This man will not choose death.

Jonn observed the look on Serrell’s face and doubted that Yeoman Ferry’s mage ally would proceed with the fight after the ultimatum issued by the white-haired old man.

The other mage isn’t in a terrible state, but he’s not at his peak either. As for Serrell, he is nearly exhausted. He probably won’t be able to cast any of his {Spells}… And if he does, they likely won’t be at their full strength.

A decision presented itself to Jonn, and he embraced it, feeling his surroundings more intensely, his heart pounding as he noticed the beads of sweat slowly dripping from the men in his path.

His eyes caught the hair on the faces of the two mages, and he sensed the breathing of the men with their mouths open; one moaning slightly as he struggled for air, while the other seemed calmer, though breathing rapidly.

Both displayed weaknesses that were visible through the lens of the magnifying glass. Jonn noticed that the white-bearded mage had some kind of issue with one of his knees, while the other mage would probably succumb to some internal injury.

He stepped forward and mentally commanded Ice.

The [Wildheart Talisman] sprang to life, and the white wolf, keenly observing the unfolding situation, sensed his master’s intention even before catching sight of Jonn. Ice readied himself by unsheathing his claws and fixing his gaze on Serrell, poised for the signal to strike.

The two men remained oblivious to any other presence in the vicinity, their attention fixed on each other. One contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead, while the other afforded his opponent a moment to deliberate.

Serrell’s lips parted as he relinquished his weapon—an intricately crafted staff adorned with exquisite crystals and striking metalwork.

The old mage’s lips curved into a smile, allowing his spell to wane as he witnessed his adversary’s apparent surrender. He lowered one hand, causing the vibrant orange chains to lose their essence, collapsing to the ground as inert black links devoid of their magical potency.

“You’ve made a wise choice…” The old man began, but his words were cut short as Serrell’s eyes widened in alarm, fixating on a third figure launching an assault from behind the elderly mage.

“That…” Serrell stumbled backward in a desperate attempt to escape, sensing a magical maneuver from the unexpected newcomer.

Bewildered by Serrell’s actions, the old man turned his head slightly, detecting an Acolyte’s mana activating some {Spell} at his back. His expression of confidence faltered, eyes narrowing as he swiftly regained control of his mana, breathing life back into the cursed chains surrounding him.

As the elderly mage pivoted to confront the masked, white-haired assailant, he beheld a colossal palm of air and mana, dwarfing his own frame, hurtling towards him from an unexpected angle. The ethereal hand targeted his legs with uncanny precision.

The old mage’s cursed chains, now pulsating with renewed magical energy, ascended into the air. However, despite his efforts, the old man couldn’t maneuver them swiftly enough to thwart the mysterious mage’s onslaught.

“Aaagh!”

The agonized cry didn’t emanate from the old man, but from Serrell.

Witnessing his master spring into action, Ice lunged at the fallen mage, aiming to sink his fangs into the enemy’s throat!

Serrell evaded the lethal bite intended for his neck, but in doing so, inadvertently offered one of his arms to Ice’s waiting maw.

Serrell’s screams of anguish pierced the air as Ice savored the taste of his blood, pulverizing the bones in his arm while simultaneously shredding his torso with razor-sharp front claws.

In his agony, Serrell spat curses at everyone present, not sparing even Yeoman Ferry. Severely weakened and with his mana reserves depleted, he recognized the inexorable approach of his demise.

In Serrell’s final moments, his gaze drifted towards the old mage. He witnessed the enemy’s palm collide with Count Javis’ mage, throwing the elderly man off-balance and sending him crashing to the ground, his aged features contorted in pain.

Jonn targeted the white-haired old man’s injured knee with a precise strike. The blow toppled his opponent, inflicting the exact agony Jonn had hoped would grant him an edge against a higher-level adversary.

Jonn observed his adversary’s fall with keen eyes, and in a heartbeat, two gleaming knives materialized in his hands. He manipulated the blades with terrifying precision, launching them with such blinding speed that an ordinary observer would have struggled to discern the movement of his hands.

The mage collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony as he felt the resurgence of an old battle wound—one that had stubbornly resisted healing, despite his heightened mana level and regenerative factor. As he lay injured, he teetered on the brink of losing control over his cursed chains, clinging desperately to the last vestiges of his rationality.

