Catherine's face was full of confusion as Ambrose tossed her into the air.
What had happened? Why was he…?
Wait, sothing wasn't right. Why was the lich even using Mage Hand to grab her limbs?
Four faintly glowing blue hands seized her wrists and ankles, spreading her body out in a star shape. She was suspended in midair in an embarrassingly exposed pose.
Before Catherine could even start struggling, a trendous force struck her from behind.
The silvery-white slash slamd into her. The sa attack that had cleaved a city in half rely tore open the clothing on her back, then carried her soaring high into the sky.
With Catherine blocking the blow, Ambrose was finally able to evade the attack. However, Naomi's wing had been grazed—a massive wound had rent her right wing, leaving her unable to stay aloft.
Ambrose had no choice but to send Naomi into his extradinsional space to recover, while he remained hovering in midair with Flight.
Monts later, a disheveled Catherine swooped down from the sky on her giant eagle. The instant she grabbed Ambrose, she drove a punch straight into his face.
Her fist struck solid mithril, and the pain made her gnash her teeth. Clearly, she hadn't held back at all.
Clutching her hand, Catherine snapped angrily, "You bastard! What was that?!"
This was the first ti in her life she had been thrown out as a shield, and the first ti she had ever been abandoned like that. Her eyes were already reddening with anger, as if she might tear Ambrose apart on the spot.
"You said you wanted to help ," Ambrose replied matter-of-factly. "If you hadn't blocked that strike just now, I'd already be dead. A divine blessing really is sothing else."
Divine blessings really were absurd. Under moonlight, Catherine remained completely unhard. Even the Silvermoon Knight's Sacred Slash couldn't harm her.
"You could have told in advance!" Catherine abruptly stopped talking and glared at him instead.
That moonlit strike hadn't injured her, but the imnse force of holy light had shredded her clothes into rags.
After being blasted into the sky, she had been forced to change before flying back down. There were few clouds in the night sky. Who knew whether this lich had seen anything he shouldn't have?
But she couldn't bring herself to say that aloud, so she could only glare at him in fury.
Ambrose, completely oblivious, only knew that Catherine was effectively invincible under moonlight, and had just helped him bait out the Silvermoon Knight's strongest blow.
Seeing how angry she was, he quickly apologized. "That was my fault. I had no ti to warn you. How was I supposed to know that old man wouldn't strike the dwarves? He ca straight for ! I didn't have ti to discuss it with you. My apologies. I can compensate you to demonstrate my sincerity."
"Really?" Catherine's tone softened slightly.
She possessed a soul of pure goodness acknowledged by the gods. If Ambrose was genuinely apologizing to her, she would forgive him.
The problem was that this lich lied as easily as he breathed. Catherine didn't trust him much, and rightly suspected this apology might just be perfunctory.
"I'll split half the gold I extorted from Hoffmann with you," Ambrose said, wincing as if in pain.
Never one to leave empty-handed, Ambrose had taken a hundred thousand gold coins from Hoffmann under the pretense of repairing the Temple of the God of Alchemy. It wasn't a huge sum, but giving Catherine fifty thousand gold was already a massive concession in his eyes.
Catherine didn't know how much he'd managed to scam from the dwarves, but she did know how obsessed he was with gold. If nothing else, she would accept his gesture.
"Hmph. I won't hold it against you for now." In truth, most of her anger had already faded.
"Thank you. As expected of the elven queen, you're far more magnanimous than an undead like ," Ambrose said, piling on flattery without restraint. He couldn't afford to upset his "shield" right now.
With that matter temporarily settled, Ambrose looked down from overhead.
In just a few dozen seconds, the dwarven line had been pushed back again and again. Even with legendary fighters joining the fray, they couldn't stop those glowing paladins.
In terms of support capability, priests were unmatched. They could multiply the paladins' combat power several tis over. With enough of them, even the lesser legends were starting to feel imnse pressure.
It wasn't that they couldn't win, but that winning would require risking their lives.
And if they exhausted themselves now, what would they do when the Silvermoon Knight made his move?
Ambrose could clearly feel the dwarves' morale faltering. Their legends had been shaken by the previous battle. They couldn't even bring out thirty percent of their strength. Afraid of being instantly killed by a sudden strike, they were focusing largely on the Silvermoon Knight.
The Silvermoon Knight, for his part, also wanted to influence the battle, but the battle lines were too entangled. One careless strike could cut down his own n.
So he chose a different target: Ambrose, flying in the sky. That silver dragon was simply too conspicuous.
