Chapter 0077: The Duel

Apart from the basic defensive forces, what especially drew Kevin’s attention was the strength of the fallen apprentices. There were six of them; according to past patterns, there should have been at least two or three near-wizards among their number, with the rest all being advanced apprentices. But today, something was unusual—among the six, there was only one near-wizard, which left Kevin somewhat puzzled.

One must understand, the situation among the fallen apprentices was vastly different from that of a proper wizard tower. In a proper wizard tower, the structure of apprentices was pyramidal: to cultivate a single near-wizard required at least five to ten advanced apprentices as a reserve, and each advanced apprentice needed five to ten intermediate apprentices supporting them, and so on. It was through this accumulation of numbers and the allocation of resources that wizard towers could discover those elite apprentices with both potential and talent amidst hundreds or thousands of novices, and then nurture them accordingly.

However, for the fallen wizards hiding underground, their apprentice hierarchy was completely different. In their camp, there were almost no novice or intermediate apprentices. In their eyes, the useless were not worth keeping around; all resources must be concentrated in the hands of those with potential and power. Thus, under this cruel and merciless law of the black forest, the proportion of near-wizards among the fallen apprentices was exceptionally high—sometimes even reaching parity with advanced apprentices.

This was precisely what gave the elite apprentices of the training camp the greatest headache. If the two sides met with equal numbers of near-wizards, then the fight could go either way. But if their own side was short even one near-wizard, the battle could quickly become a one-sided rout. After all, a near-wizard without an opponent of equal rank was as dangerous to advanced apprentices as a wolf to goats. No matter how well-armed or numerous the goats were, faced with a wolf running wild, they would still be helpless.

But who would have thought that today, in Mine No. 7, there were six fallen apprentices and only one near-wizard—an unusually low ratio. In contrast, Kevin’s own team of six boasted two near-wizards, with the rest being exceptionally powerful advanced apprentices. Such strength was enough to crush the opposition head-on.

As for the seventeen subterranean mercenaries, aside from a handful of particularly dangerous foes that warranted caution, the rest were largely ignored by the apprentices. If a battle broke out between apprentices, those mercenaries, no matter their numbers, would just be cannon fodder.

Grimm had envisioned that with such an advantage, their side would employ endless feints and ambushes, resorting to all manner of schemes and assassinations. But when the fighting actually began, he was taken aback.

It turned out, this was how battles unfolded underground!

There was no attempt to conceal their advantage. Kevin led his five teammates, along with Grimm and Mary, to swiftly block the entrance to Mine No. 7. With a show of force, he hurled two elemental fireballs, and the defenders across from them surged out of the mine like a swarm.

This was a natural cavern, about the size of three football fields, perfectly suited for a pitched battle. Clearly, it had seen much use: stalagmites and stalactites littered the ground in collapsed heaps, the rock walls were scorched and marked with black stains, and the stone floor was blotched with old bloodstains, left uncleaned for years.

At either end of the cavern, both forces quickly formed ranks, facing each other across two hundred meters.

At the front of the opposing side were, of course, the subterranean mercenaries. Their gear was in disrepair—most didn’t even have full suits of leather armor, and marched onto the field in rags. Of the seventeen, there were three gnoll assassins, two lizardman beastmasters, one mind-catcher, and eleven werewolf warriors.

Among them, only the three gnoll assassins and the mind-catcher really warranted attention; the rest were nothing more than distractions, there to draw fire and thin the focus of their enemies.

At the rear, the fallen near-wizard—a gaunt, sallow-faced middle-aged man—scowled as he saw the two surface near-wizards among the enemy. His expression was so dark, it looked as though ink might drip from his face.

Damn it, damn it, damn it… That bastard Philip swore that leaving for a day or two would be no problem. How could they have let such a powerful team slip through the upper passages? Philip, you bastard—if this defense fails, all the responsibility is yours!

He raged inwardly, but outwardly, this fallen near-wizard remained composed as he issued battle orders.

Colorful elemental barriers began to shimmer over the wizard apprentices—fiery red flame shields, crackling lightning wards, swirling pink mists, icy crystalline armor, and vibrant green bramble mail. In a heartbeat, every apprentice was encased in their own unique elemental protection—each one different in color, form, and function. Of course, this privilege was reserved for the apprentices; the mercenaries, mere cannon fodder, could not expect such benefits.