The vibrant orange chains, imbued with an eerie sentience, undulated through the air like ethereal serpents. They swiftly coalesced to form impenetrable shields, intercepting the trajectory of the two knives hurled at the fallen mage.

Jonn pivoted, his eyes widening as he witnessed his attack thwarted. In the same instant, he saw the enemy’s cursed chains lash out towards him with lethal intent.

The old man’s lips moved, uttering words in an arcane language incomprehensible to Jonn. No sooner had the mysterious incantation ceased than Jonn felt an unsettling transformation beneath his feet. Glancing down, he was struck by an alarming sight; the once-solid ground had morphed into a roiling, muddy morass.

Suddenly, one of the murky bubbles erupted, belching forth a plume of scalding gas that engulfed Jonn. The noxious fumes sent a bone-chilling shudder coursing through his body, a stark reminder of the perilous magic he now faced.

{Spell!} Tsk!

With lightning-fast reflexes, Jonn propelled himself out of the treacherous terrain, his lithe form arcing through the air before landing deftly on a nearby rock. His swift movement allowed him to narrowly evade the enemy’s vicious counterattack.

As Jonn found solid footing beyond the reach of the fallen mage’s arcane influence, Ice delivered the coup de grâce to Serrell. The white wolf, his muzzle stained crimson, fixed his piercing gaze upon the old mage sprawled on the ground.

Ice launched into action, his form blurring as he charged towards the enemy with breathtaking velocity.

A triumphant smile played across Jonn’s lips as he recognized the perfect opportunity. He summoned the [Searing Spear] from his ring, the weapon rapidly materializing in his grasp.

The spear’s tip blazed with an intense, fiery orange glow that rivaled the radiance of the enemy’s cursed chains. It emanated a searing heat so intense that it warped the very air around it, creating shimmering distortions in its wake.

Moving with fluid grace, as if engaged in an intricate dance with the weapon, Jonn infused the [Searing Spear] with his mana. He wove between the surrounding rocks, closing the distance to the old mage with each step.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The acolyte found himself caught in a deadly pincer, besieged on two fronts. On one side, a blood-jawed wolf approached with murderous intent gleaming in its eyes. On the other, a mage advanced, wielding a terrifying weapon.

Already in dire straits and weakened from his previous grueling battle, the old man’s predicament worsened. The throbbing wound on his knee demanded a portion of his focus, leaving him capable of mounting a defense against only one of the impending threats.

In a split-second decision, he chose to defend against the unknown mage and the man’s mystical spear!

The cursed chains lashed out towards Jonn, their orange glow leaving trails of light in the air. They struck the ground where he had just been, pulverizing stone into dust, before whipping back towards him with renewed vigor. Every time Jonn experienced a near miss, he was confronted with the actual possibility of his own mortality.

Jonn felt the enemy’s chains striving to halt his advance, their ethereal links whistling past him with hair’s breadth precision.

The displaced air from their passage caressed his skin, a chilling reminder of how close he’d come to being struck.

His eyes widened as he witnessed the boulder he’d just vaulted from crumbling under a single, devastating blow from the glowing chains. Jonn swallowed hard. A direct hit from those chains could cost him a limb—or worse.

Jonn changed his strategy mid-stride. As the next cursed chain hurtled towards him, intent on knocking him to the ground, he met it head-on with his weapon.

Spear and chain collided in a spectacular clash of magic and metal. At the point of impact, both weapons flared with intensified brilliance, their competing energies creating a discordant, metallic shriek that reverberated through the air.

Jonn felt the raw power of the enemy’s attack course through his body. His muscles screamed in protest, burning with the effort of holding his ground. His hands, still gripping the spear, throbbed with such intensity that every fiber of his being urged him to relinquish his hold on the weapon.

The spear tilted back slightly under the relentless pressure, a clear warning that if Jonn wavered even for a moment, the chain would break through his defense and strike him down.

But Jonn was nothing if not stubborn!

[Mana Manipulation]!

-20 Mana

The ambient mana surrounding Jonn stirred, coalescing into a swirling vortex that enveloped his body. At his silent command, the ethereal energy surged towards the spear, infusing it with newfound power.

Had the old mage not been preoccupied with fending off Ice’s relentless assault, he would have been astounded to witness an opponent manipulating ambient mana with such finesse, seamlessly enhancing his combat prowess mid-battle.

