The Paladin in the Abyss

"This is no ogre mage," Kalalin pushed a few words through clenched teeth, "this is an evil spirit."

Lancelot watched the ghastly figure with a green complexion and fearsome fangs, towering over ten feet tall. Greyish-white hair hung from beneath the shadow of the entity's hood, and from a pair of lantern-like eyes shone bright yellow light. It revealed a terrifying smile at him, displaying rows of sharp teeth.

"What's special about it?" Lancelot's lips barely moved, his voice resonating directly in Kalalin's ear.

"Don't let it cast any spells."

"You must have many questions," the ghost cackled sinisterly, "feel free to ask. I don't mind enlightening you…"

His words cut abruptly short because Lancelot had charged at him like a wraith, trailing dense afterimages. He swung Frostslash high above his head.

Even Bruto and the others didn't react in time. Wasn't the norm to announce one's own name, clear up all questions, and then start the fight? Wasn't Lancelot supposed to be a knight, then why did he just rush in?

Indeed, honor held a very important place in the knight's creed; they sought to defeat opponents fairly, but the war taught Lancelot to apply this rule only to those who shared a sense of honor. Against an evil being that lurked in the city sewers, creating the undead to attack taverns and inns, slaying the foe was the greatest honor.

As for the enemy's schemes? Who backs them? What is this so-called grand creation? Those were not his concern. Their goal was merely to obtain information about the Succubus Paladin, avoid getting entangled in other troubles as much as possible, not to ferret out every shadow behind evil deeds.

Though it might seem disheartening, this was the Abyss, and they themselves needed to keep a low profile.

Despite Lancelot's swiftness, there was still some distance between them, and the ghost managed to draw a large cleaver from beneath its expansive cloak in time to attempt to counter Lancelot's attack.

This was the first mistake it made today. The force transmitted from the Human Knight's longsword was unimaginable, striking the giant off-balance and causing it to stagger backward.

Naturally, Lancelot wouldn't miss such an opportunity. He quickly followed up with a horizontal sweep aimed at the opponent's abdomen.

The ghost desperately tried to block Lancelot's pursuit with its weapon, but its unsteady stance offered no match for the charging knight. Lancelot effortlessly swatted away the weapon and then sliced a huge gash across the ghost's green belly, spilling purple blood and fragments of viscera.

The ghost let out a piercing scream as it thrust itself backwards with full force, narrowly evading Lancelot's subsequent thrust.

But something beyond its comprehension happened. A verdant Sword Aura extended from the tip of the Human Knight's longsword, and beneath the ghost's disbelieving gaze, it pierced his shoulder, effortlessly leaving a fist-sized transparent hole.

The severely injured giant crashed heavily against the cave wall, but Lancelot was clearly not going to let his opponent off so easily. He raised his longsword and pounced at the demon once again.

As he lunged forward, his hearing—enhanced by an elves' blessing—caught a faint whisper from his opponent's lips. A sense of alarm flashed through Lancelot's mind, and he violently rolled to the right.

Just then, the demon abruptly lifted his arms, and a terrifying cold spell burst forth from his palms. Lancelot's reactions were fast, but he still got brushed by the icy blast, making him feel as though half his body was about to freeze solid.

Bruto, who was not far behind and rushing to support him, wasn't so lucky. The dwarf barely managed to shield himself with his shield, taking the full brunt of the icy assault.

Bruto was immediately in a critical condition, but a stream of red light, filled with life energy, enveloped him. This was Alamir's healing spell. Seeing the urgent situation, the priest had directly used his Third Circle spell slot to cast this divine art.

The effect of circle upcasting was significantly evident, as the surge of life energy flowed into Bruto, quickly stabilizing the dwarf's injuries.

But that wasn't all; Bruto immediately pulled a potion from his belt and gulped it down in one go.

That was a healing potion prepared by Koula in advance. As adventurers, how could they face off against villain bosses without the help of these items?

Meanwhile, Lancelot, who had gotten up from the ground, circulated his energy slightly and expelled the chill from his body. He looked up at his enemy to see the wounds on the demon healing rapidly, and the enemy was muttering, seemingly preparing to cast another spell.

However, three blue-white orbs flew from the distance and interrupted his casting. These were magical missiles released by Kalalin, a mere First Circle spell, hardly stronger than a blow from Bruto's hammer, but the spell's trait is that it never misses and causes force damage.

This means that without prior protective magic, the spell would directly interrupt the target's casting, which was exactly Kalalin's intention.

The demon, whose spellcasting was disrupted, let out a furious shriek, but he no longer had the luxury of thinking about how to retaliate against the hateful spellcaster, for Lancelot was already upon him.

With no room to retreat, the demon steeled himself and swung his claw directly at Lancelot's sword blade. As long as his hardened claws could block the opponent's weapon for a moment, his other claw could tear the despicable human to shreds.

Even if he lost an arm in the process, it didn't matter, he would soon regrow it, while his opponent certainly didn't possess such potent regenerative abilities.

Lancelot easily saw through his opponent's intent. On the battlefield, desperate enemies often hope to trade their own death for a severe injury to him, but that scheme had worked only once, a long time ago. Since then, Lancelot never allowed the battle to develop as the opponent wished, and today was no different. Your next read is at empire

His thunderous charge convinced the demon that a clash of absolute strength was imminent, but in the moment of crossing, Lancelot's figure twisted eerily. The blue-skinned, white-haired giant swung its claw, only to tear through an illusion leftover in his retina.

In that instant, Lancelot seemed to vanish, but that was only because he was too fast, the bystanders couldn't keep up with his pace. When his comrades not far away realized the human knight had already repositioned to the enemy's side, Lancelot's longsword had already slashed at the demon's waist.

His movement was so swift, yet time seemed to slow down in that moment. Everyone watched clearly as Lancelot's sword, glowing with a green light, slowly cut into the giant's abdomen, inch by inch, bisecting the terrible opponent at the waist.