Chapter 49: The First Kill

Beginner? Novice? Weakling? Watching Meimu raise a full-body shield—a technique only favored by rookie mages—the bald brute, known as the Fallen, flashed a sinister, twisted grin as he lunged forward.

It was a simple matter of 'points' and 'surfaces.' If both sides possessed similar levels of magical power, spreading it across the entire body meant each part had only the minimum magical defense. But such evenly distributed protection was woefully inadequate against an opponent concentrating their power into a single, focused assault. That’s how a point pierces a surface.

Whenever one aims for a successful defense, it is necessary to fortify a crucial direction, even a small area, to withstand the enemy’s sharp, relentless attacks.

The burly man, resembling a Viking raider, had tattoos on his face that trembled with the twitching muscles of his cheeks, making him look intimidating. With the [Self Acceleration] spell activated, his speed surged. Noticing that Meimu hadn’t even managed to turn around, he shouted triumphantly, “Got him!”

Victory? A cold gleam flashed in Meimu’s eyes.

Today, he was no longer the feeble wretch who, before joining Kamar-Taj, could legally beg with a certificate of disability. Months of dual training in magic and martial arts were hardly last-minute efforts. From childhood to now, Meimu had never been so diligent; recently, his days consisted of ceaseless training, twenty-four hours at a stretch. By day, he studied magical theory, practiced spellcasting, and honed his combat skills. By night, while his body slept, his soul wandered, devouring books and researching ways to counter and break various spells.

Though there were thousands upon thousands of magical arts in the world, he couldn’t master them all, but he knew enough to respond to most. Take today’s Viking brute: his reckless charge might have overwhelmed a typical Kamar-Taj mage, knocking them down before finishing them off with brutal melee attacks.

Meimu could tell at a glance that the man had concentrated most of his magical power in his left arm and right fist. Charging sideways, he was using his left arm as a shield.

“Is this guy planning a [Shield Bash]? Come on, you’re not Captain America…” As a hybrid mage, Meimu’s mind raced faster than most; in the blink of an eye, when others would barely react, he had time to mock the situation inwardly.

But in the brute’s eyes, it was a very different story. The young man appeared panicked, but as soon as the attack commenced, his entire aura shifted dramatically.

In that instant, the roles of hunter and prey reversed!

White-robed Sword Saint Gandalf, throughout his life, had slain countless towering orcs—he’d dispatched even the mighty beasts standing three or four meters tall without hesitation. Would he possibly fear this two-meter-tall brute?

The man sensed danger, but failed to notice the [Staff of the Tribunal of Life] in Meimu’s left hand had already shot forth, transforming from a simple staff into seven sections plus two, resembling a flail.

The staff traced a bright arc from below, powered by Meimu’s waist, maximizing its kinetic force.

The brute tried to block with his left hand, strengthened by dark magic, but while he managed to stop the staff’s handle, he couldn’t ward off the two weighted ends flung by magical chains.

It was as if he’d been struck brutally by a nunchaku.

At this close range, Meimu could see clearly—the man’s entire jaw was shattered: his twisted chin, teeth and flesh splattering, a gruesome sight.

But it didn’t end there.

[Gandalf’s Dual Wield]!

Old Gandalf was never one for single-handed combat.

Having inherited the berserker mage template, Meimu’s ambidextrous skills were exceptionally agile. The meteor hammer attack with his left arm wasn’t even finished when his right hand thrust forward.

The translucent blade of the [Vatu Magic Sword] pierced the air effortlessly, plunging silently into the brute’s throat.

“Sorry, you won’t get the chance to be ‘Iron Jaw’ after all.”

No longer the greenhorn who’d never seen blood, Meimu found, to his surprise, that his first kill brought a sense of exhilaration.

Perhaps witnessing those two Blackwater mercenaries die before him was the most shocking moment.

Just then, behind Meimu, another Fallen mage opened a portal. Seeing Meimu slay the brute in an instant, he let out a piercing scream, “No—Melro, weren’t we supposed to achieve immortality together?”

Witnessing the death of a comrade—brother or best friend—the Fallen mage’s portal opened sluggishly, giving Meimu time to turn around leisurely.

“Sorry! Your Melro is done for!”

“Aaaaaaaah—!” He leapt from the portal, shrieking madly as he charged at Meimu.

A Fallen consumed by rage is beyond reason.

Fury may grant strength, but it strips away all rationality.

Faced with this madman—whose eye sockets were pitch black, mouth and eyes split wide, body scorched by dark magic to a charcoal hue, barely human anymore—Meimu’s battle was even simpler than before.

“Waloduuuka!” With a brief incantation, a golden magical whip appeared out of thin air in front of the madman’s advancing left ankle.

“Snap!” He was instantly tripped.

He tried instinctively to step forward with his right foot to regain balance, but Meimu’s whip wrapped around his ankle and jerked back, leaving him utterly off balance.

Unlucky for him, he fell right onto the still-warm body of his dead companion.

“Ah!”

The scene left him momentarily bewildered.

Meimu, unwilling to witness any more, stabbed him in the back, letting the pair die together.

“Well, whether or not there was any brotherly love, I’ve done right by you.” He muttered swiftly, not even checking the system prompt before turning his attention to the battlefield below.

He had to admit, these dark-eyed elites were fierce.

While Meimu dealt with the two Fallen above, the Kamar-Taj mages below were nearly wiped out.

Only Daniel and another mage had managed to take down three Fallen together; the rest was a near-total defeat. On the field, five blue-robed Kamar-Taj mages remained, three of them gravely injured. There were still ten red-robed Fallen.

Crucially, Kaecilius had yet to truly make a move!

“Hmph!” Seeing that Meimu had dispatched two of his men on the stairs, Kaecilius was visibly displeased.

His cold snort was the signal, and three Fallen who had just finished off their opponents instantly turned and lunged toward Meimu on the stairs.

Thirty steps—an ordinary person would need several strides to ascend. But with the [Valto’s Leaping Boots] spell, the three Fallen leapt in a single bound, magical sparks flaring beneath their soles, crossing more than ten meters to land before Meimu.

Their coordination was flawless; if Meimu stood unmoving, all three would strike him simultaneously.

“Careful!” Even Guardian Daniel cried out in alarm.