Jonn’s spear, now pulsing with concentrated mana, ceased its backward motion. It stood firm, defying the enemy attack.

But the fight didn’t end there. The cursed chains, as if possessing a malevolent intelligence, adapted to their situation. While one chain remained locked in combat with the spear, another lashed out with whip-like speed, targeting Jonn’s exposed abdomen.

[Air Palm]!

-40 Mana

Jonn’s fast reaction manifested a shield of compressed air, momentarily halting the chain’s advance. In that split second of reprieve, he felt rather than saw his spear pierce the chain above him. A cacophony of crackling energy erupted from the point where their weapons collided.

The segment of the old mage’s magical weapon that had been struck abruptly lost its otherworldly glow, clattering lifelessly to the ground. The remaining chains flickered, their radiance noticeably dimmed.

Jonn pressed forward, setting his sights on the second of the three lasting chains. This time, his attack met with less resistance, cleaving through that construct with relative ease.

By now, the terrain had reverted to its original state. The old mage, once a formidable opponent, was now a gruesome sight—his robes saturated with blood, his screams of agony piercing the air. His focus had shifted dramatically; no longer intent on repelling Jonn with {Spells}, he now struggled against the wolf tearing into his flesh.

“Aaaaaggh!”

The old mage’s cries of torment were almost unbearable to hear. Gone was the image of a dignified sorcerer; in its place writhed a creature more akin to a dying animal. His body, now grotesquely misshapen, trembled violently as life-sustaining blood gushed from his many wounds.

Jonn watched as the remaining chains in his path flickered and faded, their magical essence dissipating like smoke. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards the spot where the old man lay prone, with Ice administering the enemies’s end.

Ice had taken quite a beating from the mage, with needles piercing at least three parts of his body, a broken paw, and a puncture wound to his abdomen. Still, the beast made it a point to take the life of the old mage, taking the light from the eyes of the man who would die looking up at the opaque sky covered in smoke and fog that night.

In his final moments, the mage found no opportunity to utter threats or divulge any crucial information. As his life force ebbed away, Jonn observed the unique magical essence that had defined the old man’s power dissolve into nothingness. The disappearance of this signature allowed the white-haired young man to finally draw a deep, relieved breath.

+2 progress points in the [Save the Eternal Village] quest!

[Quests] [Progress] [Save the Eternal Village] 4/20 -2

Jonn paid little heed to Ice as the wolf abandoned the old mage’s lifeless form, settling nearby to await his master’s next move. The young mage’s gaze avoided the gruesome spectacle of his fallen opponent’s eviscerated body. Instead, his mind raced, contemplating the unexpected developments following his actions in Littlewood.

It would be good if I had a better idea of what would help me progress. I just did what I thought was right tonight, but one action took away points and the other gave me points...

If only I had a clearer understanding of what truly aids my progress, Jonn mused silently. I acted on instinct tonight, yet one decision cost me points while another granted them… Perhaps it’s futile to seek a pattern. Maybe it’s not my choices that determine the mission’s success, but the circumstances? Or possibly the ripple effects caused by those connected to the Eternal Village?

With a weary sigh, Jonn kneeled beside the old mage’s corpse, collecting any notable resources before moving on to the other fallen mage.

Ice, though battered, would survive. His injuries would impose some short-term limitations but posed no mortal threat. After gathering the belongings of both mages, Jonn gently extracted the needles embedded in Ice’s flesh and tended to the most severe of the wolf’s wounds.

Cradling the injured beast in his arms, Jonn mounted Windy, who had approached them once the danger had subsided.

“Let’s go back to the village,” he murmured to the horse, which set off at a measured pace, more encumbered now than during their initial journey.

Fortunately, Windy possessed ample [Constitution] and [Stamina] to bear both Jonn and Ice without requiring rest for a couple of hours.

As they traveled through the night, Jonn examined the items procured from the fallen mages. With Ice nestled securely before him and Windy’s steady gait, he allowed himself to relax. The cool night air soothed his battle-worn body, bringing a sense of calm after the chaos.

Jonn deliberately ignored the ongoing skirmishes on the outskirts of the charred estate, indifferent to the outcome of the conflict he had set in motion. Having achieved his objectives, he felt no compulsion to linger or intervene further.

With his plans successfully executed, he had no intention of leaving the village anytime soon!