Chapter 3, Chaos of Battle

"Hehe, fine. Richard, go check on that fat man." A guard beside Ophirok bowed slightly and then slowly disappeared into the darkness

At that moment, the sound of hooves echoed from outside the long street. "The city defense forces are coming; it would be terrible if my old man found out!" Kate shrieked, causing both sides to cease fighting. Rog stood up from the magician, casually snatched his staff, and ran back. The mercenaries realized that their only remaining combat-ready member was the female warrior, and continuing the fight would yield no favorable outcome. They left in frustration. Rog and his companions were also unwilling to engage with the city defense forces under such circumstances, and they hurriedly made their escape.

Is this the creature created by the source of the divine? Rog's jaw nearly dropped; this skeleton should have no connection to the gods of the celestial realm. Could it be that the gods, who enjoy infinite glory in the heavens, are essentially no different from evil?

Several individuals' rude stares were immediately noticed. The female warrior shot a glare back, and Luns quickly responded with a whistle. The female warrior's face was icy, her hand moved to the hilt of her sword, but she was restrained by the mage. "Do not cause trouble here, Qiwei"

Rog sat down beside Aite, silently raised his glass and drank. After a long while, he let out a deep sigh. At the same table were three individuals who were clearly young aristocrats, each wearing the slender swords commonly used by nobility. Two dancers were playfully laughing and frolicking with the crowd. Aite affectionately put his arm around Rog's shoulder, "I say, my brother, it has been quite dull without you these days. No one else has as many tricks up their sleeve as you do. What's the matter, feeling troubled? Is it that some girl hasn't taken a liking to you? Haha. Leave it to your big brother. Come on, let's have a drink first! Hey, bring us two more bottles of your tequila!"

"Ophirok! The Golden Lion of the Rhine Alliance, how could he be here?" Low murmurs rose and fell. Ophirok is the only son of the largest Bavarian duchy lord in the Rhine Alliance, having been sent to the Holy Church's Temple of Light for guidance since childhood, and he only returned to the Rhine Alliance six months ago. Ophirok is one of the three youngest high temple knights of the church, and he has displayed exceptional military talent from an early age, coupled with his natural handsomeness and distinguished lineage, overshadowing even several princes of the Rhine Alliance.

Several mercenaries showed evident restraint against their noble opponents. Rogge, however, remained clear-headed and quickly cast a magic missile. Two light projectiles arced toward a male warrior. The warrior casually swung his sword to block, but Rogge activated his mental power, causing the projectiles to pause mid-air. The warrior immediately missed his block, and the two light projectiles then curved around, exploding on the warrior's face. Although the magic missile was a basic spell with limited power, it seemed the thickness of the warrior's skin was far less sturdy than the chainmail he wore. Consequently, the warrior, bloodied, staggered and fell down.

Aite, being the oldest, possessed considerable combat experience. He immediately jumped up to begin chanting a spell, but having drunk too much, he stumbled through the incantation for a sour arrow, failing to produce any effect after a long while. By this time, the opponents had already engaged in a chaotic fight with Luns, quickly leaving the three of them bruised and battered. The female warrior was particularly ruthless, delivering a vicious kick aimed directly at Luns. Sensing the danger, Luns swiftly turned around and took the blow on his backside, flying out of the battle circle. Aite shouted loudly, snatched a longsword from a nearby person, temporarily assuming the role of a knight, and charged into the fray.

"Oh, isn't that Rog? Long time no see. I heard you've changed your ways in the past six months, really planning to become a great magician?" Rog looked over and realized it was Aite, an old buddy with whom he had fought and chased girls. Aite was a burly figure, three years older than Rog, and was the captain of the city defense cavalry, considered a mid-level knight. He had always trained Aite to become a knight, yet somehow ended up sending his son to the magic academy. However, Aite had some talent; he entered school a year later than Rog but became a level three magician six months earlier and was currently striving to become a level four magician.

"That fat man is the disgrace of all nobles and mages," the icy woman concluded to Rog.

After dealing with the two warriors, Aite and others were able to hold their ground with a three-to-two advantage. Kate, known for her defensive skills, wielded her sword to deliver a slash aimed at the female warrior's chest, successfully drawing her attention and absorbing most of the attacks. Aite and Franco were engaged in both offense and defense against another warrior. At this moment, Luns, who had stealthily hidden under the table, suddenly lunged with his sword, wounding the warrior's thigh, and then swiftly turned to strike at the female warrior's lower body. The female warrior, caught off guard, sidestepped and blocked the blow with the dagger on her thigh. At this moment, Luns, who had stealthily hidden under the table, suddenly lunged with his sword, wounding the warrior's thigh, and then swiftly turned to strike at the female warrior's lower body. The female warrior, caught off guard, sidestepped and blocked the blow with the dagger on her thigh

Beside the female warrior sits a delicate and refined noble girl, appearing to be only fifteen or sixteen years old. Her long dress, aside from its exquisite craftsmanship and luxurious material, has very few additional decorations. The only prominent adornment on the girl is a pair of sapphire earrings.