At some point, the three gnoll assassins had disappeared from the enemy ranks. The two lizardman summoners began to chant in their guttural tongue, and soon four hulking, stony-skinned basilisk lizards materialized before them. The eleven werewolf warriors, clad in battered leather, wielding flails or heavy clubs in one hand and crude wooden shields in the other, charged forward with a roar.

Behind them, the fallen apprentices, having completed their individual defenses, hurriedly began chanting the incantations for offensive spells.

“Grimm, leave these rabble to you!” Although Kevin was an advanced apprentice specializing in close combat, after barking orders at Grimm, he still chose to respond with long-range spells alongside his companions.

Mary, since her transformation into a vampire, seemed to have forgotten all her old spells, retaining only a few passive racial talents. Faced with such a battlefield, she simply melted into the surrounding shadows and vanished.

A dozen or more brilliant attack spells streaked through the cavern air, intercepting and colliding, filling the air with a dazzling storm of elemental energy. The violent, chaotic detonation swept across the center of the battlefield, engulfing the charging werewolf squad.

Fewer than half the eleven werewolves made it through the death zone. Even those that survived—just five in all—were battered and shaken. But before they could regroup and form up again, a colossal behemoth loomed before them.

Earthen javelins and a wide swath of earth spikes shot forth, and in an instant, the creatures were cut down to the last. The vulnerability of ordinary subterranean creatures before spellcasters was laid bare.

Grimm, mounted atop the demonic crocodile, did not urge it forward recklessly.

The opposing fallen apprentices maintained a tight formation—if he foolishly charged in, a single volley would be enough to blow him and his mount to pieces. Grimm now understood why both sides formed such disciplined, almost military formations, so reminiscent of the clashes between human armies: it was the terrifying power of elemental magic that demanded it. Those near-wizards, for all their arrogance and superiority, who could rout three advanced apprentices in a skirmish, dared not recklessly breach the enemy ranks in such a setting.

The individual defensive spells of near-wizards generally offered eighty to a hundred points of protection—enough to be shattered by a coordinated volley from just three advanced apprentices. Until they advanced further, until their own magical resistance could withstand such attacks, they too dared not risk themselves.

Thus, even with a numerical advantage in near-wizards, Kevin chose the safest, most crushing tactic: to use their superior magic to press down and break the enemy frontally.

And it must be said, after just two exchanges of spells, the disparity in magical strength became evident. Though many spells were intercepted or countered, more of Kevin’s spells managed to land within the enemy ranks than vice versa.

Amid the explosive waves of magic, the fallen apprentices’ formation began to falter. Most of their protective enchantments had grown dim, and a few were even wounded. In contrast, Kevin’s side remained in tight formation, their defenses intact and unyielding.

Perched atop the demonic crocodile, Grimm let his earthen hunter hurl javelins at the slow-moving basilisk lizards, while he himself, at Kevin’s direction, unleashed a flame spear, blasting a high-level enemy apprentice into cursing, howling agony.

From his vantage, Grimm saw the whole field—and soon, he spotted Mary.

At the edge of the battlefield, deep in shadow, a stifled groan rang out.

Suddenly, the vague, wavering figure of a gnoll assassin appeared, clutching his throat and staggering a few steps before collapsing to his knees. Blood spurted gleefully between his fingers, unstoppable no matter how he pressed.

As he choked and gasped, on the verge of death, the dark nearby rang with a sharp, metallic clang. Another gnoll assassin was forced from concealment, his eyes gouged out, his body raked with bloody claw marks. He swung his knife wildly at the empty air, shouting, but he could no longer see any foe.

When at last his blood ran dry, he let out a low wail and collapsed.

The deaths of two comrades in quick succession finally unnerved the third. The last gnoll assassin abruptly revealed himself and bolted at top speed. But he had not gone ten meters before a dazzling red flash split the air—his head soared skyward, and the headless body ran a few more steps before crumpling.

The frail, ugly corpse convulsed a few times and then moved no more.