I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

The young banshees wore the same expression. Although the banshee queen's advice had made them unwilling to miss a single detail, they also didn't want to watch any longer.

Among them, only one person showed an expression that stood out from the rest.

At this moment, Nasti seemed to have lost all focus, except for the figure standing in the air.

she murmured.

"The sky...the wind...is it suspended?"

Chapter Thirty: A poor start, a series of blunders, a bitter struggle, and a reflection.

At this moment, the situation on the scene unfolded exactly as the banshees had predicted.

The curse of the Banshee Queen flowed from the bone pen, and the wounds on her body seemed to have no effect on her. From beginning to end, Lamaren did not even move an inch, but simply let the blood flow from her body.

There are three incantations in total.

The words written with a bone pen, the melodies chanted from the lips, and the deadly moves hidden outside the wind shield and concealed within the spells, waiting to be unleashed.

The written words were deflected by the wind in Pegasus's hand, and the melody of the chant was swiftly evaded by Pegasus's agile movements.

But the killing move is aimed at what happens three seconds later.

The words written dozens of springs ago were reactivated by Ramalyn's will. They were perhaps spells she wrote in her childhood, before she had mastered the skills. And now, those spells flowed around her along with everything in her past, until they were awakened again by their owner.

Once the Pegasus is guided by the wind to another direction, its movements will come to an end, and the dark incantation will pierce out of the tide like lightning, striking its body directly.

The moment the melody ended, the sirens chanted again.

"silence."

The incantation broke through the wind blocking his way and entered his body.

The world fell into a deep sleep.

No sound entered his consciousness. Gerald realized that this was not simply a ruptured eardrum or deafness, nor was it a problem with nerve conduction, because the subtle resonance from bone vibrations had also vanished from his brain. It was as if some invisible barrier had completely isolated all sound-related sensory mechanisms from his existence.

Gerald tried to cough a few times, but he couldn't even feel the vibrations in his own chest. An eerie silence covered his entire world like a heavy curtain.

However, he simply didn't have any more time to think.

The siren's right hand was writing characters stroke by stroke, and she was about to utter the next incantation.

One of the unrecited incantations has been reactivated and is hidden in the ocean of incantations.

There's no need for fancy moves on the battlefield; only results matter. If a method works, use it until the opponent can counter it.

This time, they're aiming for the eyes.

"Blindness".

The loss of his senses made it difficult for him to even defend against the first two moves. Even though he was prepared for the final killing move, the 360-degree attack range still made it difficult for him to make the right judgment for a moment.

Another sense was gone from him; this time he could see nothing at all, and all that remained of his sight was darkness.

There is no need to question Ramallen's combat experience. From the moment Gerald forcibly traded injuries for injuries, she realized that the physical damage she inflicted was not enough to stop him, but the deprivation of her senses could directly affect the course of the battle.

Therefore, in the instant she created distance, Ramalyn made the most decisive choice.

"tenderness."

Time and time again, stripping Pegasus of all his senses.

The only problem is-

Lamarle carefully gripped the bone pen in her hand, the words she was about to write were ready, and she waited quietly for Gerald's next reaction so that she could respond to his actions as quickly as possible.

She remembered the scene in the forest vividly. It was rare to see someone remain in their original state after being hit by the banshee's confusing spell, or even find the right path and direction to break through the defenses set up by her sisters.

Carrion eaters and liches are able to do this because of their racial traits.

At least in her opinion, Kuranta shouldn't have that ability... Perhaps the legendary Khan could?

Gerald didn't have crimson hair, nor did he seem to possess the aura of the legendary nightmare.

……

The space for living is being squeezed.

In the darkness, Gerald realized this.

His sense of smell and taste were still intact, and his combat instincts were still alerting him to the approaching attack. However, unlike the legendary stories where one's senses would be enhanced once they were blind or deaf, darkness was darkness.

The sound of the wind disappeared.

Reason told him why this was happening, and combined with the confusing spell he had encountered in the forest earlier, the banshee's spell seemed like a kind of manipulation on a soul level.

The body's stress response and the physiological mechanisms it exhibits, or rather, everything controlled by the physical body, are not significantly affected. It bypasses the influence of the body's own nervous system and instead directly injects the incantation into the brain, achieving a mental barrier.

Reason told him that this was a metaphysical concept that could not be explained, and that it might exist, but there was no means to prove it for the time being.

But then he thought of the banshee's ability to visualize concepts into words, and he couldn't help but agree with the hypothesis to some extent.

How can we stop the opponent's next offensive, and how can we regain what we have lost?

...Perhaps, there is a way.

Gerald stood in his own darkness, and even though he couldn't hear the wind, he was still lifted up by it.

Put on the ring, then take it off.

He doesn't actually need a medium for casting spells now.

Since the end of his battle with General Felin, Gerald has been trying to use the strength of the cloth on his shoulder.

After waking up, he reviewed the battle and, in the instant he was thinking about how to accelerate Originium Arts, he directly summoned the Wind Without Source.

When dealing with young banshees, he didn't even need to wear his ring; he could simply use the wind to hang them from the ceiling.

When he encountered the incantation in the forest, he relaxed his body and focused his mind and soul on his Originium Arts, so the wind led him to the right path.

If he could manipulate the wind to gradually explore a place and sense the surrounding airflow, or change the air pressure between areas to accelerate or decelerate his body… although these are mostly intuitive methods, ultimately, he needs an input and output process to reach the desired result.

But how does the wind know his thoughts and desires?

How did he turn his aspirations into reality?

Or--

Has he already come into contact with something involving the "soul"?

Blood was flowing where Gerald could not perceive it.

