School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 229 --The Past

"Perhaps, but spending so much time conversing with a defensive mechanism is quite odd in itself," the guardian mused.

"Maybe it is..."

"Given that, let’s have an unusual contest.

We’ll inject our arcanergy into our swords, tip against tip, and clash our arcanergy."

"If I’m not mistaken, the amount of arcanergy I can muster now is the same as yours, which means this contest won’t determine a victor."

"That remains to be seen."

The peculiar guardian began to channel arcanergy into his sword, seemingly unconcerned.

Owen pondered for a moment before agreeing to this method.

Their sword tips met, and they began their arcanergy clash.

A quarter of an hour later, the guardian’s sword began to wane in arcanergy.

Owen did not seize this as an opportunity to attack; instead, both withdrew their swords.

"You’ve mastered the art of precise arcanergy control," the guardian observed.

"With the same amount of arcanergy, you managed to prevent any loss, fully utilizing its potential, something I evidently couldn’t achieve."

"You might just break through the ninth floor. You’ve won this level. Please proceed to the sixth, farewell."

As he spoke, the guardian became translucent and dissipated like mist.

Owen felt an unexplained sadness, bidding farewell to the thin air before proceeding to the sixth floor.

There, the sixth level’s guardian awaited him, gripping an iron sword.

Owen scrutinized the figure closely—a man bearing the image of a middle-aged military officer, nothing remarkable.

The iron sword he held was just a common heavy sword.

So, was this a person?

With this question in mind, Owen asked, "What’s your name?"

If this figure was another mechanism, it was highly likely he had no name.

"Kistan."

Kistan?

The name seemed familiar, yet he couldn’t place it.

But having a name suggested this was not a defensive mechanism but indeed a person.

Owen raised his Ice Sword, declaring, "Make your move. I shall endeavor to spare your life."

"Much appreciated, though I only know how to fight to the death," Kistan responded, effortlessly lifting his heavy sword above his head with one hand and slashing down towards Owen, unleashing a sword aura straight at him.

Indeed, the magic tower seemed to calibrate the strength limitation of the intruders based on the guardian’s power at each level.

This sword aura was of a caliber similar to Owen’s.

Owen dodged to the left, countering with a sword aura of his own, then advanced towards Kistan, trailing his attack.

Logically, Kistan would either dodge or block Owen’s sword aura, requiring a moment to respond, during which Owen would close in for a melee attack, gaining the upper hand.

Even if Kistan managed to defend against the subsequent attacks, he would expend more effort and find himself in a precarious situation.

Launching such a tactic at the battle’s outset was a deliberate strategy by Owen, understanding that gaining the advantage in a fight between equals could be crucial in breaking the deadlock.

However, Owen’s plan was thwarted.

Kistan, undeterred by Owen’s sword aura, raised his heavy sword, channeling arcanergy around it, and struck down towards Owen.

With both feet off the ground, in that lightning-fast moment, Owen found it challenging to completely evade a full-powered strike from an adversary of equal strength.

He braced himself to meet the sword head-on.

Boom!

Boom!

Two explosions echoed within a second of each other.

The first was the result of Owen’s sword aura hitting Kistan, creating an explosion that carved a bloody gash from Kistan’s left shoulder to his right side.

His clothes were torn, yet his gaze remained unshaken.

The second explosion occurred when Owen forcefully received Kistan’s lethal blow.

Owen, despite his best efforts to infuse his Ice Sword with arcanergy to counteract the overwhelming force emanating from Kistan’s heavy sword, found himself outmatched.

Kistan had concentrated more arcanergy into his strike, treating it as his decisive blow, risking injury from Owen’s counterattack to deliver this powerful strike.

Owen, launched into the air by Kistan’s attack, was forcefully pressed to the ground before the potent arcanergy propelled him backward, crashing heavily against the tower wall.

A surge of fresh blood spilled from his mouth, which he disregarded, merely wiping away the blood seeping from the corner of his eye.

There was no time to dwell on pain; his focus remained unyieldingly on Kistan.

"I had thought that last strike would have concluded our battle," Kistan remarked, acknowledging the disturbance Owen’s hit had caused to his arcanergy flow.

As he spoke, he stripped off his tattered upper garment, revealing the long, ghastly wound even more starkly.

