As he gripped Alan's staff-sword tightly, a mocking glint flashed in the steward's eyes.
Just a mere tier-iron mage, daring to challenge him—how bold!
But before he could even finish the thought, Alan unexpectedly released the sword and delivered a powerful punch.
The strike, heavy and thunderous, caught the steward by surprise, landing directly on his eye socket. Pain seared through him, causing him to stagger backward.
Seeing his attack succeed, Alan's eyes shone brightly with the light of his soul, like twin lanterns.
As the steward reeled from the blow, struggling to regain his footing, he realized his legs were sinking.
The ground beneath him had turned into a dark swamp, pulling him down.
A misty fog spread around, confusing his senses.
A magus!?
The realization hit the steward hard.
No wonder Alan had so readily abandoned his staff-sword; he was a magus at heart, using the sword merely as a distraction.