After so discussion, they had concluded it was likely a transford druid rather than a true ti dragon, but the combat power of that dragon rider was still deeply concerning.
The anti-magic spike that had pierced a legendary paladin during the day had since been extracted, and the Lyon forces now understood its danger. Almost no magical defense could withstand it. Only heavy tal armor offered any resistance at all.
And that dragon's breath could corrode even a paladin's armor. Combined with anti-magic weaponry, it was practically unstoppable.
Its breath attack, which couldn't be resisted and had to be dodged, was much like the Silvermoon Knight's own Sacred Slash.
The dwarves now had their own equivalent of a Silvermoon Knight. How could Lyon ignore that?
The Silvermoon Knight understood this clearly. If that dragon rider were allowed to fight freely, no one on Lyon's side—except himself—could stop him.
So his first strike had been aid directly at the dragon rider.
And yet it had been blocked.
From such a distance, he couldn't perceive the details, but he knew one thing for certain: sothing had stopped his Sacred Slash.
Although it had injured the dragon's wing, it hadn't achieved its desired purpose.
And now that he had used his ultimate attack, he would need so ti to rest. He would not be able to unleash another strike for the next five minutes.
"Age catches up to us all… if only I were ten years younger."
He knew his death was approaching. He should have been enjoying his final years in peace within the empire. But he also knew that ti was running out for Lyon. Before the coming upheaval, he had to secure as much advantage as possible for his holand.
A divine war among the Nine Kingdoms was on the horizon. Ambrose wasn't the only one who sensed it. The people of Lyon did too. That was why they were so desperate.
Before that chaotic future arrived, the Silvermoon Knight was trying to eliminate as many enemies as possible to repay the empire that had raised him.
Five minutes. Just five more minutes, and he could strike again.
Even if that dragon rider possessed so artifact capable of blocking his attack, it surely couldn't be used freely. The next strike would kill him.
But Ambrose had no intention of waiting five minutes.
The clear night sky suddenly filled with dark clouds. Then, massive hailstones began to fall.
Chunks of ice larger than human heads rained down and smashed into the Lyon formation. Even heavily armored paladins were knocked to the ground. Those without sufficient defensive buffs were killed instantly.
Allen, standing beside the Silvermoon Knight, swung his blade to shatter the falling ice.
No matter how large the hailstones were, a Sacred Slash would reduce them to powder.
This was his duty. He could not allow the Silvermoon Knight to waste even a fraction of his strength on such attacks.
The hailstorm lasted a full thirty seconds. By the ti it ended, Lyon had suffered heavy losses: at least a hundred dead, with countless more injured. They were forced to retreat temporarily.
The retreat only lasted for a few hundred ters. Once outside the hailstorm's range, they began treating the wounded and reorganizing their ranks.
Wiping ice fragnts from his face, Allen said in disbelief, "Was that the eighth-tier Control Weather? Does the Dwarven Kingdom have a mage that powerful?"
Beyond the seventh tier, spellcasting difficulty rose exponentially. Most legends couldn't even cast eighth-tier spells outside their specialization.
The Silvermoon Knight shook his head. "That wasn't Control Weather. I suspect it was rely Ice Storm."
"Ice Storm?" Allen was stunned. "That's impossible. The area was far too large."
The Silvermoon Knight stared at the sky, frowning deeply.
He had known countless mages over his lifeti, and he was certain his judgnt was more reliable than Allen's. It was Ice Storm, a fourth-tier spell. Normally, it would only be able to cover a dozen ters at most. But the spell's power had been amplified dozens of tis. Its range was utterly absurd.
Was the dragon rider also a powerful legendary mage?
He would have to be more than a re legend. Perhaps he possessed so artifact that could massively enhance all spell effects.
That, combined with his ability to block Sacred Slash… Just how many artifacts did this man have?
Who even was this dragon rider? Which kingdom did he belong to, or was he perhaps a chosen of so god? And why was he opposing Lyon?
There were too many unanswered questions and no ti to dwell on them. The Silvermoon Knight turned to Allen. "Convey my order. All legends will join in battle. Our priority is to take down that dragon rider."
If such a powerful mage were allowed to cast freely, even if Lyon had a hundred thousand troops, they would only die in vain beneath his spells.
Even though aerial combat wasn't the paladins' strength, they had no choice. They had to eliminate him at any cost.
But before Lyon's legendary fighters could take to the sky, the second wave of magic arrived.
This ti, four blazing teors descended from the heavens.
This was the ninth-tier teor Shower.
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