“Arghhhh!”
Basilude screamed in agony as his leg snapped under Ghislain’s blow, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Julien, who had been ready to sever the dark mage’s neck, hesitated and stopped his blade just short of Basilude’s throat.

Drip.
A thin red line formed on Basilude’s neck, a single drop of blood tracing its path. He gasped for air, terror evident in his wide eyes. Somehow, his life had been spared.

Ghislain, resting his staff atop Basilude’s head, spoke calmly.
“It looks like this is over.”

“S-spare me!” Basilude stammered, his voice trembling. “I’m a 6th-circle dark mage. If you keep me alive, I can be of use to you!”

“You don’t seem very useful for a 6th-circle mage,” Ghislain replied bluntly.

His observation was genuine. When Vanessa, another 6th-circle mage, fought, she was capable of turning the tide of entire battles. Even accounting for the knights who supported her, her combat instincts were on an entirely different level.