Jensen's bloodline power made him irritable and short-tempered, but it also granted him keen instincts. So when he cracked the whip, he didn't lash out at Joel and Elisa. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, he changed direction and lashed behind him. At the same time, his eyes turned crimson, the muscles across his body swelling and knotting one by one, stretching his black leather armor and clothes to the point where they looked like they were about to tear apart.
Driven by his terrifying strength, the whip was nearly invisible—its sharp, piercing crack only echoing after it had already lashed through the air.
Lucian, who had anticipated this, was halfway through his lunge when he pushed off the tip of his foot, changed direction, and dodged Jensen's whip. Then, with a single stroke of the dagger in his hand, he severed the ordinary whip with ease and continued charging toward Jensen.
After cracking the whip, Jensen spun around and strode rapidly toward the wooden table, where his weapon lay.
His hand went light as the whip snapped, but Jensen, eyes blazing red, already had a three-headed flail in his grip, ready to strike at Lucian.
At that moment, Lucian not only stopped advancing but came to an abrupt halt. Fine powder slipped from his fingers, and a tremendous roar erupted within the nearly sealed cell.
The location where the roar sounded was one Lucian had carefully calculated and selected beforehand. Jensen's ears buzzed and his mind briefly went dizzy—he nearly lost his grip on the flail. But he was a proper knight, and he shook off the effects in an instant.
Tim and the other four knight-errants were standing in different parts of the room, still completely bewildered. They hadn't been able to react to the rapid chain of events—the iron door being smashed open, the afterimage lunging in, Jensen cracking his whip and then grabbing his flail. When the tremendous roar exploded in the sealed room, their heads spun and their ears buzzed, and they all collapsed to the ground, unable to get up for the moment.
Joel and Elisa, who were far from the source of the blast, had constitutions far weaker than the knights' squires. In the roar, they passed out without so much as a whimper, never even comprehending what had happened or what was changing around them.
The cells behind the iron bars were farthest from the blast, but the iron doors and the nearly enclosed environment acted as accomplices. The echoes piled on top of one another—though still not as devastating as the sonic attack Tim and the others suffered, the prisoners inside had endured days of torture. As a result, most of them, including Evan, lost consciousness entirely, just like Joel and Elisa, while the few who remained awake were plagued by ringing in their ears.
The apprentice-level spell "Homanzi's Choking Cough"—as long as you knew how to use it and how to leverage the environment—could create a perfectly satisfying temporary clearing effect!
And Lucian, having prepared in advance, had cast it wordlessly to save time and seize the opportunity!
Though such wordless casting consumed a great deal of spiritual energy, Lucian could currently sustain five or six such spells. At a critical moment, he certainly wouldn't hold back.
The sonic wave produced by "Homanzi's Choking Cough" was an area-of-effect attack, and Lucian himself was somewhat affected, causing mild dizziness. By the time he recovered, Jensen had already swung his flail.
His flail was pitch-black and appeared enormously heavy, yet each of its three heads displayed a different appearance: one crackled with tiny, snake-like arcs of silver lightning; one was engulfed in raging flames; and one was coated in a layer of viscous, putrid green luminescence.
It was a magical weapon imbued with three elemental damage types: lightning, fire, and acid!
Jensen's eyes were bloodshot, his arms bulging as he wielded the flail with devastating power. The sound filled the entire room, and the air within seemed to take on shades of red, silver, and green.
Facing Lucian, he was absolutely and entirely on the attack, completely disregarding defense, as if willing to trade his own injuries for a chance to land a blow on Lucian.
Against the astonishingly powerful Jensen and his formidable weapon, Lucian naturally wouldn't engage him head-on. Instead, he relied on his superior speed and agility, fighting a running battle around the room—his faint afterimages dodging and counterattacking like specters amid the red, green, and silver light.
But after just a few seconds of mobile combat, Lucian realized something was wrong. Even when the crackling silver lightning didn't strike him directly, it influenced the surrounding air, causing numbness and tremors that gradually slowed his speed and reduced his agility.
"I can't drag this out!" Lucian assessed the situation calmly.
This was not only because the longer he delayed, the greater the flail's magical effects would affect him, making him increasingly vulnerable—but also because Camille and the Cardinal could burst in at any moment.
Fortunately, Lucian had always planned for a quick and decisive fight. He jumped back several steps, retreated to the doorway, and temporarily widened the distance between himself and Jensen.
With bloodshot eyes that seemed to have lost all reason, Jensen showed no hesitation whatsoever. He strode forward, flail swinging, in pursuit of Lucian.
A trickle of faintly glowing powder slipped from between Lucian's fingers—once again, wordless casting.
A blinding orb of light burst forth without warning, its brilliant radiance illuminating the dim cell as brightly as the polar day.
The rapid shift between darkness and light forced Jensen to squeeze his eyes shut, but he didn't dodge. He merely hesitated for a moment before continuing to swing the flail forward, as if unafraid of taking damage—so long as he could finish off his enemy!
With narrowed eyes, Lucian seized the moment Jensen faltered. He pushed off the ground with explosive force, becoming a streak of afterimage. Ducking past the flail, he lunged at Jensen from the side, the silver dagger in his hand gleaming with a cold, razor-sharp light under the brilliant glow.
Jensen's instincts were sharp—he pulled his elbow back, and the flail immediately changed direction.
Unfortunately, Lucian's speed and agility far exceeded his. The flail could only chase after Lucian's back.
The silver dagger struck Jensen's chest, but his solid, bulging muscles were like plates of iron. Combined with his black leather armor, they completely blocked the dagger—even causing the blade to begin snapping.