School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 228 --The Tragic Demise of Nobles

Barely managing to stand, both men’s mouths oozed blood that turned from red to black.

True to their ruthless noble lineage, each had coated their blade with poison for their final strike.

The deadly toxin, carried by their arcanergy, invaded their bodies, overpowering their resistance.

"Despicable!"

"Shameless!"

They cursed each other, collapsing to the ground, never to rise again.

"What a pity," the high priest lamented, observing their corpses.

"It was always stated that only one could proceed per level. Exceeding this number would keep the inter-level barrier sealed. To unseal it required reducing the numbers. Why the rush to such a futile end? Now, both have ensured their mutual downfall, leaving no victors."

As the high priest spoke, Goden’s gaze remained fixed on the tower’s lanterns.

Skes had reached the fourth level, and after a few minutes, the fifth level’s lantern finally lit up.

Goden began to gather his arcanergy, ready to act, while Owen stood by quietly, awaiting the inevitable end of the last noble, Skes.

Two minutes passed since the fifth level’s lantern was lit.

Owen judged that it was nearly time.

Sure enough, a significant crash sounded from the tower, and Skes came flying out of a window, his head plummeting towards the ground.

Unaided, such a fall would likely have been excruciating.

Goden, however, lent a hand.

His power-focused sword pierced through Skes’s chest, slowing his descent.

Skes tumbled several times upon hitting the ground, lying motionless, head down.

With his tasks completed, Goden prepared to return to the City of Two.

Turning to Owen, he said, "Brother, thanks for your assistance these past days. It’s time for me to head back."

"Not so fast," Owen gestured towards Skes on the ground, "At least let him understand what’s happened."

Skes was already a corpse, devoid of any breath, especially with Goden’s sword having pierced his left chest—a wound not even the strongest could survive.

Yet, Goden approached, his blade mercilessly stabbing several holes into Skes’ legs.

Skes moved, using all his strength to turn himself over.

"Enough," he said, looking into Goden’s eyes.

"A warrior may be killed but not humiliated. Yet, I fail to grasp the nature of your grievance against us."

"You wouldn’t understand even if I told you," Goden paused briefly, taking a deep breath, "Remember the massacre of the former city lord’s family fifteen years ago?"

Skes managed a bloodied smile, "Ah, the wheel of karma does turn. But we were merely pawns. The root of this lies within your family’s internal strife, initiated by the current city lord."

"Don’t worry, I’m off to settle accounts with him now."

"With just you?" Skes retorted, skepticism in his voice.

"Forget everything else; not a single spy from the city’s families has reported back. The major families within the city are likely on guard against unforeseen events. Under such circumstances, how do you propose to overcome the city lord?"

"Recognize this?"

Goden produced a small brocade box from his robe, revealing a beetle inside upon opening it.

"A messenger beetle?"

"Exactly. Ever wondered who sold those beetles to your families? It was me."

"So... today..."

"Today, all the families received messages from their unique messenger beetles. The City of Two must be quite lively now."

"Impressive. Had you been born fifteen years earlier, our family would have certainly supported you."

"Unfortunately, like my father, I refuse to let scum like you pollute this world."

Goden, devoid of any emotion, delivered another thrust into Skes’ right chest, the oppressor of the common people finally drawing his last breath.

It was then Goden realized Skes’ heart was on the right side.

"Now, it’s indeed time for me to return." Goden bid farewell to Owen again.

Owen nodded, watching Goden depart.

"Oh, has someone forfeited?" the high priest turned to Owen.

"Then it leaves only you. Aren’t you entering the tower?"

"I intend to," Owen replied, his mind momentarily casting the shadow of Rose, yet he was determined to proceed.

Apart from the witch’s minions, only Laine remained, intent on witnessing the end.

Owen, stepping forward past Laine who wished him "good luck," responded with a smile.

Perhaps luck was indeed needed.

Entering the magic tower, he immediately felt a significant suppression of his strength, the tower’s power far exceeding his expectations.

His strength was rapidly diminished, facing a guardian enshrouded in darkness, Owen instinctively felt this was neither human nor a complete being.