The blood of the King of the Royal Court dripped down her skirt and onto the ground, quickly accumulating to a sufficient size. Unbeknownst to them, it was absorbed into the current of the incantation, until it transcended the limitations of distance and merged with the cloth on his right arm.

And in the dark world of Pegasus, when the blood of the King of the Royal Court and the banner used to slay demons were completely fused together.

Just a glimpse.

He was able to see the trajectory of the magic.

------

The bone pen in Lamar's hand trembled.

A sudden sense of panic welled up inside her, and she took a step back, her eyes fixed on the motionless Gerald.

It was this one action that led her to witness a scene she would never forget—

The silver-haired Pegasus closed his eyes, hovered in the air, and gently waved down his still-good arm.

Then, all curses came to an end.

Chapter Thirty-One: That's why they say the Boss battles offer the highest rewards.

Sometimes the worst thing isn't death, but rather dying with your money still intact, or living but losing all your money.

For Gerald, the worst thing would have been to be alive but without his weapons.

After all, having severed all of Ramalyn's curses, he didn't know what to do next.

The wind stopped, completely.

He was no longer able to maintain any Originium Arts, and even when he tried to take two steps, he almost fell to the ground due to the confusion of his senses.

His sense of direction had long since collapsed, and the road beneath his feet seemed to be constantly sliding and twisting, making it difficult for him to even maintain his balance, let alone find his sword.

"..."

What should we do next? Is it possible to injure the King of the Royal Court in close combat? The circular arena is suitable for flanking maneuvers, but what if the opponent still has the strength to continue casting spells? The possibility is not low. Ramalen can still create new spells on her own, and the bone pen in her hand can still write words... Is there still room for trading blows?

He is still alive; in fact, on the surface, he only has a broken hand and has lost a lot of blood.

But if you can't find a way to resist, then there's no point in trying to survive.

No, think about it calmly. Ramalen's location is etched in his mind, and the sword fell right beside her. All he needs to do now is—

Actions must be faster than thoughts.

His sense of smell became his guide; the blood seeping from Ramallian's wounds permeated the silent and invisible world, like a thin red thread guiding him forward.

Gerald crouched low and quickly took the first step toward the direction of the sword he had deduced.

With no room for concealment, he poured all his strength into speed, the sword's position now crystal clear in his mind. There was no room for further adjustments, no possibility of pausing; this was the only way to resolve the situation.

Ramallen's fingers twitched slightly, and Gerald's intuition caught the movement—perhaps she was preparing to cast a spell, or perhaps it was some other sound.

He didn't confirm it specifically; time was too tight.

He rolled over, gripped his sword, quickly rose, and charged forward.

The blade traced a clean arc forward, finally stopping beside Lamaren's neck.

……

Lamaren neither changed her position nor attempted to block; her bleeding wound remained just below the edge of his sword. Clearly, her opponent had no intention of making any defensive move against the incoming attack, or perhaps she had already prepared a defensive strategy.

It wasn't until Gerald realized that his sense of touch had returned to him.

That long-lost sense of reality surged back like a tide. He felt the tension in his arm, the coldness of the sword hilt, and even the faint, subtle vibrations in the air.

And in that instant when his sense of touch returned, a pair of soft hands gently touched his face.

Her fingertips traced his cheek, lingering on his eyelids, gently stroking them, making him involuntarily submit.

Gerald tried to open his eyes, but the blinding light pierced his retina like a sharp blade, forcing him to squint slightly to adjust to the sudden brightness.

He saw her.

He saw that she had already removed the veil from her face.

He saw her ignore the sword at her neck, taking not even the slightest defensive move, and simply take a step closer to him. The blade pierced her skin slightly with her movement, drawing a little blood, but still failed to elicit any reaction from her.

He saw the blood seeping from her neck and instinctively deflected his sword. So she moved closer, almost pressing herself against him.

He saw her open her mouth and say a few words.

【————】

The moment the words ended, the belated sound finally rushed into Gerald's ears like a torrent. The gasps, screams, and chaotic noise that tore through the air all assaulted his eardrums, forcing him to cover his head.

Only when the throbbing pain in his head subsided did he catch his breath, lower his head slightly, and look at the banshee who was now almost at his eye level.

“You know I can’t hear what you just said, right?” Gerald finally uttered his first words to Ramalen since the battle: “Why don’t you repeat it?”

“In the time just now, I thought about what you would say many times.” A hint of helplessness seemed to appear between Ramalen’s brows, but the smile on her face never stopped, and her gaze never wavered: “But I really didn’t think of this request. I thought you would be more tactful.”

"I am indeed very tactful when dealing with people who don't require much effort or attention."

Gerald wanted to say something more, but his consciousness seemed unaware that his body had reached its limit—the deprivation of his senses, the forced activation of Originium Arts, and the discovery of a way to break the curse amidst countless streams of information—neither his mind nor his body could support him continuing like this.

But he was born into the military, so he could still stay clear-headed by sheer willpower.

"You're exhausted." Ramalyn quickly supported Gerald, ignoring the many people on the surrounding platform watching them. "You've also suffered serious injuries."

Gerald glanced at the Banshee Queen, who for some reason was holding him firmly in her grasp: "You're quite adept at changing the subject, madam."

These words made Ramalen's blush deepen, and she could only sigh: "What I mean is, the most outstanding queen among the banshees will naturally also be the most outstanding healer. Or do you feel that I alone am not enough, and hope that other banshees will help you heal?"

"I just hope that the succubus in this context can appear in other contexts."

Gerald responded to the other party's words by avoiding the main point: "For example, right now, you should chat with those young banshees as the ruler of the royal court, or at least explain the current situation to your sisters. They seem very afraid that I will cut you down with one sword."

This is indeed the case.