The atmosphere in the bar gradually reached a climax, occasionally erupting with a woman's shrill scream and several loud bursts of laughter. "Come on, Rog, let me introduce you. This is Luns... Blom, the second son of Count Blom; this is Kate, whose father is my dad's direct superior... And this is Franco, the nephew of Marquis Florent." Ait, with a slurred tongue, introduced Rog once more.

Beside Ophirok stood a woman as imposing as an iceberg, only slightly shorter than the towering golden lion. Her stunning features revealed no hint of emotion. Dressed in a rare black mage robe, she moved as if black flames were continuously rising around her, her swaying figure exuding an overwhelming allure. Behind her were two guards, slowly emanating a palpable aura of killing intent, indicating that they had traversed the realm between life and death countless times.

At this moment, in a room on the fourth floor of the tavern, Ophirok watched with great interest the retreating figures of Rog and the others.

On the morning of the second day, after three consecutive pet summons and exhausting his magical power, Rog finally accepted the fact that his pet was a skeleton. The routine meditation replenished his magic, and it was nearing dusk. "It is time to go for a drink"

The "Oak Grove" bar has been around for quite some time, is of considerable size, and is located just three blocks from the northern magic academy. It is also one of the places where mercenary guild tasks are posted. As a result, magic apprentices and mercenaries gather here, naturally accompanied by lively women and girls looking to catch a wealthy husband

Ophirok and his companions ascended the stairs without hesitation. After a long while, the bar gradually returned to its usual clamor. However, Rog felt uneasy; for some reason, he seemed to always see a pair of silver eyes in Ophirok's dazzling visage.

Another warrior, upon seeing this, immediately unleashed the sword technique "Dash," gliding forward with incredible speed as if skating on ice. Rog was taken aback, unable to cast a spell in time, and gritted his teeth to channel his mental energy once more, this time targeting the warrior's feet. The warrior, in the midst of his rapid dash, was suddenly tripped and came crashing towards Rog. Rog raised a table to shield himself, and with a thud, the warrior's head smashed through the tabletop. While the warrior was still dazed, the battle-hardened Rog seized the opponent's helmet and delivered a knee strike, resulting in a sharp crack as the warrior's nasal bone broke. The modified Rog's strength at this moment was already formidable.

Bang! A large wine glass exploded beside Roger, splattering ale all over the unsuspecting Roger. However, Luns fared worse, as the glass landed squarely on his forehead. Roger turned around and saw a fierce female warrior approaching with a large sword, followed by four male mercenaries, all in a battle-ready stance

The mercenary's mage had not participated in the battle, but unexpectedly, the situation took a sharp turn in an instant. Anger surged on his face as he traced a symbol with his finger, and a pre-prepared blue transparent protective magic "Magic Absorption" enveloped his entire body. This fourth-level magic could absorb at least level 10 magical energy and is one of the most commonly used protective spells by mages. However, Rog, who had a very unconventional understanding of magic, was unimpressed, saying, "Come on, is it really necessary to use a protective shield against a few magic apprentices?" This fourth-level magic could absorb at least level 10 magical energy and is one of the most commonly used protective spells by mages. However, Rog, who had a very unconventional understanding of magic, was unimpressed, saying, "Come on, is it really necessary to use a protective shield against a few magic apprentices?"

In the past, fighting over women in bars was a common occurrence for Rog and his companions. However, these few seasoned mercenaries were not something they could handle. As nobles, they had often bullied others, and it was unthinkable for them to lose face and flee. Rog considered escaping, but upon reflection, although these drinking buddies were not from prestigious families, they still had considerable backgrounds. Enduring a beating together could also help strengthen their camaraderie in battle. Rog thought about escaping again, but realized that despite not being from noble houses, these friends had their own wealth and connections. Enduring a beating together could indeed enhance their bonds in combat.

As the crowd drank more, Lunsar's lustful intentions resurfaced. With his eyes half-closed, he fixated on the female warrior's chest and her figure, while his hands danced provocatively in his lap, forcefully groping her bosom. When the female warrior turned around again, he struggled to pull his hand out from under her clothing, gesturing rudely with his middle finger. In response, the wine cup in the female warrior's hand shattered against Lunsar's forehead.

