Riding the momentum of his descent from the sky, he was like a ferocious large bird with its talons fully extended, tearing through layer after layer of crimson.
With a proficiency level surpassing a hundred in the [Charging Weapon—Power of Break Magic], master-level [Basic Swordsmanship], coupled with the activation of [Clear Sky Realm], and master-level composure...
Ronan’s eyes were a deep blue, and in his hand, the black longsword enhanced by the Flame of Break Magic easily tore through the young Black Robe’s spiritual power force field, instantly closing in on him.
The young Black Robe hastily triggered a pale red energy shield, but it burst like a bubble in less than a second.
The longsword pierced the young and vibrant body of the young Black Robe, driving him to the ground with a look of anger and horror in his eyes!
Upon landing, Ronan fiercely stomped on the young Black Robe’s body, using the momentum to leap upwards again. Holding the longsword now withdrawn, he pointed a pale hand at the young Black Robe from beneath his billowing robe.
In an instant, a myriad of mystic energies swarmed in, weaving together an unprecedentedly terrifying magic domain force field.
Exactly forty-five pure black energy particles formed, creating a torrential force sweeping downwards...
Compared to his apprentice days, the now Official Wizard Level Ronan’s casting of this spell had increased in strength by more than tenfold!
The forest floor shook violently, with huge waves of energy residual flowing like high-pressure streams, flinging droplets and upturning large swaths of grass and soil...
When all the commotion settled, barely anything remained where the young Black Robe had lain, except for a shocking mess and a deep crater in the center.
Ronan stood in the same spot, narrowing his eyes at the crater, slowly sheathing his longsword at his waist, and whispered:
"Only the dead are truly worthless."
Having said that, Ronan took two steps forward, sweeping the surroundings with his spiritual power in search of any traces left by the young Black Robe.
Unfortunately, the [Energy Missile—Particle Torrent] was as ruthless as ever, leaving behind nothing but some residual blood and scattered bone fragments.
"If only I could get his waist storage bag... Perhaps I’d find an inheritance of a First Rank Magic within."
Ronan sighed lightly, "Even if it’s from the Black Robe Blood Series."
His most pressing desire was to quickly strengthen his own power, with the urgency making him somewhat "desperate."
Suddenly, Ronan remembered a peculiar box in his waist storage bag, one that could only be opened by an Official Wizard, given by Linus.
Just as he was about to take a look, "Whoosh—"
A sharp piercing sound and a sudden chill emerged from the depths of Ronan’s heart.
Instinctively twisting his body, the longsword under his robe was once again in his hand, he raised it to slash, dodge, and block...
Several blurry shadows streaked towards him like suddenly launched spears. They passed where Ronan stood just a moment ago, clinking as they collided, then quickly retracting and disappearing...
Ronan, somewhat disheveled, rolled aside and, supporting himself on the longsword, knelt on the ground.
A slight stinging sensation came from his cheek; it was a cut from just a moment ago.
Ronan gently wiped the warm stream of blood from his cheek, his gaze fixed on a specific spot in front of him.
Something silently slid out from the brush, and Ronan finally saw what had attacked him.
It was several thick, dark green vines, each covered with black thorns, like fierce, grotesque pythons continuously exuding a cold murderous intent.
Ronan’s expression was startled, and the next second, he saw a slender female figure stepping out from behind the vines.
Seaweed-like green hair, bizarre tattoos on both cheeks, green eyes, and an air of madness and resentment emanating from her...
Ronan’s expression quickly soured.
"Who the hell let this mad dog out again..."
Under the murky sky tainted with blood, two figures rapidly flew over the wilderness.
The strong wind blew through Jerome’s short hair, his stern face etched with gravity and concern.
Even while being propelled forward by the flying magic tool, Jerome’s gaze lingered on the direction of the academy.
It wasn’t until they neared the edge of the forest that Jerome turned his gaze forward.
"Hoddam... is finished."
He uttered with a heavy voice.
The beautiful female wizard in a grey-blue magic robe looked disheartened, grinding her teeth, "Those madmen in the Silent Forest, unable to obtain Nephilim’s Key for themselves, actually revealed the information to the Crimson Tower..."
"It’s likely that the Crimson Tower found out on their own. After all, this war has lasted too long..."
Jerome shook his head, his expression calming down. He looked towards the forest, sensing the faint energy fluctuations coming from there, "The dean is holding back most of the Crimson Tower’s power alone, it looks like she’s prepared to use the Unscathed Wood...
She told us to take Lola and then meet her at the Thorn Palace."
The beautiful witch nodded, then with a troubled and helpless expression, she sighed, "I really worry that we might not even be able to forcibly take Lola away."