Magician in Type-Moon

Page 235

Wooden branches cracked beneath her feet with a dull snapping sound. Irmia's body spun in the air, as if gravity had no effect on her.

She used the fulcrum of her kick to complete a graceful moon flip.

Then, with unparalleled force, her heel slammed heavily onto another branch.

Surprisingly strong.

That suppleness and agility, that exceptional sense of balance and technique, belong to the pinnacle of carnivores and humans, respectively.

The branch let out a low growl as it was crushed under the weight.

Irmia barely paused, landing firmly on her feet. She then squatted down abruptly, sweeping her long leg horizontally to shatter even more demonic branches.

The branches that were rushing towards the crowd snapped off.

As Hansa's gaze settled on the trees at the source, a sudden glint appeared in the corner of his eye—his eyes widened in disbelief.

The tree branch that had been cut off actually started moving again!

The snake-like twisting branch shot straight toward Irmia's throat.

The timing was extremely clever, and the undefendable angle made the attack fatal.

Just as the branch was pierced, a dark shadow flashed by like lightning, and Calleber's black key struck it down with perfect precision.

“I’ve said it before, these things should be dealt with according to the standards of the Dead Apostles,” Calleber reminded him in a deep voice.

His next move was like a dark storm, instantly sweeping across the entire battlefield.

Then, the continuous slashes severed the eerie tree branches one by one without stopping.

His movements showed no signs of aging, and his free-moving body displayed a ferocity that even wild beasts could not match.

Caleb's figure moved through the snow-covered forest like a black gust of wind.

Snowflakes drifted down, and black blades danced.

Just like the scar etched on his cheek, it vividly and dynamically depicts his full-force sprint.

Irmia followed closely behind, and before she knew it, her hands and feet were covered in gray armor.

Several streaks of purple lightning emanated from the surface of the armor, which were most likely the effect of some kind of curse hidden inside the armor—the effect of old paper pieces peeking out from the gaps.

The demonic branches, which disregarded ordinary attacks, showed no signs of revival after being struck by that armor.

The standard equipment used by the agents of the Holy Church.

Named Ash Ingot—it normally mimics ordinary gloves or boots, but by sliding a pre-set piece of paper, it will revert to its original state as a conceptual weapon.

Gray ingots are much easier to use than black keys, making them the preferred equipment for many quest providers.

“I have no experience fighting with the Dead Apostles, so ignorance is no excuse,” Sister Irmia said with a shrug.

"How did you become an Agent if you've never fought against the Dead Apostles? Or are you the illegitimate daughter of some high-ranking member of the church?"

Hansa glanced at her, casually tossed out a black key, extinguished a branch that was trying to peek out from the corner, and incidentally activated his innate talent—a sharp tongue.

Skill: Venomous Tongue: The effect is to strike at the hearts of teammates and increase the team's rage by 30%.

Although Hansa was just making a thoughtless joke, he then saw Sister Irmia's murderous gaze and awkwardly stopped the outburst that was about to spill out.

They fell silent to avoid adding fuel to the fire.

Sensing the subtle shift in the atmosphere, Wen Bingyongli broke the silence at the opportune moment and took over the conversation, changing the subject:

"The conceptual weapon you're using is gray ingots, isn't it? Looks like you specialize in dealing with undead?"

Sister Irmia glanced at it and replied irritably, "That's right, I'm in charge of looking after the cemetery."

After saying that, she glared fiercely at Hansa.

Immediately following her steps, lightning and the sound of impact rang out exactly five times.

Sister Irmia impatiently brushed a few crumbs off her head, snorted through her nose, and turned away.

"Alright, this is just a test. Come on, this way."

Calleber's black priestly robes fluttered in the wind. He said nothing, but continued to silently lead the group forward, along the dangerous path covered in ice and snow, toward the depths of their target.

He seemed very experienced, which gave people some confidence in the operation.

Sister Irmia clenched her fist, nodded her chin, and then followed.

The further you go, the narrower the ski trails become, reinforcing the impression that the area resembles a twisted forest.

The cold air clung tightly to my skin, as if an invisible hand was slowly seeping into my clothes, pressing down on every inch of my skin.

Wen Bingyongli silently felt the pressure on her shoulders and adjusted her breathing slightly.

He gripped his dagger tightly in his hand, its blade gleaming coldly against the backdrop of the white snow.

Caleb walked steadily at the front, his black keys pointing forward from time to time, as if he were carefully sensing the dangers lurking around him.

