What… What kind of magic did he just use? Luscelt wondered, staring at Master who was merely smiling serenely.
Luscelt had always relied on his physical strength to kill his enemies. The undead body was tough and didn’t require the use of weapons or the learning of magic. As a result, he couldn’t identify the spell Master had just cast.
Damn. If only Ild were here, things would be different…
Ild, a cowardly but knowledgeable man, would have been useful now. Luscelt had already given orders to Ild and the other two commanders to kill the members of Yerkchira. They were skilled enough to accomplish this task, and they would undoubtedly return with the heads of their targets.
Therefore, it was crucial for Luscelt to kill Master here and now. Even if his subordinates succeeded, it would be meaningless if he himself failed. He needed to prove his strength as the guildmaster of Heinichen.
“Come at me!” Luscelt roared, glaring at Master with intense focus. He exuded a thick killing intent, hoping to paralyze Master with fear. Based on the earlier fight, Master seemed to prefer close combat, much like Luscelt himself.
By overwhelming Master with his killing intent, Luscelt intended to immobilize him and land a decisive blow. He tightened his fist, ready to strike.
“Huh?”
Master defied his expectations effortlessly. With a sharp punch, Master sliced through the air. A crisp sound echoed as Luscelt felt a powerful shock and was knocked onto his backside. Looking at his right arm, he saw that it was no longer there.
“Aaaaagh!” Luscelt screamed.
With his eyes and mouth wide open, Luscelt screamed in agony. Was it the invisible attack that made him scream? No, it was something else that had shocked him to the core.
“Wh-What was that…?”
“Pressure punch…” Soulgros muttered, recognizing the technique.
It was a skill where one delivered a sharp punch, projecting the impact onto a distant target. This technique usually required a lifetime of training for those with a natural talent for close combat.
Soulgros was astonished that Master, who appeared so young, could use such an advanced technique. Though she knew Master had lived far beyond a normal human lifespan, so her surprise quickly subsided.
Still, to think he can use a pressure punch… it’s unbelievable, Soulgross thought.
Among those Soulgros knew, only Leiss, the muscle-brained combat maniac, and possibly Vampille, could use such a technique. Master had never seemed like someone who would resort to such brute-force tactics.
“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it huuurtsss!” Luscelt screamed, clutching the severed stump of his arm. His eyes bulged in agony.
The true horror Luscelt experienced was not just the loss of his arm but the excruciating pain emanating from the wound.
“Why?! Why does it hurt?! I’m undead!”
As an undead, Luscelt had never felt pain from any attack. Not knowing pain had allowed him to kill ruthlessly and brutally. Now, for the first time in his existence, he was experiencing true suffering.
“But… I have self-healing!” Luscelt screamed, desperately willing his body to heal. He believed that once the wound closed, the pain would vanish.
However, as the moments passed, a grim realization settled in. His wound wasn’t healing as expected.
“H-Hey. What’s happening…?”
Luscelt’s panic grew. Despite his belief in his regenerative abilities, the wound remained open, and the pain persisted.
The fellkin realized another horrifying change occurring within him.
“Why isn’t my self-healing working?!” he screamed.
Blood continued to pour from the wound on his severed arm, and no matter how much he willed it, the wound refused to close. As an undead, healing such an injury should have been a simple matter, even if reattaching the arm took a bit longer. But now, the bleeding wouldn’t stop, and the pain was relentless.
“A magic that blocks self-healing and inflicts pain on those who don’t normally feel it, perhaps…” Soulgros speculated, observing the situation.
It seemed likely that the spell Master had cast on himself was precisely that—a combination of magic to prevent regeneration and induce pain.
“Is there such magic?” Soulgros murmured, momentarily dropping all the ninja pretenses, fascination taking over.
“Damn it!! What did you do to me?! What the hell did you do?!” Luscelt roared, his eyes wild with fury, spittle flying from his mouth.
Despite the intense killing intent and anger radiating from Luscelt, enough to make even seasoned knights or adventurers faint, Master remained calm, smiling faintly without a bead of sweat on his brow.
“Hic!”
For the first time in his existence, Luscelt was consumed by fear. If Master had been merely strong, Luscelt might have felt anger but not fear. In a prolonged battle, his undead nature would have given him an advantage. But Master was an enigma. His overwhelming power and incomprehensible magic had turned the tide, preventing Luscelt’s regeneration and causing him to feel pain.
Unable to understand or predict Master’s capabilities, Luscelt was terrified. This inexplicable power and mastery over unknown magic had left him paralyzed with fear.
“Raaaahhh!” he screamed, driven by a desperate mixture of fear and rage.
Overwhelmed by fear, Luscelt made a desperate decision: he charged directly at Master with a punch. This was not a mere act of suicide; it was an undead being pushing beyond its limits, harnessing inhuman strength. With his left fist clenched tightly, Luscelt’s strike could have shattered even the hardest metal golem. As the master of the Heinichen guild, Luscelt was displaying his ultimate power in this final moments.
It was all in vain against Master.
A heavy thud echoed through the air.
This sound came from Luscelt’s exposed left side, where Master’s sharp kick connected before Luscelt’s punch could land. Coincidentally or intentionally, the kick was eerily similar to the one Luscelt had used to send Soulgros flying into the lake. The difference was in the force behind it. While Soulgros was merely knocked back, Master’s kick completely tore Luscelt’s torso apart.
Luscelt fell, defeated, as his body crumpled to the ground. Master had ended the fight effortlessly, leaving no doubt about his overwhelming strength.