Rog's mental energy gradually extended, merging with the skeleton, as he began to attempt control and examine the skills of what might be a new type of monster. Everything went smoothly; this skeleton seemed to possess no special abilities, except for slightly greater strength than an ordinary skeleton. A wave of fatigue washed over Rog, and he realized that his magical power had been exhausted. "Sigh, in any case, you can be considered my pet now, and from now on, your name shall be Fengyue." Not wanting to delve into the relationship between the skeleton and the name Fengyue, Rog sent the skeleton back to the otherworld. At the moment the skeleton vanished, Rog seemed to sense a hint of frustration emanating from it, perhaps dissatisfaction with the name. "Sigh, in any case, you can be considered my pet now, and from now on, your name shall be Fengyue." Not wanting to explore the connection between the skeleton and Fengyue, Rog sent the skeleton back to the otherworld. At the moment the skeleton disappeared, Rog seemed to feel a trace of gloom from it, perhaps discontent with the name. Are you kidding me, is the skeleton also feeling gloomy? "I must be too tired."

This skeleton does not appear to be a high-level magical creature; it is hardly even comparable to a skeleton soldier. The entire frame is not large, indicating that the individual was not particularly tall in life. The bones are marked with mottled traces, and some bones, such as the crucial skull, exhibit several prominent cracks. As for the ribs, there are fewer than twenty in total, perhaps having been consumed as emergency food by some wild dog. The only distinctive feature is the two slender skeletal structures on the back, which seem to resemble wings.

At that moment, the bar suddenly fell silent for a brief moment, and everyone turned to look at the entrance. The first thing that captivated the crowd was a cascade of flowing golden hair, shining like the most dazzling sun, leaving everyone momentarily entranced. Beneath that golden hair was a handsome face that could rival that of the sun god, forever etched with a calm smile. He wore only a chainmail chest plate forged of gold, adorned with intricate patterns in magical silver. At the center of the chest plate was engraved a golden lion's head, embellished with a cross and tulips. He wore only a chainmail chest plate forged of gold, adorned with intricate patterns in magical silver. At the center of the chest plate was engraved a golden lion's head, embellished with a cross and tulips.

Elysse, don't you think that his, how should I put it, is somewhat similar to yours

I said, that girl over there is quite something, but she seems rather difficult to deal with. Luns stared at a corner of the bar. Everyone hurriedly followed his gaze. At a table in the corner sat four men and two women, looking like mercenaries, one of whom was dressed as a mage. One girl, around eighteen or nineteen years old, was dressed provocatively in dark short armor, exposing her long, fair thighs. A belt was strapped around her thigh, with three throwing knives inserted into it. The color of her breastplate was hard to discern in the dim light of the bar, but it was undoubtedly well-crafted and accentuated the curves of her chest. The neckline of the breastplate was very low, and a deep cleavage almost made Luns's eyes fall in. The greatsword beside her brought a slight sense of sobriety to a few people; after all, the weight of such a massive sword indicated the girl's strength. The female warrior's face was strikingly beautiful, with a head of light brown wavy hair casually draped around her.

The mercenary mage was preparing a fire-based attack spell, quickly reciting the incantation while drawing complex symbols with his hands. Rog remembered that "magic absorption" could not protect against physical attacks, so he grabbed a cup of wine and threw it at the mage. The mage had no time to dodge and was drenched. Following that, several plates of dishes flew over, along with a chair and even a table. In his disarray, the mercenary mage's spell was finally interrupted. Before he could express his anger, a figure lunged at him. It was Rog. Everyone knew that keeping a distance from a mage was extremely dangerous, so an unusual melee between mages began. Relying on his youth, skill, and a body modified like that of a magical beast, Rog quickly gained the upper hand.

"That mage is quite interesting," the Golden Lion murmured

The furious female warrior began to unleash a series of sword techniques, while the injured warrior with a wound on his thigh remained a formidable opponent. Aet and his companions struggled desperately, and the rigorous training that Aet and Kate had undergone proved to be effective. At that moment, a soft and slippery object flew silently through the air and landed with a slap on the female warrior's chest. With a sharp scream, she discovered it was a fried egg, clearly having been bitten into. It was Rog who had casually thrown it while grappling with the mage, not expecting it to yield such an unexpected advantage. Just as the female warrior recoiled in shock, Aet and his three companions launched a desperate attack on the injured warrior, fully unleashing the spirit of a rogue brawl. The warrior quickly received two more sword strikes.