The apostle did not consider it dire enough to feel a sense of crisis, but just witnessing the wall being destroyed made it clear these were not beings to be ignored.

He raised his hand, and then, from behind him, two women with shining eyes stepped forward.

“This is the second time it’s been brought down since it was built.”

One of them spoke. She was the one to Enkrid’s left, and her eyes were blue. More precisely, they looked like blue stones had been embedded in them.

There were no visible pupils, only solid blue stones set where eyeballs should be. No pupils—just a faint, flickering blue glow.

Described in words, they might have seemed impressive, but seen up close, they only looked monstrous.

If she’d attached those for style, that would be outright madness.

Enkrid read the aura radiating from the two women who appeared.

‘Witches.’

He was right. They were also the source of the strange rumors about the Crystal Prison.

Not only their eyes—parts of their bodies also resembled glittering stone. The rumors that people would be trapped in the Crystal Prison meant they’d become playthings of these two witches.

The wall of tormented spirits clad in thorny burial shrouds had collapsed, but the one behind the black lightning, the jailer of the Crystal Prison, and the one responsible for all of this were still standing.

“I’ll add you to my collection.”

The red-eyed woman, who had kept her mouth shut until now, suddenly spoke while staring intently at Enkrid. It meant she liked how he looked.

For a moment, no one from either side spoke.

By this point, Shinar should have interrupted after hearing the witch’s words, but her hand remained on the Leaf Blade, and she kept glaring only at the magic spirit.

Rophod felt that absence was strangely awkward, so he threw in a comment.

“A charm that seduces even witches.”

Everyone turned to look at him after that line.

What the hell is he on about now?—that was the expression on their faces.

“...Are you playing the barbarian now that he’s not here?”

Pell scolded.

Rophod shut his mouth, thinking he shouldn’t have said anything. Saying more would just give them something to pick on. There was no need to leave bait for teasing.

Enkrid blinked once.

Seducing? What the hell does that mean? He’d never seen either of those witches before.

Redirecting his gaze forward, he responded calmly.

“...I’ll pass.”

“Okay. See you later.”

The red-eyed witch was full of confidence.

“Who was the first?”

This time, Lua Gharne asked out of the blue.

It was because the witch’s earlier comment about this being the second time the wall collapsed had sparked her curiosity.

Someone else besides her had once thought to bring the wall down? The thought made Frokk open his mouth.

The castellan glared at Frokk, who had just spoken, and waved his hand, vowing to roast him alive one day.

At his gesture, a chilling sound like a blade being ground on a whetstone—ssrrrrrrng— came from behind the magic spirit, and something like a golem clad in crystal armor and holding a crystal sword rose.

The color of the crystal was murky and pitch black.

It was the same thing that had blocked Enkrid’s thrown spear.

Seen up close, it was clear it wasn’t just black armor—it was crystal.

Its build was smaller than Audin’s, but it looked that much more agile.

“Drunken on omnipotence, you fools have come seeking your graves.”

The castellan spoke, and Enkrid, instead of replying, swung Duskforge into the air.

To anyone unaware, it would’ve seemed like nonsense.

Why was he suddenly slashing at nothing?

To the average person, it might have looked that way—but no one here was average.

Everyone now felt that Enkrid had just cut something invisible with his slash.

Ping.

That sound didn’t actually echo out loud, but the blue-eyed witch felt as if she had heard it within herself.

“You?”

Just a moment ago, she had silently cast a curse spell—but it had been severed midway.

And it happened from a single slash.

By any logic she knew, that was impossible. That slash had merely cleaved the air, and her spell must have been disrupted by another sorcerer.

That had to be it. Or maybe there was an artifact or magical item blocking spells.

So that slash must’ve just been coincidence.

“Mine too.”

Her companion, with red stones embedded in her eye sockets, spoke as well.

At that moment, the man in front of them had slashed upward with the blade he had just lowered.

At that same moment, the flow of mana was severed.

