Chapter 51: Clash in the Shadows

Ross—and Darryl?

How did these two cross paths?

Recalling the room’s chaos, I pieced together a likely scenario—

Ross and Darryl met here by chance, then someone smashed the window, fleeing outside—

I didn’t grasp the reason, but to Kritiya, neither was a friend.

Ross’s deeds spoke for themselves.

Darryl, though, was somewhat wronged.

In a calmer setting, things wouldn’t have escalated this far with Kritiya.

Kritiya hid behind the window, watching their movements.

The half-elf warrior glared at the black mage lurking in the shadows, tension thick as drawn blades.

It made sense—Darryl, ambushed by Ross’s lackey before, wouldn’t let it slide.

“You madwoman…”

Ross muttered, his hoarse voice drifting from under his dark hood.

“Attacking without a word…”

“What’re you sneaking around here for?”

Darryl held no weapon, only a gleaming dagger gripped backward, her body taut like a drawn bowstring.

The black mage, though, seemed uninterested in fighting, glancing around absently, as if eyeing an escape.

“Tch… at a time like this.”

Ross stepped back.

Darryl advanced warily:

“Speak, or you’re not leaving!”

“Ha, you really want to fight here?”

Ross’s tone dripped with mockery.

Darryl, unsure of his game, held back.

“Scared, are you?”

“No, I just think you’re a fool.”

I couldn’t help but wonder—Ross seemed oddly passive.

If he’d known Kritiya’s trail, why wait until she was outside the city to strike?

Before I could sort it out, Darryl lost patience, launching a probing attack.

The black mage’s robe fluttered as he tried to retreat.

At this range, Darryl, a warrior, had the clear edge.

I saw Ross raise his hand, attempting a spell, but each time Darryl’s blade flashed, he dodged clumsily.

This was stranger still—

I thought, Ross’s usual tactic was to bait foes with his body, luring them into mistakes.

Why did Darryl’s dagger unsettle him so?

“As expected…”

Darryl sneered, saying:

“You’re skulking like that—you’re injured, aren’t you?”

“Tch!”

Ross didn’t reply, but a flicker of irritation crossed his face.

Their words reached me, and I froze.

For a black mage like Ross, whose body was likely warped by dark magic, could mere physical wounds bother him this much?

Or—could his power’s source, the evil god’s seed, be damaged, slow to heal?

If so—who caused it?

No doubt, the half-elf warrior held the advantage now.

I watched the scene closely.

Darryl, with just a dagger, wove an airtight defense.

In a few exchanges, Ross took several cuts, his steps faltering—

A normal mage, without spells at this range, would fall to a warrior in moments.

But Ross’s dark-magic-altered body defied normal limits.

As Darryl pressed her attack, nearly overwhelming him, the black mage spun abruptly.

His black robe billowed, seizing a moment to breathe.

He flung an object.

Darryl dodged, reading its path.

I saw clearly—Ross had thrown a small, rune-etched iron piece—

A magical talisman!

Like a simplified spell scroll, it could cast basic tricks swiftly.

Ross muttered a chant.

I braced for the spell’s effect.

Darryl leaped forward to widen the gap, but the talisman hit the ground, glowing faintly, then spewed black smoke.

No grand magic—just a simple smoke trick.

Yet Ross slipped into the darkness, and a stronger magical pulse surged from the fog—

I saw his plan: he was buying time to cast a spell!

“No way you’ll succeed!”

Darryl sneered, her sharp elf ears twitching, catching faint sounds.

She swung her arm, hurling the dagger.

Did it hit?

From Kritiya’s spot, the black fog hid the outcome, but I doubted a dagger through Ross would do much.

The gleaming blade pierced the fog, drawing an annoyed grunt from Ross.

Then, thick tentacles erupted from the mist.

Ugh—Ross’s usual trick.

Dark magic took countless forms, yet he clung to these vile tentacles.

Some odd fetish, maybe?

After all the trouble, he’d finally unleashed them.

The black tentacles, adorned with eerie patterns, grew wildly like plants, starting wrist-thin, swelling to several feet thick in moments.

They whipped through the air, covering nearly ten yards.

“Ugh!”

Darryl’s expression froze briefly.

The tentacles thrashed madly, and she darted between them, trying to reach the fog’s source.

Unarmed now, she could only dodge.

Boom!

Their fight wasn’t far from the street, practically in the market.

Ross’s tentacles roared, smashing the ground like thunder.

Romern’s laws banned superhuman brawls in the city, though enforcement was lax, unable to curb bold rogues.

But this noise would soon draw the city guard—

Boom!

Another deafening crash—tentacles struck the wooden house’s foundation.

The building swayed, dust falling amid creaking timbers.

Residents woke, shouting in panic—

Kritiya, watching silently, stood.

She drew the twin swords from her cloak, leaning by the broken window, and shouted:

“Catch!”

Her voice cut through the chaos, catching Darryl’s attention.

Kritiya aimed, arms swinging, hurling the two longswords—Darryl’s own—high into the air.

“Nice!”

Darryl’s voice rose with a thrill of joy.

She became a swift shadow, stepping onto a tentacle, using its recoil to leap.

Her hand caught the swords mid-air.

Still airborne, two tentacles struck like vipers, but Darryl didn’t dodge this time.

Her sword-wielding arms spread like wings, slicing through the air with a piercing whistle.