Sister Irmia walked lightly in the middle of the group, her movements as agile as ever despite the biting cold.

Hansa walked at the back, glancing back every now and then to make sure there was nothing unusual happening.

The further we went, the deeper the snow became, and with each step, the sound of our feet sinking into the snow grew increasingly muffled.

A strong wind, carrying fine snowflakes, swept over us, obscuring our vision and making us feel as if we were in an endless white fog.

As they ventured deeper, everyone sensed that these terrain features were some kind of man-made creation, revealing the creator's intentions, or rather, malice.

That is why, with each step taken, a chilling sensation, as if being swallowed into someone's guts, would violently assault them.

The ground beneath their feet suddenly collapsed.

But Calleber had already blocked everyone behind him.

Wen Bingyongli squatted down, grabbed a handful of snow that had already solidified into clumps, and gently rubbed the snow she had grabbed with her fingertips.

"It looks like just a pit covered by snow, but it shouldn't be something naturally formed. Is it a trap? If it's this kind of thing, it's really boring."

After a moment of silence, he casually tossed a chunk of snow into the exposed pit at his feet. He heard a deep echo, indicating that the pit was not shallow.

"But how did you figure that out, Mr. Calleber?"

After standing up, Wenbing Yongli suddenly asked a question, without putting away the short sword in her hand. Instead, she gripped the hilt even tighter.

Chapter 295 Suspicion

Wen Bingyongli's doubts are not without reason.

All four present were agents, and among the top combatants in the Holy Church.

One should be extremely sensitive to unusual omens, especially in an environment filled with danger, where any slight anomaly could determine life or death.

However, in this eerie icy forest, the four people's perception abilities were gradually compressed to their limits.

The chill in the air seemed to be more than just the harshness of the weather; it was like some kind of invisible barrier, gradually stripping away their senses.

The howling of the wind and snow is no longer just a natural sound, but an echo with a certain magic, confusing one's sense of direction and even making one doubt whether one is really moving forward.

However, Calleber was able to stop in his tracks and sense the danger before anyone else noticed.

This is extremely unreasonable and abnormal in front of everyone.

Especially since the other party was the leader of this operation.

Calleber's reaction was too sharp, even a beat faster than those magicians who relied solely on perception magic.

In the eyes of people like them, this has gone beyond the scope of being an agent.

Especially since the other side didn't bring out any conceptual Mystic Codes with a similar function.

It's like a black person standing out too much in a group of white people.

Although Calleber was originally a Black man...

"You seem to have anticipated this?" Wen Bingyongli finally couldn't help but speak up. Although her tone was calm, her slightly narrowed eyes revealed a hint of vigilance.

Calleber stopped and turned around, his gaze slowly sweeping over Moon Byung-yong-ri and the others.

Even when the other three expressed their doubts, his expression remained unchanged, and his tone remained calm and composed.

"It's just a clever use of past vision."

That's what they say, but observing and utilizing past situations is indeed...

It sounds like a reasonable explanation, but no one knows anything about the condition of the old man's magical eye.

Wen Bingyongli didn't press the matter further, but the unease in her heart lingered.

Calleber's reaction was so perfect that it made him feel as if... someone had known about the traps beforehand.

Hansa chuckled coldly and muttered to himself, "The Demon Eye is quite a convenient excuse."

He raised his head, lazily glanced at the snow and forest in front of him, and a barely perceptible glint flashed in his eyes.

"However, since you say this is a trap, shouldn't we discuss why the son of Fuhailin lured us here?"

Calleber remained expressionless, but his gaze was fixed on the distance, as if he were deep in thought.

“Perhaps we weren’t ‘lured here,’ but rather… trapped here,” Irmia suddenly spoke, her tone tinged with wariness.

"Trapped us?" Wen Bingyongli was slightly taken aback, then frowned. "If that's the case, then the son of Fuhailin won't wait any longer."

Before he could finish speaking, the snow beneath his feet suddenly began to tremble violently.

The snow-covered trees behind them began to twist and turn. The seemingly still branches suddenly seemed to come alive, spreading and enveloping them.

"Oh no, don't stop."

Calleber shouted.

His meaning was obvious.

More branches of death were swarming up from behind the group.

The branches intertwined in a complex and dense manner, like raging waves dispersing the snow, making it look like a giant python.

After running for about a few minutes, a steep downhill slope came into view, obscured by the blizzard.

"Slide down!"

Calleber stomped his foot on the ground before the steep slope.