It wasn’t that some impurity had interfered and broken the spell mid-formation—no, the spell was severed.

The idea that a spell could be “cut” sounded absurd.

‘But that’s how it felt.’

The blue-eyed witch thought that, while Enkrid looked at the two of them and thought something else entirely.

‘This is getting easier now.’

His experiences cutting through fire, through today’s looping blaze, his time spent with Esther—

All of it condensed into this moment. Enkrid had just cut through even invisible spells.

Jaxon, especially sensitive, had felt what Enkrid had done more clearly than the others and asked,

“Did you cut it?”

“Yeah.”

Enkrid’s answer was concise.

“...What the...”

The blue-eyed one muttered.

When knights and witches fight, the knight has the advantage. Swordsmanship always favors cutting down singular targets.

But there are times when witches—or mages—have the upper hand.

When they can cast prepared spells in a place they’ve laid out themselves.

This was one of those moments.

To the two witches, this was their front yard, and they had buried spell-enhancing tools all over the area.

The collapse of the thorn wall had nothing to do with it.

That wall was something they’d been “gifted” in the first place.

It didn’t belong to them. In fact, now that it was gone, spellcasting had become easier.

In every respect, the conditions were ideal.

“Red Foot!”

The red-eyed one was full of suspicion.

Even though the same thing had happened twice, she didn’t easily believe it.

‘Cutting spells?’

From the conversation between her chosen “collection” and the new candidate, it seemed spell-cutting was already taken as fact.

But it could all be coincidence—or a scam.

She shouted the name of the demon she served and released her mana.

Artifacts buried throughout the ground responded.

Drdrdrdrdr.

The air trembled as a huge circle appeared above the “collection’s” head in the air.

Inside the circle, red light flashed.

KWAANG.

Sound followed.

It was lightning. Not ordinary lightning—this was Flame Lightning, a forbidden spell.

It required extensive preparation and sacrifices to cast.

The red-eyed witch had used three of her spell-assisting tools to cast it.

Three artifacts buried somewhere in the ground had just crumbled into dust.

She hadn’t spared her prepared sacrifices.

And yet, the result she wanted did not occur.

“...Ah.”

A gasp tinged with emotion escaped her lips.

Over the strange, clinging black leather that covered her body, her repeatedly modified and stone-hard chestplate trembled faintly.

The red-eyed witch remembered something she had forgotten—something she’d never thought she needed.

It was an emotion called fear.

***

Just before the sky opened and red light fell, everyone reacted.

No one here was unfamiliar with how to deal with spellcasters.

If a spell manifested into a phenomenon, the most basic principle was to escape the range of that spell before it landed.

However, the spell cast by the red-eyed one was a forbidden spell that even accounted for such reactions.

If the Walking Fire was a flame that burned long,

Then the Flame Lightning was a fire that burned you to death in an instant.

Its sacrifice was a shrine maiden capable of reading the stars—or more accurately, a sentient being with spiritual qualities—used as a mana battery, their life force burned away. That’s why it was forbidden.

It was also a spell fast enough that no matter how fast a knight moved, he couldn’t avoid it.

She had essentially drawn one of her trump cards without hesitation.

It was far better to use it and regret it than to die clutching it unused.

The red-eyed witch wasn’t just any witch. She was used to combat. She knew how to fight.

That’s why she had immediately cast a forbidden spell—a spell so devastating that even a knight, if struck, would be burned down to the bone.

Enkrid accelerated his thoughts just before the red-eyed witch opened her mouth. It wasn’t intentional.

Once again, Will reacted on its own. Why? The answer came the moment he asked—no, the answer came quickly because he already knew before he could even ask.

“Whatever spell is prepared, it must show precursory signs before manifestation. It could be the voice shouting, or a hand gesture. Sometimes spells are cast without either, but the key is that mana moves. If you can feel that, you can sense it early.”

That was something Esther had said.

She’d also said that a battle between mages was about how well one concealed their mana release, and that there were many ways to render an opponent helpless even if they knew.

