"Aaaagh!" Another soldier fell, never to rise again.
Though only a short time had passed since the battle began, their side had already suffered heavy losses.
Four of Will's soldiers were dead. Two Holy Knights had perished. Among the adventurers, one was slain and another gravely wounded, unable to fight.
Even though Mira had managed to kill one cultist, and a Holy Knight had slain another, their numbers were dwindling, leaving them at an ever‑greater disadvantage.
If things continued this way, their group would be wiped out first.
Given the situation, both Will and Erik understood clearly: they had to use everything they had, immediately. Even if it meant a reckless gamble where failure would mean death for them all. For if they delayed, they would lose even the right to make such a gamble.
Will shouted, "Erik!"
Erik understood what the commander meant. They could not hesitate any longer.
Erik: "Mark, come here. Coris, please take over leading Mark's team."
Smashing aside a statue, Mark quickly approached the guild's vice‑chairman.
Mark: "Do you have a plan?"
Erik: "I wouldn't call it a plan—more like a gamble. Among the adventurers, you're the one who can deal the greatest damage to that barrier. If you get close enough, can you break it?"
Mark: "You know that if I focus on that attack, I'll lose almost all ability to defend myself, right?"
Erik: "I know. That's why I'll do everything I can to get you there. After that, I can't guarantee anything. I'll need to stay close to you so my magic can support you, which means if we fail, we'll likely both die."
Mark: "Aren't you afraid I'll refuse if you're that blunt?"
Mark smiled faintly.
Erik: "Do we have any choice but to gamble?"
Mark: "Forcing a support Mage like you to risk your life in close combat… it seems we truly have no other option."
Erik: "You understand how intervention zones work. If I could avoid this, I would."
Indeed, Mark already knew the basics of spiritual energy.
For example, a skilled Water Mage could theoretically kill an enemy by manipulating the water inside their body, rather than controlling external water as a weapon. But they didn't do this—not because they didn't want to, but because they couldn't.
A person's own body was their strongest intervention zone, nearly impossible for another to invade.
For Mage A to interfere directly with Mage B's body, they usually had to make physical contact, and Mage B had to willingly drop resistance.
Otherwise, if A could still intervene, it meant their power was so vastly superior that the difference was like human versus ant. In such cases, intervention was irrelevant—A had countless ways to kill B anyway.
For non‑mages, their intervention zone was limited to their own body and what they touched directly, like a sword or armor.
For Mages, their zone extended outward, varying by ability.
That's why a Mage could ignite a flame meters away instantly, rather than conjuring it close and moving it slowly. The closer the distance, the stronger the control.
That is why Erik needed to stay close to Mark, so his magic could be released in time to protect him once he advanced too deep into the enemy's range.
At the altar, the Dark Priest in his black robe, bearing the symbol of the eye, noticed their movement.
He immediately understood the defiant mortals were still struggling. His mocking laughter echoed:
"You fools! Do you truly think you have any hope of survival?"
Will: "Even if we die here, as long as we drag more of you down with us, fewer innocents will suffer at your hands. Isn't that so?"
Erik: "Indeed. That is a worthy sacrifice."
With those words, they launched into their final gamble.
Will swallowed a special pill. His body's strength surged, rivaling the Undead before him. Smiling fearlessly, he raised his sword and charged.
Not far away, Erik and Mark rushed toward the altar.
Twenty steps remained.
Seeing them advance, the cultists reacted, launching attacks.
Statues blocked their path, but Erik's flying papers shattered into countless razor‑sharp fragments, slicing the enemies apart.
Fifteen steps.
A torrent of water surged forth, threatening to drown them. Erik's papers wrapped around them, forming an arrow that pierced through the flood.
The cultist reshaped the water into a massive sphere, trapping them—but Erik split it in two with a giant sword made from paper.
Ten steps.
The water sphere, split in two, shattered into countless smaller globes like marbles.
They transformed into a rainstorm, pelting diagonally down from behind Erik and Mark.
Each 'drop' was like a bullet, intent on tearing the two apart.
From the book in Erik's hands, a flurry of papers flew forth, each sheet swiftly reshaping into a shield to block the deadly rain.
Whenever one shield was destroyed, another immediately rose to take its place.
Five steps.
The Dark Priest finally acted.
His right arm stretched and warped into a monstrous limb, fingers meters long, talons sharp as an eagle's.
The massive hand lunged, seizing Mark, crushing him brutally. Yet instead of blood, Mark's body burst into sheets of paper—a decoy magic.
Two steps.
The real Mark emerged from Erik's swirling papers, wielding a sword glowing with radiant light.
Erik: "Do it."
With both hands, Mark raised the sword high.
"Shining Oath" – Letting out a resounding battle cry, he shouted the name of his technique and, without the slightest hesitation, swung his sword down as if to cleave everything before him in two.
A thunderous sound erupted, shaking the ears of all present.