The first-level guardian, silent, raised its sword against Owen.

With his strength limited, Owen, cautious, drew his Ice Sword to meet the attack.

After a few exchanges, he noticed the guardian’s considerably weak strength.

Unleashing the fluid sword techniques acquired from countless battles, Owen forced the guardian back with a series of moves, exploiting a mistake to pierce its right arm.

As the darkness dissipated, so did the guardian, confirming its nature as a defensive mechanism summoned by the magic tower.

Ascending to the second floor, Owen felt an increase in his strength.

The second level bore no significant difference from the first, its guardian matching the restrained Owen.

This guardian seemed to possess a hint of humanity, bowing to Owen before charging, though shrouded in darkness.

Without exerting much effort, Owen’s sword pierced the guardian’s throat after twenty moves.

Understanding these guardians weren’t truly alive, Owen’s blade grew more lethal, sparing no mercy for these non-living beings.

The swordsmanship of Sanctuary, unordinary by any means, proved its worth as the guardian held its own for twenty moves.

On the third floor, Owen’s strength increased once more, his attempts to break the tower’s restraints proving futile.

Facing the third-level guardian, he deployed the exquisite techniques of Sanctuary.

Fifty moves later, he disarmed the guardian, smoothly advancing to the fourth floor.

The fourth floor, where Laine had chosen to forfeit, presented a new challenge for Owen.

For the first time, the guardian of this level spoke, uttering a polite "Please!" before the battle commenced.

Standing with sword in hand, the guardian did not rush forward as those on the previous levels had done.

Clearly, this guardian understood the principle of counter-attacking, maintaining a poised stance while the dark aura around it flowed in an orderly manner.

Owen and the guardian faced off for several minutes, and Owen couldn’t help but find humor in the situation.

Having weathered many storms, here he was, his strength diminished by the tower’s magic, yet feeling an intense tension against this non-human adversary.

Relaxing his taut nerves without becoming complacent, Owen remained fully capable of defending against any attack and ready to deliver a deadly strike at any moment.

He had achieved a state of unity between mind and spirit.

Taking the initiative, Owen’s Ice Sword, enveloped in a fierce sword aura, sliced towards the guardian.

The dark aura around the guardian twisted and writhed but did not retreat.

The colliding auras canceled each other out within the confined space of the tower, exploding without causing any damage to the structure itself.

Not a single brick was dislodged, nor was a speck of dust disturbed from the tower’s surface.

Before long, Owen gained the upper hand.

He gradually deciphered the guardian’s sword techniques, realizing that, after all, the guardian was merely a defense mechanism of the magic tower, lacking human intelligence.

Two minutes later, Owen could anticipate the guardian’s next three moves.

As the guardian raised its sword for an attack, Owen, without hesitation, launched a counteroffensive, thrusting a fatal blow.

That deadly thrust pierced the guardian’s chest just as its blade was mere inches from Owen’s face.

With that, Owen had also conquered the fourth floor.

With his Ice Sword still unsheathed, Owen ascended to the fifth level with calm and poised steps.

However, the sight of the fifth floor’s guardian slightly took him aback.

Unlike any other, this guardian appeared unmistakably human.

"Surprised?" the guardian inquired.

"A bit," Owen admitted.

This guardian lacked the dark aura that swirled around the previous ones.

Dressed in simple black garb without any adornments and wielding an iron sword with ancient patterns etched onto its surface, he presented a medium build, slightly lean, with a hint of a smile on his face—this was Owen’s first impression.

"Compared to those enveloped in dark mist below, I suppose I seem more human," the guardian commented.

"But you are not?"

"I guess I’m probably not."

"You’re unsure if you’re human?"

"It’s uncertain, but I lean towards not being one."

"Why is that?"

"Humans have names, yet I possess none."

"Oh, I see. So, you too are a defensive mechanism of this magic tower."

"Defensive mechanism? Well, considering I’ve been guarding this level, calling me a defensive mechanism isn’t wrong. So, it seems I am one."

"You’re quite an unusual defensive mechanism."