lethal thrust with his sharp steel spear straight toward the man’s chest.

Orren’s eyes didn’t even blink. With a simple, effortless motion, he raised his greatsword—not to block the strike directly, but to smack the flat side of the spear’s blade.

CLAAAANG!

The clash of steel striking steel echoed loudly, and the trajectory of Malrik’s spear was deflected, missing Orren’s ear by a mere hair’s breadth.

But Malrik didn’t stop. He used the momentum of his dash to spin his body, delivering a sweeping blow with the spear’s shaft aimed at Orren’s legs.

Orren, however, had read the move before it even began. He jumped with an agility that completely contradicted his massive frame. While in mid-air, he swung his greatsword down in a terrifying descending arc.

Malrik raised his spear with both hands to block the incoming strike.

BOOOM!

Malrik’s arms shuddered under the sheer, brute force. Yet, he held his ground, thanks to the physical reinforcement granted to him by the Black Shroud.

He took a step back, then unleashed a relentless barrage of rapid thrusts. The spear moved in his hands like a silver serpent, striking from impossible angles.

This was where Orren’s true brilliance showed. He wasn’t just a strongman swinging a slab of iron; he was a master of his craft and a heavyweight swordsman.

He read the angles of attack from the shifts in Malrik’s shoulders and the direction of his eyes long before the strikes reached him. He used the hilt of his sword to parry one thrust, then rotated the blade to deflect another with its flat side. He moved with short, calculated steps that kept him perpetually just out of lethal range.

Suddenly, Malrik spotted an opening.

Orren raised his sword high in preparation for a heavy overhead strike, leaving his entire torso exposed.

Malrik lunged like lightning. He drove a finishing thrust with his spear straight for Orren’s stomach.

But the opening was a feint.

The moment Malrik committed to the dash, Orren stopped the momentum of his greatsword mid-swing with terrifying wrist strength. He twisted his body and stepped inward, completely bypassing the spear’s effective reach.

In the next instant, the heavy pommel of his sword slammed into Malrik’s chest with massive force.

Malrik was blasted backward, skidding across the marble floor for several meters before he could finally plant his feet. He coughed lightly, struggling to catch his breath.

Orren ceased his attack and rested his greatsword on his shoulder. He wasn’t panting, nor had a single drop of sweat fallen from him. He looked at Malrik with genuine respect, a calm smile on his face.

"You truly surprised me, Banner Bearer," Orren said in his level voice.

"Even though you are a mage, your physical capabilities and reaction speed are genuinely astounding. I’ve never in my life seen a mage fight like you... truly, like father, like son."

Orren paused for a moment before adding, in a tone that carried more advice than a challenge.

"But, my lord... no matter how hard you try, you will not be able to defeat me in pure physical combat. Use everything you have instead. Aren’t you a mage? Otherwise, it would be best for you to yield now."

Malrik brushed the dust off his clothes and straightened his posture. He wasn’t angered by Orren’s words; rather, he realized they were true. The man was a seasoned monster in close-quarters combat, and persisting like this was nothing but foolishness.

Damn it... you asked for this.

A faint, dangerous smile appeared on Malrik’s lips.

"You want me to use my magic?" Malrik said, his calm voice echoing throughout the training grounds. "Alright... you have it."

The moment he finished speaking, an aura of green mana heavily tainted with pitch-black energy erupted around him. At the exact same moment, a complex green magic circle formed on the ground beside him.

A heavy, oppressive energy began radiating from within the magic circle, making the air in the courtyard feel thicker than before.

Orren narrowed his blue eyes as he watched the circle. For the first time, the calm in his gaze wavered slightly.

The summoning took time, requiring about ten seconds before the entity could fully materialize.

Orren could have rushed in right then, exploiting those precious seconds to interrupt the skill’s flow or attack Malrik directly. But he didn’t move.

He remained rooted in place, his sword resting on his shoulder. Despite the slight turbulence in his eyes, he stayed resolute and confident. He wanted to see exactly what the Seventh Banner Bearer was going to summon.

After approximately ten seconds passed, the entity manifested.

From the heart of the magic circle emerged a massive hybrid creature resembling a minotaur.

Its skin was pitch-black and covered with glowing blue-green markings that stretched across its broad chest and bulging arms like lines of living energy.

Two long majestic horns extended from its head, giving it a terrifying demonic appearance, and its eyes shone with a steady green light.

Even though its muscular build gave it a humanoid posture, it was undeniably a monster. A monster that reeked of death.

It gripped two massive axes in its hands. A savage bloodthirsty grin was plastered across its horrifying face.

The soldiers in the front rows gasped and took an involuntary step back. Meanwhile, Jax, Zane, Ren, and Vexia stared wide-eyed at the beast that had just appeared.

The terrifying creature stood beside Malrik in a combat stance, ready to pounce and tear apart anyone standing in front of it. At the same time, Malrik raised his steel spear once again and pointed it at Orren.

"Alright, Orren..." Malrik said, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Now, let us fight properly."

****

Author’s Note: If you enjoyed the Chapter, don’t forget to support us! Love you all!