Mage's Profound Truths

Chapter 38: Bandits (Part Two)

As time slowly passed, the thick fog surrounding the castle gradually dispersed, and everyone could clearly see the formations of knights ahead.

They galloped forward, raising clouds of dust that filled the sky. A rough estimate showed at least two or three thousand people, maybe even more.

Old Wilson and all the knights in the territory became alert and prepared for battle. Their greatswords glinted with cold light, awaiting only Old Wilson's command to charge.

But Old Wilson did not give the order; instead, his expression grew increasingly serious.

“Three thousand men, at least three thousand bandits.”

Old Wilson murmured in a low voice, his expression becoming even more grave. Suddenly, he called Pula over and said in a deep voice, “Pula, go protect Merlin. No matter what happens, you must ensure his survival!”

Pula hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed the order and came to Merlin’s side. Since leaving the battlefield with Old Wilson, he had never seen such a grim and tense expression on Old Wilson’s face.

“All heavy-armored knights, form up and prepare to charge!”

At Old Wilson’s loud roar, the knights clad in black heavy armor immediately raised their long lances, pointing them toward the sky, lining up behind Old Wilson and ready to charge at any moment.

Soon, a large group of bandits surged forward. However, they appeared very disciplined, halting several hundred meters from the castle. From within their ranks, three white-robed men wearing golden masks gradually stepped forward.

Old Wilson narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew these three masked men must be the leaders of the bandits. A rough glance showed the number of bandits was seemingly endless, enough to completely surround the castle.

In terms of combat power, Old Wilson’s heavy-armored knights were the strongest, but they were too few—only two hundred. Even with the other six to seven hundred knights in the territory, their total number did not exceed one thousand. Compared to the three thousand bandits, it was far too small.

Moreover, Old Wilson had a keen eye. Just from observing their formation, he could tell that these bandits were very disciplined and showed high combat quality—such traits could only result from rigorous training.

Looking at the bandits before him, Old Wilson felt as if he had returned to the brutal battlefield of the past. These were not a rabble of thieves, but an elite, well-trained army.

“When did bandits start receiving such good training?”

Old Wilson’s eyes swept sharply over the mass of bandits ahead, finally settling on the three golden-masked men. They were the leaders. Only by defeating them might he preserve the territory.

With that thought, Old Wilson raised his greatsword with one hand and roared to the two hundred heavy-armored knights behind him, “In the name of knightly honor, charge!”

“In the name of knightly honor, charge!”

The two hundred heavy-armored knights shouted in unison, their morale surging. It was as if the three thousand bandits before them posed no threat at all, and an overwhelming aura radiated from their bodies.

This was the force Old Wilson had spent more than a decade creating, using nearly half of the territory’s tax revenue to train. And today would be their first battle!

“Rumble rumble...”

Two hundred heavy-armored knights moved forward like a landslide, shaking the earth beneath them as they followed behind Old Wilson like a black torrent, charging straight into the formation of thieves ahead.

Old Wilson led the charge, taking the lead on horseback, and with his two hundred heavy-armored knights, carved a bloody path through the enemies—no matter how many thieves stood in their way, none could resist the impact.

The armor on these knights made them nearly immune to ordinary blades and spears—only immense force could injure them, knock them off their horses, or exhaust them until they could no longer fight.

Under Old Wilson’s command, the mere two hundred heavy-armored knights had already slaughtered over three hundred thieves in one charge, and had barely taken any damage themselves.

From afar, the three men in white robes wearing golden masks watched as Old Wilson and his knights rampaged through the bandit ranks; though their expressions were hidden, they were surely grim.

“What formidable heavy-armored knights... Wilson truly is something. No wonder he survived the 'Slaughterhouse' back then. If only he would return to the embrace of the gods...”

“Angus, we can’t let him continue this charge. I’ll go kill him—once he’s dead, the knights will crumble.”

The three men clearly saw that Old Wilson was the soul of the heavy-armored knights, like the alpha wolf of a pack—so long as he charged ahead, the knights would be fearless and unstoppable.

Therefore, to break the knights, Old Wilson must be killed.

“Quero, Relo—you two go. Make sure Wilson is slain.”

“Haha, Angus, don’t worry. It’s just a mere Wilson—what’s he worth?”

The two white-robed men in golden masks then rode swiftly toward Old Wilson.

Though the heavy-armored knights were nearly invincible, cleaving through all before them, the thieves were simply too numerous—despite their repeated charges, they could not break through, and more and more bandits gathered around.

Quero and Relo quickly charged in, commanding some thieves to cut Wilson off from the rest of his knights.

Quero, with fiery red cropped hair, rode straight at Wilson, drew his greatsword slowly, and locked his gaze on him.

“Remember, you’ll die by my hand—Quero!”

With a low growl, Quero’s greatsword erupted with a dazzling light—even amidst the chaos, the brilliance stood out.

Upon seeing the light erupt from Quero’s blade, a powerful fluctuation of light-elemental energy, Old Wilson’s expression changed dramatically. In a hoarse voice, he shouted, “Light element… You are Guardian Sword Saints of the Church?”

Old Wilson was deeply shocked—he had thought they were thieves, but now, someone who could wield the light element had appeared. He knew well that such light-element swordsmen would surely be absorbed by the Church as Guardian Sword Saints.

In the blink of an eye, what had seemed like a bandit became a Guardian Sword Saint revered by the Church. For a moment, Old Wilson no longer knew what to think.