"Damn... it hurts like hell..." Merlin groaned softly, pain stabbing relentlessly at his head.
The world around him began to blur, and his breathing grew weak.
"You son of a bitch! How dare you destroy my weapon!?" The blond man shouted, stepping closer in fury.
But Merlin no longer had the strength to respond. His consciousness was slipping away.
"[Ding! The host body falls into crisis! Status: danger!]"
"[Ding! The host body falls into crisis! Status: danger!]"
"[Ding! Self-protection activated automatically!]"
Nolan heard the notifications, but his body remained immobile.
In the next instant, it felt as though an invisible hand was dragging his consciousness into a pitch-black abyss.
The blond man withdrew his hand, readying another attack—but a furious voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
"Damn it! How dare a lowly creature like you attack my young master!"
The man froze. A murderous intent, vast as an ocean, surged toward him, forcing him to dodge frantically.
A second after he vanished, a violent explosion ripped through the area, followed by a sandstorm that swallowed everything around it.
The blond man stumbled back tens of meters, staring at the aftermath with sheer terror.
'Damn... who is that?' he muttered, panic in his voice.
The strength of that person was astonishing—enough to make his body tremble. As the sandstorm faded, an uneasy silence settled over the area.
Then a middle-aged man appeared.
Tall and imposing, his face was strikingly handsome, framed by a stern expression and eyes that crackled with terrifying, icy lightning.
'What an unusually powerful aura,' he murmured, swallowing hard.
Goosebumps rippled across his body, and the urge to flee became almost uncontrollable.
The middle-aged man—James—turned toward Merlin, who lay unconscious.
"Young master..." he called, his voice trembling.
Merlin's condition was dire. Blood streamed down the right side of his face, and minor cuts and bruises marked his arms and legs.
James wanted to help him immediately but held back.
There was one thing to deal with first—the man who had attacked his young master.
He spun around, and a wave of killing intent erupted from his body, striking the blond man like a battering ram.
The man collapsed, knees buckling under him. Cold sweat drenched his forehead as the agony of broken bones made him scream.
"Argh!" He tried to rise, but suddenly—
An even greater force slammed into him, sending his already weakened body crashing violently to the ground.
Bones cracked audibly, followed by a gut-wrenching cry of pain as blood trickled from his lips.
James stepped forward silently, and with each step, the pressure bearing down on the man grew heavier.
"How dare you harm my young master," he said coldly. "You have committed a sin that can never be forgiven."
Once James stood directly before him, the pressure multiplied a hundredfold, crushing the air around the man.
"Argh... Argh..." The man tried to speak, but the immense pressure emanating from James choked his throat.
The Ninth Rank Spirit Core was indeed formidable, but compared to the Third Rank Spirit Core, it was like earth against ants. Only the truly chosen and talented could reach the third level.
James' gaze sharpened, cold and piercing like a soul-cutting sword. He reached out, gripping the man's neck, and under the terrified gaze before him, began to punish him with ruthless precision.
Of course, James restrained himself, ensuring the man would not die outright. After all, the night was still long.
Meanwhile, in the distance, Lisa hurriedly closed both of Margaret's eyes and warned, "Young lady, what's ahead is very dangerous. Don't look, okay?"
Margaret didn't dare argue and simply gave a small nod. Then, remembering Merlin, she hurried toward him.
The moment she saw his pitiful state, tears streamed down her cheeks.
For the first time, she could finally call out the boy's name. Earlier, she had not known it, and that ignorance had filled her with regret.
She crouched down, gently wiping Merlin's bloodied face. Her chest ached as if hundreds of knives were tearing through it at once.
"Hiks... hiks..." A sob escaped her lips as she gently wiped the blood from his face.
She had always been afraid of blood, haunted by a past trauma that was hard to heal.
Yet, inexplicably, her fear melted away, for the blood she wiped belonged to the boy before her.
Standing behind her, Lisa remained silent, letting out a small sigh. This was the first time she had seen her young lady cry for someone outside the family.
That could only mean one thing—this boy was extremely precious to her.
But on second thought, it wasn't surprising. Her young lady had never had friends, let alone anyone she trusted completely.
'What a lucky boy—no, maybe it's the young lady who's lucky,' Lisa muttered with a small chuckle.
Walking over, she gently patted Margaret's shoulder. "Let me take a look, young lady. Perhaps I can help."
Margaret gave a small nod and carefully laid Merlin's head down, then stepped back.
Lisa crouched beside him and pressed her right palm against his chest.
A faint green glow flowed from her hand, seeping into Merlin's body and spreading slowly. A moment later, Lisa withdrew her hand and let out a long breath.
Seeing this, Margaret's anxiety intensified. "Is Merlin alright?"
Lisa gave a small smile and nodded. "Yes, he's fine. Don't worry."
Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. But... you can heal him, right?"
Lisa directed the spirit within herself into Merlin's body, restoring him gently.
When a swordsman reached the Seventh Level of Awakening, they could harness the pure energy within their body—called spirit—to heal wounds, both their own and those of others.
This ability, however, was only effective for minor injuries. Fortunately, Merlin's wounds had not yet become severe, so they could still be healed.
A few minutes later, the wounds on Merlin's body vanished. Margaret felt herself relax and looked at Lisa with a grateful gaze.
"Thank you, Lisa," she said softly.
Lisa nodded slowly. "You're welcome, young lady. But..." Follow current novels on 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝙣𝙚𝙩
A playful smirk curved her lips as she teased, "This is the first time you've ever thanked me on behalf of someone else. I am truly honored."
Margaret's face, even beneath her mask, turned as red as a tomato. She had nothing to say—Lisa's words were completely true.
To hide her embarrassment, she changed the subject. "So, when will he wake up?"
Her gaze grew worried as she stared at Merlin, still unconscious.
Lisa rose to her feet and replied, "In a few hours, he should regain consciousness."
Margaret bit her lower lip and nodded slowly. "I... understand..."