Even when fighting with a sword, people used every trick to win—why wouldn’t that apply to magic?

The source was the same. That idea applied here too.

If mages wished to fight, then though the form might differ from a swordsman’s fight, the principle would be the same.

A swordsman reads the intent to strike through the eyes, aura, gestures, footwork, or even the tensing of muscles.

Enkrid applied that to the mage. He felt the flow of mana. His five senses combined, and a sixth opened—merged senses coalesced into one, giving shape to what he saw.

Ahead of him, just before a black line twisted and began to rise, that line would shoot straight up, piercing the sky. That’s how it appeared to him.

Should one call it prediction—or insight?

There was no need to draw a line between the two.

In terms of timing, Enkrid’s perception began before the red-eyed witch had even finished saying the syllable ‘Red’.

To him, her incantation sounded like “Reeeeeeed Floooooooot oooof Baaaaaallooooooon” or some such, as if time had slowed dramatically—so he had already moved before the sentence was complete.

Originally, he intended to dodge. There was no reason to take the hit voluntarily.

The spell from that mage flew from beyond awareness—normally hard to dodge. But having already perceived it, dodging shouldn’t be difficult.

Just as one thread of his split cognition ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) leaned toward evasive movement,

Duskforge let out a hum—Jiiing—

Reacting to Will.

It was almost as if the sword were speaking to him.

Dodge? Why?

The sword asked.

Enkrid found himself without an answer.

During that brief exchange, a few more thoughts brushed past his mind.

‘If there’s no reason to dodge.’

Also, if he dodged here, the flame-compressed bolt would lose its target and scatter unpredictably.

He had already learned the trick when slicing through the Walking Fire. What more was needed now?

‘Nothing.’

His divided thoughts converged into one, and intent arose—he added strength to Will.

Before the witch’s words were even finished, Enkrid’s left foot slid a step forward to the left.

He extended his left foot to brace his stance.

The boiling Will surged into his eyes, locking onto the descending lightning.

A long, red mass falling in zigzag rips, aflame—the end looked blunt, but the moment it touched something, the hidden violence within would burst forth.

The force contained within would turn dozens into ashes instantly.

Once again, Enkrid poured Will into Duskforge.

Then, he raised his blade to meet the falling Flame Lightning—and slashed.

The red-eyed witch, watching, couldn’t distinguish where his motion began or ended.

To her eyes, the only thing visible was the man who stood, both hands gripping the sword, having just slashed downward after the bolt struck.

KWAARRRRRR.

The forbidden spell, Flame Lightning, split in midair into two parts and then scattered.

The remnants lingered in the sky as red light flashed.

Sparks flew in all directions, and each spark was bigger than a fist.

Above the night of the Demon Realm, it was as if someone had lit a red lantern.

The blinking red light cast shifting shadows on people’s faces—then vanished.

The thunderous roar continued.

It sounded like the noise that precedes a lightning strike—but everyone here knew.

No more lightning would fall.

It was because some madman had cut a spell.

Through the red-eyed witch’s field of vision, the man standing before her came into view.

Still and quiet.

And just looking at him—she felt terror.

It was as if his blade would slice through her neck at any moment. A cut that would erase her very existence.

Fear bred anxiety, and anxiety disrupted her control over the mana that had rebounded from the failed spell.

The mana twisted through her internal organs.

“Urgh.”

The red-eyed one vomited blood.

It was pitch black—indistinguishable from monster’s blood. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

From Enkrid’s lips and forearms, steam rose.

Even so, he did not move.

Once when cutting the fortress wall.

And now again when cutting a spell.

He had overused Will twice.

Now was the moment to catch his breath.

At that moment, Jaxon moved.

Mages were dangerous when fought from the front—but attacking from behind was a different matter.

The one who noticed it was the navy-skinned fairy, the magic spirit that had fired black lightning.

“Behind!”

The magic spirit’s shout and Jaxon’s gesture came almost simultaneously.