Chapter 45: Bold Oath
The moment the Captain’s voice rang out, the entire line of knights and archers released their spells at once.
Their hands glowed with radiant light as beams, bolts, and condensed spheres of holy mana surged forward like a storm that had been waiting to be unleashed.
Swoosh! Broosh! Voooshnn!
The air itself trembled as the concentrated energy tore through it, leaving behind streaks of brilliance that lit up the battlefield as though a second sun had descended upon the earth.
The attacks rushed toward Borzoi.
They came fast.
They came heavy.
They came like a giant sledge hammer, ready to smash a small red turtle without mercy.
Yet Borzoi only stood there.
He did not move.
He did not dodge.
He did not even bother to raise his remaining arm to shield himself.
Instead, he just remained like he cannot wait for it to come as he laughed.
"Hahaha! Hahaha! Is this all? Didn’t you learn your lesson earlier?"
As the moment the spells reached him, something strange happened.
Each light from every spell coming to him began to fade.
At first, it was slow nearing him.
Then it became faster like an instant.
Seemingly like the closer the spells got to his body, the more they lost their form and disappeared into thin air.
Their brilliance broke apart as though something invisible around him was devouring the spells piece by piece, until finally, just inches away from his skin, every single attack vanished completely.
Leaving nothing behind but faint sparks that quickly disappeared into the air.
Some larger spells lasted longer.
They struggled to come close to him like something was slowing them.
They looked like they were trying to resist but in the end, they met the same fate of the smaller light spells earlier until they were gone.
Gone.
All gone.
Next, the battlefield fell into silence.
The knights froze.
The archers lowered their bows slightly, their hands trembling.
The Captain swallowed hard.
That... that’s not normal...
Earlier, they were having a hard time penetrating his body. Now, they witnessed that this red human had something like that.
Do they even have a chance to beat this?
And then, they saw Borzoi’s hand, with a fountain of blood, and his left hand was missing... without him even realizing it.
They could only swallow their saliva.
Borzoi smirked as he looked at them, his eyes filled with mocking amusement.
"What? Is that all you got?"
He sounded like he was enjoying the terrified look of the Captain and his knights.
Then his gaze shifts to the one leading them now.
Clay.
And for the first time, Borzoi’s expression changed.
He froze.
Because the face he expected to see was not there.
There was no fear. No panic. No despair. No negative hopeless reaction.
Instead, Clay was smiling.
Not just smiling.
He was smiling widely, his eyes bright as if he had just discovered something incredibly interesting.
Isn’t this awesome?
Clay’s mind was racing.
Bersuka Tribe... anti magic... berserk ability... just like in the story... this is perfect... this is really perfect...
He stared at Borzoi as if he was not looking at an enemy. But a treasure.
A walking shield against magic... a natural counter to most Mana cultivators... and if I enslave them... then I won’t have to deal with this catastrophe again... everything becomes easier... my life becomes peaceful...
Borzoi frowned.
"Are you losing your mind?"
Clay blinked once, then shook his head slowly.
"Not really."
He tilted his head slightly as he observed Borzoi more closely.
"It’s just fascinating."
Borzoi’s eyes narrowed.
"What is?"
Clay pointed lightly.
"That thing you’re using."
He smiled.
"It looks like a shield that erases magic, or maybe something that rejects it completely."
He paused.
"Either way... it’s useful."
Borzoi let out a short laugh.
"Useful?"
His grin widened.
"How are you going to enslave me if I have something like this anti magic?"
Clay’s eyes widened slightly.
"So it’s really anti magic."
He muttered softly.
"Not absorption... not rejection... but pure erasure..."
Interesting... very interesting...
Meanwhile, far away across the sea, in another continent where the Warchiefs were watching everything unfold through a massive projection formed by ancient tribal magic, the Bersuka Warchief’s face twisted with rage as he slammed his massive hand onto the stone table beneath him.
The impact sent cracks across its surface, and his voice thundered through the room.
"You stupid Borzoi!"
His eyes burned with fury.
"Your hand is already gone and you’re still talking like this?! And now you’re even explaining your ability to your enemy?! Are you brainless?!"
The Shaman beside him frowned deeply, his old eyes filled with concern as he stroked his long beard.
"Warchief... calm down..."
The Bersuka Warchief growled.
"Calm down?! That brat is exposing everything! Everything!"
Another Warchief from a nearby tribe crossed his arms.
"Even if they know, what can they do?"
The Shaman nodded slowly.
"That is true... anti magic is not something ordinary cultivators can bypass... even if they understand it, they still cannot harm him..."
The Bersuka Warchief paused.
Then slowly...
He exhaled.
"Right... right..."
His expression eased slightly.
"They still can’t do anything..."
But deep inside...
Something feels wrong...
Back at the battlefield, Borzoi crossed his arms, looking down at Clay with a mocking gaze.
"So what now?"
He smirked.
"Scared?"
Clay looked at him for a moment.
Then...
He spoke.
"Not really."
His voice changed.
It became calm.
Serious.
"You’re still weak."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Only fact.
For a moment, everything went quiet.
Then Borzoi burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Hahaha!"
Clay laughed too.
He turned to the Captain and the guards.
"Come on, laugh."
The Captain blinked.
"What?"
Clay nudged him lightly.
"Laugh."
The guards exchanged looks.
Then, awkwardly...
"Hahaha..."
"Haha..."
Their forced laughter echoed weakly across the battlefield.
Borzoi stopped laughing.
His eyes darkened.
"How about this."
He spoke slowly.
"If even one of you manages to make me bleed..."
His lips curled upward.
"I will serve you as my master."
The guards froze.
The Captain’s breath caught.
Clay blinked.
Then he frowned slightly.
"I’m not a fool."
He crossed his arms.
"I know you’re not sincere."
Borzoi’s expression became serious.
Without hesitation, he raised his remaining hand and pressed it against his chest.
"I swear upon the Totem of the Bersuka Tribe."
His voice deepened.
"If any of you can make me bleed... even a single drop..."
"I, Borzoi of the Bersuka Tribe... will serve that person as my master for the rest of my life."
The air trembled.
A faint ancient presence appeared behind him.
A towering shadow of a beast, carved with countless battle scars, its eyes glowing faintly as though witnessing the oath.
Borzoi continued.
"If I break this oath..."
"My anti magic totem will abandon me..."
"My body will rot..."
"And I will die in endless pain."
The ground beneath him cracked slightly.
The oath was accepted.
Far away, the Bersuka Warchief froze.
Then his eyes widened.
"You bastard..."
His voice trembled.
"You bastard!"
He leaned forward, staring at the projection with disbelief.
"You’re already bleeding!"
His fists clenched tightly.
"You’re already bleeding, you idiot!"
The other Warchiefs turned to look more closely.
And then...
Back at the battlefield, Clay stared at Borzoi for a moment.
Then slowly...
He smiled.
"That’s a bold oath."
He raised his hand.
Then pointed finger at his foe.
"but as for you bleeding..."
His finger moved slightly to the side.
"Look at your left hand."