Wizard Bloodline

Ronan's body was rigid, his face taut with tension.

The effects of the [Detection] spell hadn't fully faded. In his glow-tinged vision, the tattooed man in front of him stood out like a glaringly bright light bulb.

"Advanced... apprentice," Ronan muttered, his voice strained. "Black robe."

Only an advanced wizard apprentice's externalized mental energy could produce such a pronounced effect under the [Detection] spell.

The tattooed black-robed man smirked slightly at Ronan's words, then pointed at him. The skeletal warrior, which had nearly cleaved Ronan in two earlier, received the command and began striding toward him.

Without hesitation, Ronan retreated, shouting to the group of gray-robed wizards, who were frozen in shock, "What are you waiting for? Run!"

The unfortunate wizard who had been bisected by the skeleton's sword was still alive, half his body on the ground, howling in agony.

The gray-robed wizards snapped out of their stupor, panic spreading as they scattered in every direction.

The skeleton charged into the crowd after Ronan. He heard screams behind him but had no time to look back, urging Old Wills and the others to flee.

Attempting to repeat his earlier tactic, Ronan picked up Sherrill, but immediately felt a chill run down his spine. He hastily tossed Sherrill aside and rolled forward.

"Boom!"

A dark green orb of energy struck where Ronan had just stood, its corrosive acid quickly eating into the ground.

Had it hit him...

Ronan gritted his teeth.

This corrosive spell was something he'd seen from the previous black-robed wizards, but its potency was vastly different when cast by an advanced apprentice.

He rose quickly, navigating through the chaotic crowd, locking eyes with the black-robed man across the distance.

The man's mental energy remained fixed on Ronan, making it clear that escaping with the others as before was impossible.

"Go now," Ronan called out, drawing his sword and quickly chanting the spell for [Charged Weapon].

His fingers brushed along the blade, imbuing it with a dazzling glow.

"I'll hold him off. Don't worry about me. I can only escape if you all leave."

With those words, Ronan's expression turned icy as he advanced toward the black-robed man.

The skeletal warrior continued its slaughter among the scattered wizards, the air filled with chanting, the roar of spells, and screams.

Ronan forced himself to remain calm, trying to ignore the carnage around him.

Retrieving two rings from his waist, he activated the black turquoise one, enveloping himself in a faint protective shield.

A mid-level protection ring.

He raised the other ring, triggering a fireball that shot toward the black-robed man.

The man remained unfazed by the low-level spell, not even bothering to dodge.

"Boom!"

The fireball exploded a meter in front of him, dissipated by a black energy shield, leaving only ripples in its wake.

"Of course, he has defenses."

Ronan observed the energy shield, noting it was much more robust than his own. Likely a zero-level advanced spell or a spell triggered by an artifact.

"A near-expert [Energy Missile] matches a zero-level advanced spell in power, but breaking a zero-level advanced defense requires a combo with swordplay."

Ronan's mind raced, strategizing his next move.

He hoped the expert-level [Energy Missile] would break through after one more casting, possibly giving him a chance to turn the tables.

"Breathe—"

Inhaling deeply, Ronan began to accelerate.

His body fully engaged, muscles flowing like liquid mercury, his feet digging into the soft earth, tensing before releasing explosive power.

Ronan shot forward like an arrow, a trail of dust kicked up in his wake.

Halfway to his target, a chilling breeze swept past his ear.

His instincts screamed as a shadow loomed, and he lunged forward.

"Clang!"

The massive, rusted sword, still slick with blood and gore, struck the ground behind him, gouging a deep trench.

Ronan barely had a moment to breathe before the black-robed man, brandishing a staff topped with a black orb, began chanting a spell.

A sudden sense of foreboding gripped Ronan, his mental energy detecting a massive concentration of particles converging ahead.

A quick glance revealed a corpse swelling unnaturally.

"Boom!"

The explosion erupted in a cloud of blood, Ronan charging through with his sword raised.

His robe flapped wildly, hair stained with a faint red, the protective shield around him flickering.

He thought he'd broken through the defenses, closing in on the black-robed man, only to realize it was just the beginning.

Fresh corpses, inflated like balloons, were drawn toward him, followed by the relentless skeleton with its eerie green flames.

Despair nearly overwhelmed Ronan.

The urge to flee was overwhelming.

Was this the power of an advanced black-robed apprentice? It was terrifyingly formidable.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The bloated bodies detonated one after another, red shockwaves tearing through the air, engulfing Ronan.

The skeletal warrior, biding its time, swung its sword at the explosion's center.

"Ronan!"

Someone cried out his name, the chaotic scene momentarily stilling.

Many eyes turned to the epicenter of the blood mist.

As the wind dispersed the crimson fog, the scene became clear—

Ronan knelt, gripping his sword with both hands, desperately resisting the skeletal warrior's downward strike.

His face was strained, the protective shield long gone, chestnut hair plastered to his forehead, wet with sweat or blood.

"Crack, crack—"

His sword, glowing with energy, creaked under the pressure, cracks spreading along its length.

With a grimace, Ronan heaved the sword upward as it shattered into a burst of light, simultaneously chanting to summon a large blue-black energy orb, hurling it at the skeletal warrior.

"Boom!"

The orb exploded, the force propelling Ronan backward on a wave of energy. His initial resolve and eagerness had long vanished.

"No more fighting."

"I'm just a lowly Level 5 apprentice from the wandering community. I must have been crazy to think I could challenge an advanced black-robed apprentice!"

Having exchanged several blows with the black-robed man, Ronan was battered and close to death, his foolishness starkly apparent.

Now, survival was his only desire.