Chapter 257: The Last Favor

  Behind him, the ancient tree into which the small object had been embedded silently collapsed. Its massive trunk, its countless branches and leaves, all turned into gray-black powder and fell down, burying the object within.

  But that aura could not be buried. It was clearly silent, colorless, and odorless, yet it could make any life form feel the blackness, feel the vastness and death. The aura was constantly spreading, diffusing.

  His right hand, which had held the sword, had already flown off at the shoulder, blood gushing like a fountain. But compared to the wound on his back, this injury seemed like nothing. That sword had severed more than half the muscles in his back from bottom to top, along with four ribs, and even a part of his spine. If that black blade hadn't come flying through the air to pin the Templar away, that sword strike would have split him in two.

  Yabin didn't dodge; he had never expected the Templar behind him to strike so suddenly. But even if he had, he wouldn't have dodged anyway. Because this was the only chance to create an opportunity for Ethan, who was in the magic trap, and it was also the only chance to save Talise.

  The figures of Knight Tamika and Ethan had merged into one, carrying the surrounding sword energy and momentum, turning into a black line that disappeared into the distant forest. From the final sensation in his right hand, Yabin knew that the strike that had landed on Knight Tamika was not heavy. The opportunity gained by sacrificing an entire arm might not be significant, but there was no other way; his strength was only enough to go this far.

  With his only remaining hand, he drew a dagger from his waist and sliced it across Talise's body. The ropes binding the female knight snapped. But for just this action, he had used all the strength in his body, down to his toes. No one could be vigorous and energetic with nearly half the muscles in their back severed. Yabin could even feel his lungs trying to push their way out through the broken ribs.

  Am I going to die? Damn it... I'm going to die... How can this be... I don't want to die... I don't want to... Damn it... Is there really no way out...

  At this moment, a bitter smile actually appeared on Yabin's lips. He took a deep breath. Talise was still leaning against him, a few strands of her golden hair drifting across his face. Yabin's hand glowed with the light of Purification. This was the last all-out white magic spell. He pressed his hand on Talise's body, and then his body slowly collapsed. Even if he could endure the pain from the massive wound, the large pool of blood that had already gathered on the ground had already surpassed the limits of a human.

  Purification just so happened to dissipate the magical power that had been restraining her body. It was the restriction Knight Tamika had placed on her to limit her magical power. After a cool, water-washing sensation in her body, her restrained power returned. At the same time, her thoughts also awoke. Talise supported the collapsing Yabin. Surprise, sorrow, fear, and disbelief completely occupied all her expressions and feelings. These incredibly intense emotions, paradoxically, had no suitable direction. She didn't understand at all what had happened before her, or why. She felt that she was going crazy, and it seemed she already had.

  "Yabin, Yabin, what's going on?" Talise felt as if she were holding a large sponge soaked in blood. The warm blood instantly flowed down her arm, making everything it touched slick and hot. Her all-out white magic on the wound, which was more like a fissure than a cut, was like a cup of water on a burning cart—utterly useless.

  Yabin opened his mouth but could no longer make a sound. He could only look in the direction from which the Templar had charged.

  This Templar had also just snapped out of his stupor from this series of sudden changes. He watched as Knight Tamika and his opponent disappeared into the forest, and his own companion was pinned to a tree by a blade thrown mid-air. He was still dazed for only a single breath before he knew what he had to do. He raised his sword and charged toward Talise and Yabin.

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  The Templar's judgment was not wrong. In this situation, he should indeed strike first. These two were undoubtedly enemies, and both were unarmed. This was the best opportunity.

  But what he got wrong was Talise's reaction. Talise set Yabin down. She didn't pick up her longsword, nor did she adopt any fighting stance. Instead, like a street thug, she jumped up and grabbed the blade of the sword. As the blade nearly sliced through her own hand, her fist also struck the Templar's face. Her foot also kicked the Templar in the groin.

  This was absolutely not a move a well-trained knight would make, so it was completely beyond the Templar's expectations and reaction. His cheek caved completely under the female knight's fist. More than ten teeth were mixed in with the spraying blood. But he could no longer feel it. All his attention was focused on the sensation in his lower body, which felt as if that kick had sent his testicles up to his throat.