Kistan then initiated a series of straightforward, unadorned slashes.

Owen, leveraging his slight edge in agility over Kistan, weaved and countered between the sword auras.

Seizing an opportunity, and with a resolve embracing mutual destruction, Owen leaped forward, sword and body aimed directly at Kistan’s chest.

Kistan, standing his ground without flinching, thrust his heavy sword into the earth, emanating a potent white light that radiated outwards from him as the epicenter.

As Owen entered the expanse of white light, a wave of dizziness overtook him, forcing his eyes shut.

After a moment of silence, upon opening his eyes, Owen found himself inexplicably floating above, overlooking a vast city under siege, with the din of battle gradually filling his ears, restoring his hearing.

Screams of agony, both human and orcish, pierced the air incessantly.

Drawn towards an area of intense combat within the city, Owen floated closer, only to find Kistan amidst the fray.

Kistan’s armor was drenched in blood as he appeared to lead a cavalry unit into battle, though now his forces were greatly diminished.

The city’s defenders, human soldiers, suffered severe casualties, with the southern part mostly falling into the hands of enemy orcs.

The east and west of the city were also being steadily consumed.

By any measure, the humans’ position seemed dire.

Kistan had dispatched a scout to gather information from other parts of the city, then led the remnants of his cavalry in a charge against an elite orc battalion.

His heavy sword swung with relentless force, felling orcs in his path until his steed collapsed beneath him.

Leaping from his dying mount, Kistan plunged into the heart of the orc elites, his sword as light in his grip as a piece of paper, causing momentary chaos among them.

The cavalry under Kistan’s command carved a bloody path to protect their commander, but their efforts were in vain against the overwhelming numbers.

Owen, floating behind Kistan, watched as the scout returned with news.

"How stands the situation?" Kistan immediately inquired.

"The saint of dragons’ forces are preparing to break out. The city lord has decided to stand or fall with the inner city," reported the lower-ranking officer before collapsing, a mouthful of blood marking his final breath.

Owen could see clearly; two arrows lodged in his back had struck vitally.

"Is it finally over?" Kistan murmured to himself with a wry smile.

As if in answer to his question, rockets streaked across the sky.

Owen moved to intercept them, his Ice Sword lashing out, yet his sword aura passed right through the projectiles without altering their course in the slightest.

Am I here?

Am I not here?

Owen’s mind swirled with confusion.

He turned his attention back to Kistan, eager to ascertain if this Kistan was indeed the same Kistan.

Kistan looked beyond Owen’s "spectral form" towards the western city wall, which had been overtaken.

Rockets fired towards the still embattled areas, setting the city ablaze.

The flames illuminated the city as if it were daylight, revealing the fierce faces of the orcs surrounding him.

He lifted his heavy sword once more.

The orcs parted, making way for their leader, who stood before Kistan.

The leader eyed Kistan and then addressed the orcs beside him, "Warriors, grant him an honorable death."

One orc stepped forward, charging at Kistan with a mace.

Kistan dodged, his sword cleaving through the orc’s skull.

Another orc rushed at him, which Kistan dispatched with a block and a thrust, taking another life.

One by one, orcs dueled Kistan, and by the thirteenth orc, Kistan’s physical and inner strength was nearly depleted.

Owen had felt something amiss and now understood: this Kistan possessed far less strength than the Kistan in the magic tower.

Watching Kistan’s final struggles, Owen noticed a darkcastasura sneakily preparing a poison dart.

Despite Kistan being his adversary moments before, Owen’s respect for Kistan’s valiant stand against overwhelming odds had grown.

The cowardly act of targeting Kistan in such a desperate moment was contemptible to Owen.

He flew towards the darkcast asura, aiming a fierce stab at its heart with his Ice Sword.

Yet, his sword futilely passed through the darkcast asura’s body, achieving nothing.

Owen finally realized he could not interfere with the events unfolding here.

Kistan’s heavy sword fell to the ground, as he had no strength left to continue the fight.

His right hand was struck by the small poison dart, and then he heard the sound of a skull shattering.

The orc leader crushed the head of the darkcastasura standing nearby.

"This despicable creature was an orc enforcer, how laughable," Kistan murmured.

The orc leader addressed Kistan, "I observed your way of fighting. That is the swordsmanship of a true soldier. You are a worthy and respectable opponent."