In the Abyss (6)
“Galan…”
Varis muttered under his breath, grinding his teeth. The moment he uttered the knight’s name, a chill raced up his spine. Cold sweat beaded on his back. The pressure radiating from the man went beyond mere intimidation—it was overwhelming. Like prey standing before a massive beast, Varis felt his entire body crushed under an immense weight. It was so intense he could barely draw breath.
“Hmph.”
Silence. Galan lowered his sword and fixed his gaze on Varis. Without a single word, that stare alone froze him in place. But Varis knew instinctively: this wasn’t bravado. It was the leisurely scrutiny of a predator sizing up its meal. Not a hint of underestimation or carelessness—the unyielding poise of a true powerhouse who allowed no mistakes from start to finish.
Just moments ago, he’d unleashed a strike powerful enough to shake the entire temple, yet Galan’s stance remained flawless. That alone made it all the more terrifying; this wasn’t some showy posturing.
Can I even escape from an opponent like this?
Varis bit his lip. Or rather, was escape even an option to begin with?
The undead can’t even set foot in a sanctuary. But that phantom knight…
This domain was Elisha’s Saint Field—a sanctuary infused with potent holy power where ordinary undead couldn’t exist. Yet Galan stood there defiantly, as if mocking the rules themselves.
That fact alone proved he wasn’t some run-of-the-mill undead.
Would someone like him let an enemy turn tail and run?
Better to fight. Varis reached his conclusion after a brief internal debate. Whether he fought or fled, death’s shadow loomed close. In that case, raising his sword was the only honorable path.
He felt the hilt grow slick with sweat in his grip.
Galan remained silent, but dark energy began to writhe around his blade like a living thing, slithering and pulsing—a testament to his overwhelming strength. It wasn’t mere mana; it was something deeper, more alien.
Varis stared at the man before him once more.
A rock and a hard place. Either choice led straight to death.
But if it was inevitable, wasn’t it better to stand and fight at least once?
Varis’s fingers tightened slowly on his sword.
“Should I stand and fight…?”
He murmured lowly. But then voices from behind made him hesitate again.
“That’s a bit reckless… My instincts are screaming at me.”
A voice laced with uncertainty. Only then did Varis realize he hadn’t consulted Eily, Elisha, or Melina.
What would they decide? Fight together, or retreat?
Charging ahead alone in this ambiguous situation would be pure folly.
“I… I have a bad feeling about fighting too…”
Elisha’s hesitant tone weighed down the air even further. It was rare for her to voice such unease.
Varis clenched his fist without thinking. Their anxiety wasn’t mere cowardice. This phantom knight, Galan, was on another level from any foe they’d faced. An instinctive sense of his crushing power. Not just undead, but something vast and immense.
“Ngh…”
Conflict tore through his mind. Then, one person flashed into his thoughts.
What would Arnold do?
He always charged forward without hesitation in a crisis, no matter how dire. If he were here…
Arnold would draw his sword without a second thought and face the phantom knight head-on.
But Varis let out a faint, bitter smile.
Could I make that choice?
Before that brief deliberation could end—
“What nonsense are you babbling?”
A fierce aura sliced through the air like wind. Galan finally drew his sword, pointing it at Varis. And with those short, crystal-clear words laced with killing intent:
“Die.”
Galan swung down casually. Yet even that single stroke cleaved the air with a blue flash. Ripples of energy tore into the floor, surging forward with terrifying speed.
It’s coming!
Varis reflexively raised his sword to brace—but
—!
Someone stepped in front of him first.
“…!”
And then—clang!
A massive metallic clash rang out, nearly splitting their eardrums. The slash hurtling toward Varis was halted mid-air. At the same time, a short, stifled groan escaped.
“…!”
Varis’s eyes widened as he recognized the figure blocking his path. Shorter than him. Neat attire blending black and white.
He knew instantly who it was.
“Eily…?!”
Even in her maid outfit, her sword stance was anything but amateurish. Her sharp gaze locked on Galan without a flicker of hesitation.
“Hah!”
Eily shouted, swinging her blade wide. In that instant, Galan’s slash dispersed like mist, vanishing into the air.
Varis blinked in disbelief. She’d nullified that mana-charged attack with a single stroke?
Eily kept her steely expression, staring down Galan. Resolve burned clear in her eyes.
“I’ve made up my mind! We’re taking down this phantom knight!”
Her shout carried unyielding determination. Her gaze never wavered from Galan, and the sword in her hand gleamed faintly, mirroring her iron will. The aura emanating from her petite frame seemed to shake the very air around them.
“When you think about it, I need to see Master as soon as possible, but we can’t just run away!”
Her voice held not just resolve, but deep longing and loyalty. No matter how formidable Galan was, she wouldn’t back down. Even before this towering wall of a phantom knight, her conviction shone bright.
And in that moment, another powerful presence surged from behind.
“Exactly. We’re here to find Arnold and Lucy, right? No backing down now!”
Elisha stepped forward. Her golden hair shimmered softly in the sanctuary’s radiant light. Normally cool and aloof, she burned hotter than anyone right now.
“And I… thanks to the scroll, I can use light-attribute magic too. It’ll definitely work.”
Faint light rippled from her fingertips. Holy energy spread out, repelling the undead aura, warming even the temple’s chill air.
She knew well how lethal light magic was to the undead.
“Same here. I can’t retreat if it means helping Arnold and Lucy!”
Melina stepped up last. Unshakable conviction filled her deep blue eyes. With elven grace, she nocked her bow and formed a magic circle. Mana gathered around her, stirring a gentle breeze.
She had no intention of fleeing this fight.
“Everyone…”
As their resolves united, the temple’s air shifted. Varis watched, lips pressed tight. He’d agonized over fighting alone at first, but now there was no need.
No more time for hesitation. He gripped his sword firmly, steeling himself.
This battle was unavoidable.
“Alright, let’s take him down together and go find Arnold—fast!”
He declared boldly, igniting the fight. Their courage and determination cut through the temple’s silence, facing Galan head-on.
The phantom knight tilted his sword silently as he regarded them. His glowing blue eyes held a mix of scorn and faint intrigue.
“Pointless struggling.”
Galan murmured lowly, raising his blade. His motion was light, but the pressure it carried was anything but.
Each step he took warped the gravity around them.
Yet Eily, Elisha, and Melina held their ground.
“No matter how strong the undead, it won’t block our path.”
Light rippled from Elisha’s fingertips. Holy mana enveloped her in a soft glow. Her eyes held no doubt, only resolve.
Eily gripped her sword until her knuckles whitened, gritting her teeth to suppress her fear.
Melina chanted quietly, a soft wind swirling around her.
As Galan lifted his sword, the temple’s candles flickered wildly, a fierce gust howling through.
For a moment, silence and tension filled the space.
Their steadfast defiance clashed with Galan’s contempt, weaving a taut suspense.
What outcome this clash would bring, no one yet knew.