The Devouring Knight

Even the Legate, locked in his desperate struggle against the massive spiraling blood blade, felt it. His instincts screamed danger. Something monstrous was coming from behind.

But he couldn't turn. He couldn't move.

All he could do was grit his teeth and brace himself, just as Lumberling hurled the spear.

It tore through the air with a roar, carrying the weight of every force, every element, and every ounce of will he possessed, racing straight toward the Legate's back.

Vaenyra caught the faint ripple in the air, the unmistakable pressure of Lumberling's throw, and her eyes flashed. Without missing a beat, she poured even more power into her attack, her blood blade swelling in size and speed.

The Legate gritted his teeth, too focused on blocking her assault to notice the death rushing toward him from behind.

Then…

Shhk!

Lumberling's spear pierced straight through his back. The impact was clean, silent for a second, then everything erupted.

The Legate staggered forward, blood spurting from his mouth. His strength was already fading after his long clash with Vaenyra. Now, with a spear jutting from his chest, even his monstrous endurance couldn't save him.

"You… insolent…" he rasped, his voice low and cracking. That was all he managed before the blood blade from the front pierced through him completely, pinning him in place.

And then…

BOOOOM!

Lumberling's spear exploded.

The different energies and elements collided all at once. The air twisted violently, forming a swirling black void that pulled in everything around it. The explosion didn't just blast outward, it folded space, warping the ground, tearing the clouds above, and shattering the earth below.

For a moment, everything was consumed by blinding light and roaring wind.

From below, Lumberling shielded his eyes, his body trembling from the backlash. The blast was so intense it made his skin burn just standing there. Still, he didn't look away.

His mind was filled with only one thought…

'Who killed him? Who got the last hit? Come on… notification, ring now, ring now…'

He waited, his heart pounding. The battlefield was quiet now, only the faint crackle of fire and the echo of fading thunder remained.

Then…

(You have devoured the Knight's essence. 30,000 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight's memories and experience.)

Lumberling's eyes widened.

'HELL YEAHHHH!!!'

The thought echoed in his head like a victory cry, but then it hit him.

A massive surge of essence flooded into his body. It wasn't like before. This one was heavier… older. The Legate's essence was thick, ancient, and terrifyingly strong. It poured into him like a raging flood, filling every part of his being until it hurt to breathe.

His whole body began to shake. Centuries of memories and emotions crashed into his mind, wars, duels, pride, hatred, pain. It was as if he was being forced to live a hundred lifetimes in a single heartbeat.

His Mindseal Meditation tried to hold it back, to keep the flood contained, but the barrier was cracking.

He dropped to one knee, clutching his head as pain ripped through his skull. His vision spun wildly, colors bursting and fading like flashes of lightning.

"Lumberling! What's wrong?" Aurelya's voice cut through the noise, full of panic.

"Hey! Stay with us!" Thessalia shouted, already moving closer.

But before they could reach him, everything went white.

Lumberling's body stiffened, then collapsed backward. The battlefield faded away as his consciousness slipped, the echo of the Legate's memories still roaring inside his mind like a storm

…..

"Healers! What are you waiting for? Heal him now!" Aurelya's voice rang sharp across the field, sharp and trembling with panic.

The elf healers flinched at her tone but quickly rushed to surround Lumberling. Their hands glowed with soft green light as they began chanting, voices overlapping in steady rhythm. The air filled with faint ripples of mana as they poured everything they had into their healing spells.

But no matter how much power they used, Lumberling's body kept trembling. His face twisted in agony, sweat rolling down his temples.

Minutes turned to hours. The healers' mana was running dry, their breathing growing ragged. They had mended every wound, sealed every cut, and restored every trace of damage his body had taken. Still, the torment on his face didn't fade.

Finally, one of the healers stepped back, exhaustion written all over her pale face. "Lady Aurelya," she said softly, almost afraid to speak, "we've done all we can. His body… it's fully healed. There are no wounds left."

Aurelya's head snapped toward her. "Then why does he still look like that, huh?!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "Does that look fine to you? He's in pain! Is that what you call healed?"

The healers froze, exchanging uneasy glances. None of them dared to answer.

Then a hand rested on Aurelya's shoulder. Thessalia's calm voice followed. "Aurelya, calm down. This isn't the time to blame them."

Aurelya's lips quivered. "But… but he looks like he's in so much suffering…" she whispered, her anger melting into worry. Her golden eyes trembled, and before she could stop it, tears began to form at their edges.

Both women turned toward Lumberling. He lay motionless on a spread of cloth, his body still but his brows tightly furrowed, as if caught in a nightmare he couldn't wake from. His breathing was rough and uneven, and every so often, his fingers twitched, like he was struggling against something unseen.

Beside him, Vaenyra sat quietly. Her usual calm expression was gone. She held his hand gently, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow, rhythmic strokes. But even she couldn't hide the worry in her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she stared at him in silence, the faint flicker of unease breaking through her composed facade.

Thessalia finally turned to the group of healers standing nearby. "What's happening to him? Why doesn't he wake up? And why does he look like he's in anguish?"

The lead healer stepped forward, his face tight with concern. "Lady Thessalia… we've examined him multiple times. There are no wounds, no curses, no signs of poison. His mana flow is stable, his heart strong. But his mind…" he paused, hesitant, before continuing, "…his mind appears to be under immense strain. We believe the Lord is trapped within his own consciousness. That kind of wound… cannot be healed by magic. All we can do is wait for him to wake on his own."

Silence filled the tent after those words.

Thessalia's brows knit together as she looked back at Lumberling. A heaviness pressed against her chest.

'What's happening to you… Lumberling?' she thought, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the hem of her silk robes.