  The Templar let out a shriek like a pig being suffocated. His body traced an arc in mid-air as he was sent flying backward, then he fell to the ground, motionless.

  Talise paid no attention to the blood gushing from her own hand. She didn't even think about how she had just managed to send the Templar flying. She quickly pulled a scroll from her robes. It was one of the few scrolls she had brought with her when she left Celeste, a "Divine Grace" scroll said to have been personally made by His Majesty the Pope.

  The scroll was unrolled. White, warm, and jade-like magical power slowly descended and landed on Yabin's body. The effect of a magic scroll personally made by a top-tier white magic user like His Majesty the Pope was naturally also top-tier. It could be said that even someone half-dead could have their life saved under this magic. But Yabin was not just half-dead. He was mostly dead, already close to being completely dead. The blood spraying from his wounds was enough for a person to bathe in, and the sword on his back had injured many of his internal organs.

  Furthermore, the death curse from Knight Tamika's blade had already begun to corrode his entire body. But under the effect of this supreme healing magic, he slowly opened his eyes and let out a breath.

  "Don't waste it like this... I'm probably going to die..." This was Yabin's first sentence after regaining consciousness. He could feel that the life force within his body had been severed. This magical power was indeed pure and vast, but it could only temporarily fill the gaps where the life force had broken; it could not reconnect them. Even the blood flowing in his veins, delivering life force, was white magic. The wound in his heart, pierced by a broken rib, was also being temporarily filled by white magic. The Necromancy curse was continuously weakening all functions in his body. Unless a Cardinal were to act in person, this single scroll alone would be powerless to turn the tide.

  "What's going on? Yabin? You... why did you do this?" Talise knelt beside him, asking in a trembling voice.

  "It was the only way..." Yabin's voice choked. His throat convulsed. He should have coughed up a mouthful of blood, but there was no blood left in his body to cough up.

  "You... you..." Talise no longer knew what to say. She wanted to ask him why he had betrayed her, but also why he had risked his life to save her at the very end. But seeing him like this, she couldn't ask anything.

  "Go... go help Brother Ethan..." Although Talise had never said it, and Yabin didn't know what kind of relationship the two originally hostile people had, from Knight Tamika using her to threaten Ethan and from some of their conversations, he vaguely knew they were on the same side.

  "I... I can't leave you..." Talise looked at Yabin, at a loss. White magic had already started to overflow from his severed shoulder. This was a sign that the magic was not fully effective. This was what you would see when white magic was used on a dead body. His body was already beginning to die.

  "It was I who wanted to join you. It's my fault that I've harmed you..." Tears had already begun to flow from the corners of Talise's eyes.

  "Hehe, if you hadn't asked me to join, Knight Tamika probably wouldn't have let me go anyway... Do me a favor... if you can... look after my sister for me..." Yabin forced a smile. His pupils were already beginning to lose focus.

  Talise nodded quickly, and then she saw the smile on Yabin's face slowly unfurl, like a flower that had been tightly clenched in a fist, and after the hand was released, losing its restraining power, was slowly opening, withering. She could clearly feel the last bit of life force snapping, dissipating from his body.

  He was dead. Talise felt it clearly. And then she felt as if a hand had grabbed her heart and twisted it. Large tears fell down. This was the first time she could remember crying. Before this, she didn't even know that she was capable of crying.

  In the forest, Knight Tamika was still chasing, and he was about to catch up.

  What was the point of this escape?

  Watching Ethan fleeing before him, Knight Tamika's evaluation of him couldn't help but drop a little. Although the two high-level healing spells had barely restored his mobility, how far could he get while moving so unhurriedly and stumbling? This was a completely meaningless struggle.

  Of course, no one was willing to accept failure. But to clearly have failed and still try to escape, to still engage in pointless struggle—that was cowardice.

  Although Knight Tamika knew that this opponent was truly difficult to deal with, he absolutely did not believe that he had any room left to struggle. Two Archbishop-level white magic spells would have surely depleted his magical power to almost nothing. His Battle Qi was empty, and his body hadn't even recovered. What method of struggle could there be? Just from his swaying figure and footsteps, Knight Tamika knew that he could catch up to him in two or three breaths at most.