"Clang!..." Will's sword clashed against the massive hammer swinging toward him, producing the harsh, ringing cry of metal.
Channeling spiritual energy, Will dispersed the shock reverberating through his weapon‑gripping arms, then fixed his gaze on the enemy before him.
Though confident in his own combat skills, Will did not believe he could quickly overcome this foe.
The man was towering in stature, cloaked entirely in black. In his hands, he wielded a massive hammer still dripping with fresh blood—the blood of one of Will's soldiers.
That soldier had been a young man full of ambition and talent, only to meet a brutal death at the hands of this enemy.
The hammer's swings were devastatingly heavy and savage; a single strike could end the life of any soldier present.
For that reason, Will was the only one capable of confronting and restraining him.
After several exchanges, Will grew confident that his technique far surpassed that of his opponent.
Yet despite his superior skill, the enemy's raw physical strength was overwhelming.
"Boom!" The hammer crashed down.
The blow was so powerful that even Will's sword could not block it directly.
He swiftly sidestepped and countered with a slash. Though the enemy dodged, the strike grazed his arm, leaving only a shallow wound. His initial aim was to sever the enemy's entire arm.
'Again,' Will muttered in frustration.
One clean hit from the enemy would spell his defeat, while the foe could endure countless wounds from Will's blade.
At first, Will hoped that accumulated injuries might eventually bring him down.
But after prolonged combat, he uncovered the truth: this opponent was a high‑level Undead, controlled by the Mage behind the barrier.
As an Undead, minor wounds were meaningless—he neither bled nor tired.
If the battle dragged on, it would be Will who exhausted his strength and fell.
The best way to deal with such a powerful Undead was for the Priests of Solvaris to unleash their magic—ideally Light (Holy) magic, or failing that, Fire or Lightning.
Unfortunately, all three Priests were occupied maintaining protective wards for the group.
The company was already at a disadvantage, struggling against waves of enemies.
Without the Priests' support, the crushing pressure radiating from the great statue would collapse them instantly, leading to a massacre.
Will even considered sacrificing himself and his soldiers to cover the retreat of the others.
Yet the space seemed sealed—outsiders could enter, but those inside could not escape.
After a brief analysis, Erik concluded that to break the seal, they would need to destroy the statue itself.
That revelation only deepened their despair, for it meant dismantling the barrier at the altar and defeating the cultists guarding it.
"....." The black‑robed Mage muttered an incantation. Suddenly, the Undead Will surged in speed, nearly striking him with its hammer.
Though he narrowly dodged, the blow shattered part of his shoulder armor.
The foe was so dangerous that even the slightest lapse could cost Will his life.
Balancing combat, command of his soldiers, and the search for a solution, the burden weighed heavily on Will's shoulders.
As commander of this campaign, he was powerless to find a way out. He hoped Erik might create an opening, but Erik, too, was trapped in dire straits.
* * * * * * * * * *
The book in Erik's hands, the guild's vice‑chairman, burst open, releasing countless blank pages that swirled around him.
The sheer volume far exceeded what the book could contain, raising the question: was this truly a book of endless paper?
In truth, the pages were a form of Erik's magic, created from his own spiritual energy and amplified by the book.
From the enemy's side, countless water spheres were hurled toward Erik and his allies.
Erik's flying papers transformed into shields, intercepting them all.
Each time a sphere struck a paper shield and shattered, the shield dissolved and fell to the ground.
Wherever the liquid touched, the earth corroded, releasing a pungent acidic stench.
Though small, each sphere was deadly—filled with toxins and corrosive properties that could melt flesh.
Even after being blocked, their poison spread into the air.
With a wave of his hand, Erik drew several special vials from his spatial ring and hurled them. Shattering on impact, they released a gentle fragrance that dispersed the toxic mist.
Seeing his attack fail, the cultist cut his own palm and cast a strange spell.
Erik immediately felt the space around him grow thick, slimy, suffocating—like sinking into water. Yet he noticed his comrades nearby fought unaffected.
'A personal curse?' he thought.
He pressed a sheet of paper to his forehead; it darkened instantly, absorbing the curse.
The discomfort vanished. With the curse transferred, Erik launched his counterattack.
Pages folded into sharp arrows and shot toward the enemy. Though made of paper, they were razor‑sharp, rivaling steel blades.
They sliced through the air as if to shred the entire group of foes. Yet all were blocked by the Dark Priest behind the barrier.
Even Erik, usually calm, furrowed his brow at the predicament.
At the altar stood three enemies—all Mages.
One was the necromancer controlling the Undead against Will.
Of the other two, only one attacked relentlessly, while the Dark Priest in the center maintained their defenses, creating a safe zone for the group.
Thus, although Erik was stronger than any one of them individually, he could not overcome their coordination.
He needed another ally to break the stalemate.
He thought of Mage Mira, but shook his head.
Both he and Mira were versatile support‑type Mages, not suited for direct offense.
What they needed now was someone with overwhelming attack power to shatter the enemy's defenses.