Chapter 249: Messengers
"Hehe… A little baby boy actually dares to hold back while fighting me."
Gorgo coughed up several mouthfuls of blood, his once pearly white teeth becoming covered in a sheen of crimson.
Leonel's gaze met the minotaur Demon Lord's. Although Gorgo was on his knees now, he was so tall to begin with that Leonel could only look him in the eye.
It wasn't that Leonel was looking down on Gorgo, it was rather that Leonel himself was too strong. Because of this, his actual fighting prowess had stagnated.
During his studies in the Mage Academy, Leonel had learned a lot. His Dreamscape was filled to the brim with mage textbooks and manuals of all kinds. But, if he were to separate them into groups and point out which had the largest percentage of theories written about it, there was no doubt in his mind that it would be 'battle sense'.
To a mage, there were things more important than how many spells you knew and how powerful your spells were. What stood above that was timing, situation and execution.
Every Mage Art took time to cast. When a Mage Art was ultimately cast, it would impact the environment and change the situation around the next Mage Art. And, every Mage Art took a good portion of one's Spirit Pressure to cast.
Ultimately, between knights and mages, mages were particularly worried about battle sense and efficiency. If one had poor battle sense, it was very possible for a weaker mage to defeat a stronger one.
How a mage economized their Spirit Pressure, how they prepared spells in battle -- building up with shorts casts to longer ones -- and even down to the angles to which they pointed their wands were all important aspects of battle sense.
This realization ingrained one thing in Leonel's mind: He was still too weak.
Before, he hadn't realized how much of a grip this thought had on his heart until he realized just how much his loss to Lamorak had affected him. But now, he couldn't have been more clear.
To the current Leonel, defeating Gorgo by relying on his combination mage and spearman abilities held no meaning. The only reason he resorted to it in those final moments was because he felt that if he continued, his life would be in jeopardy.
This was maybe the first time in his life that Leonel was truly faced with his own weakness. He couldn't help but have thoughts of what would happen to him if he was less talented. Such a thing left him feeling greatly uncomfortable in his heart. It was an emotion he didn't quite understand how to reconcile with.
Leonel's spear pulled out from Gorgo's collarbone and struck down again. This time, he pierced his heart.
As Gorgo's life faded, so too did Leonel's blazing aura. His Runes dimmed and sunk into his skin and his violet-red eyes slowly faded to its usual pale green.
A wave of fatigue overwhelmed Leonel. His breathing couldn't help but grow heavy.
He was only barely able to counter the side effects of his Metal Synergy Lineage Factor after reaching the Weak state. But, his body still felt heavy. Of course, it also didn't help that his new weapon was over a hundred pounds either.
'My Force and Soul Force are still at over 70% capacity, yet my body can't keep up…' Leonel frowned.
He felt like a headless chicken. He was always coming up with issues he could work on, but he never had a perfect solution for any of them. He needed more knowledge.
The Mage Academy had a limited amount of information on matters related to the body, but the Knight Academy should be different…
Leonel turned around to hear the stomping hooves of a band of horses. The first sight he saw was Lancelot's stern face, carrying a lance bloodied by battle.
Leonel smiled somewhat bitterly. He didn't have much experience in battle, but it was pretty much common knowledge that rules and regulations were extremely important on the battlefield. He had acted without regard for consequences earlier, but that didn't mean that there wouldn't be any.
However, Leonel wasn't stupid either. Mages were a special circumstance. Usually, the more powerful a mage, the less restricted they were by the rules of the army. For example, Lionus, as a Light Mage, traveled around the battlefield to where he was needed. So, Leonel wasn't too worried about punishment.
It was just that he fought too much like a knight, so it was easy for those watching to forget he was a mage.
Lancelot saw Leonel's calm expression and his lip couldn't help but twitch. This boy, couldn't he at least pretend to be afraid?
Though Lancelot thought this and even tried to think of ways to make Leonel suffer a small loss, he soon remembered that he actually didn't have any power to punish Leonel. This feeling left him quite stifled.
In truth, he was thankful to Leonel. Though he was confident that they would have won the battle anyway, it most definitely wouldn't have been so easy.
Demons were different from humans. Their population of warriors was far higher despite the fact the overall population of humans outstripped them. As a result, they were uncaring about casualties and usually attacked in waves, whittling down their stamina for weeks and months on end.
Due to this, the Demons had an overall losing record against humans, but in the grand scheme, it was actually humans who were on the losing end. Something like winning with so few casualties, and even taking down a Demon Lord at the same time, was of great benefit to Camelot.
Just as Lancelot was thinking of how to deal with Leonel without appearing too weak and forgiving, a scout suddenly rushed to the front line.
"Sir Lancelot! Urgent tidings!"
"Hm?"
Lancelot frowned. They just finished a several hour long battle, what could it possibly be now?
"Speak." Lancelot finally said.
"This…"
The messenger looked toward Leonel and hesitated. The other knights around Lancelot were his respected guards. No commander would enter a battlefield alone, they would always have death guards around them. The first priority of these death guards was to ensure the safety of the commander.
This was all to say that while it was alright for such trusted subordinates to hear this message, Leonel was an unknown factor. The scout's hesitancy just went to show how important the message was.
"It's alright, speak."
The scout took a deep breath. "I come from the #15 Small Barrack just northwest of here. We've been overrun by demons and are seeking assistance."
Lancelot frowned.
"Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot!"
The information from the first scout hadn't even settled in before another messenger suddenly crossed onto the battlefield.
A bad premonition suddenly struck the Knight of the Round Table.