The Devouring Knight

Meanwhile, on the battlefield…

Amid the chaos, Skitz and Lumberling carved a bloody path through the enemy ranks, their advance like a tide no shield wall could hold.

Then, without warning, a fireball shrieked through the air, its heat biting even before it reached him. Lumberling caught the flare in his peripheral vision and twisted aside, the blazing sphere exploding against the ground behind him in a blast of searing heat and dust.

His gaze shot toward the source.

There, at the far edge of the fray, stood a mage clad in a crimson robe, a smug grin stretching across his face.

Another fireball flared to life in the mage's hands and roared toward him, only for Skitz to step into its path. Chaos mana flared from his palm, swirling into an obsidian vortex that devoured the spell whole, snuffing it from existence. It was like watching a black hole swallow light.

The mage's smirk shattered. His eyes bulged in disbelief.

Lumberling, unfazed, glanced at Skitz. "How in the hells do you do that? Why can't I use it?"

Skitz gave a short, amused snort. "Heh. That trick's mine alone, my Lord." Then his grin sharpened, his gaze locking unerringly onto the distant mage. "Should I deal with that rat for you?"

The mage froze. Skitz's eyes seemed to pierce the battlefield like a predator sighting prey. A cold shiver gripped the caster's spine, and in the next heartbeat, he turned and bolted.

"Don't kill him," Lumberling ordered, voice low but carrying.

Skitz's grin only widened. "Understood." In a blur, he was gone, darting through the melee in pursuit.

Lumberling's attention shifted back to the surviving knights, who lingered warily on the edges of the fight, fear plain in their eyes.

He rolled his shoulders, hefted his weapon, and took a step forward.

Steel rang against steel as the four Knights closed in, their formation tight and practiced. Shields overlapped, spears probing in unison.

Lumberling didn't meet them with equal rhythm, he broke it. A sudden feint low drew the left Knight's guard down, and the spearhead flicked up in a vicious arc, splitting through the visor seam. The man crumpled before his partners even registered the kill.

(You have devoured the Knight Apprentice's essence. …

The remaining three adjusted instantly, circling to flank him. Lumberling shifted styles mid-step, from sweeping spear arcs to short, brutal jabs more akin to brawling than knightly combat.

His weapon became a blur, snapping aside one spear while the haft cracked into the other Knight's knee. Armor screeched against stone as the man stumbled, and a thrust through the neck guard silenced him.

(You have devoured the Knight Apprentice's essence…

The last two Knights breath grew ragged. They backed away, shield trembling, eyes darting between Lumberling's stance and the bodies of their comrades.

Lumberling didn't press with reckless speed, he advanced like a predator cornering prey. One desperate lunge was all the two Knights managed before the counterstrike pierced through mail and bone, driving them to the ground.

The Quasi-Knight's blade wavered mid-swing.

Through the narrow slit of his visor, his eyes widened, not with fear, but with the cold clarity of a soldier who finally understood.

This wasn't a duel.

This was a predator's hunt, and he was the prey.

His breath hitched once… and Lumberling's spear came down.

(You have devoured the Quasi-Knight's essence. 600 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Quasi-Knight's memories and experiences.)

(You have devoured…

None of them strong enough to threaten him, Quasi-Knight stage at best.

"No new skills today, huh," he muttered, flicking the blood from his spear.

A final chime sounded.

(Beginner Flowing Edge has reached Level 4. Power +173.)

He smiled faintly. "Well, that's something."

Just as he turned, Skitz emerged from the fray, dragging the unconscious crimson-robed mage by the collar. The man's head hung, his robes scorched from his own misfired spells.

"What element does he use?" Lumberling asked, glancing at the prisoner.

"Fire. Nothing else," Skitz replied with a shrug.

"Alright. Call for Krivex."

Skitz's grin widened. "As you wish, my Lord." He turned and vanished into the crowd, moving to fetch the next piece in his master's plan.

Moments later, Krivex came rushing over, eyes shining with excitement.

"Wipe that grin off your face and focus,"

"Yes, my lord," Krivex said, straightening immediately.

The battlefield around them was still littered with groans and smoke. A wounded mage crawled nearby, trying to conjure one last spell. Lumberling didn't give him the chance. With a swift thrust of his spear, the mage slumped to the ground.

Lumberling exhaled slowly and activated Essence Weave. Violet tendrils burst from his body, coiling around the corpse like living snakes. The tendrils pulsed, drawing in shimmering wisps of energy.

Then, with a flick of his will, he redirected them toward Krivex. The tendrils lashed onto the goblin's chest, sinking into him.

Krivex stiffened, his claws curling as heat surged through his veins. A glow built beneath his skin, first faint, then flaring like embers. He staggered back, gripping his chest as a flicker of flame danced between his fingers.

He stared at the tiny flame in disbelief. "Fire… I can feel it!"

Lumberling smirked faintly. "You've awakened the element."

Krivex flexed his hands, the flame vanishing into wisps of smoke. "Yes… it feels alive inside me."

"How much longer until you finish building your mana heart?"

"Not long. Maybe… two months," Krivex said, his tone brimming with pride.

Lumberling nodded, a sharp glint in his eyes. Soon, he wouldn't just have warriors, he'd have a mage under his command.

.....

After the battle, silence settled over the field like a heavy shroud. The air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke. Bodies of Sengolio soldiers lay scattered across the ground, some still clutching weapons they never got the chance to swing.

A few survivors had fled in panic, disappearing into the distance. Lumberling didn't bother to chase them. The fight was over.

He and his subordinates walked at a steady pace toward the shattered city gate. Dust and ash clung to their armor, their weapons still slick with blood. Ahead, waiting beyond the wreckage, stood Baron Roland, Captain Derrek, the weary city soldiers… and Uncle Eldric.

Baron Roland's eyes narrowed as the figure approached.

Younger than he'd expected, far younger, yet the air around him felt heavy, as if each step carried the echo of a dozen battlefields.

His subordinates behind followed without hesitation, their stances straight, their eyes fixed forward.

Roland felt a flicker of curiosity stir beneath his guarded composure… and, against his better judgment, a trace of admiration.

The two groups faced each other in silence.

Captain Derrek's eyes darted over Lumberling's warriors. Now that he was seeing them this close, the sheer presence they radiated made his throat tighten. His hand twitched toward his sword, but he caught himself and forced it to his side. Then his gaze landed on Skitz, who was casually strolling, hands behind his head, as if he'd just taken a walk in the park.

In that moment, Derrek let go of any thought of testing these creatures. There was no point.

Lumberling broke the silence first, his deep voice steady. "It's nice to finally meet you, Baron Roland. Uncle Eldric has told me much about you."

Roland returned his gaze, calm but measuring. "And it's an honor to meet you as well, Lord Lumberling. Eldric has told me much about you too."

He gave a slight, respectful bow. "You have my thanks. If not for you and your warriors, this city would have fallen before the sun set."

Lumberling's expression didn't change. "Then you should thank Uncle Eldric for that," he said, glancing toward the older man.