Chapter 67: Giving It Their All

“Yes, although Rollin’s constitution is extremely weak, his perseverance is quite remarkable. I believe he will achieve significant accomplishments in the fields of magic and alchemy in the future. But as for this battle, while his tenacity is commendable, in the face of absolute strength, his chances of winning are still far too slim.” As Rollin charged forward again, Misius couldn’t help but think to himself.

Rollin dashed toward the golem, who responded with its usual, unadorned ferocity—a powerful punch aimed straight at him. This time, Rollin didn’t try to dodge. He knew, given the speed, he wouldn’t be able to evade it anyway. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing himself for defense.

With a heavy thud, the golem’s fist crashed down on Rollin’s forearms. He grimaced as the impact nearly dislocated his arms. Fortunately, his preemptive defense just barely withstood the third-level golem’s brutal strike.

Now that he was finally close to the golem, Rollin used every ounce of his strength to drive his knee into the golem’s abdomen. There was a muffled sound as his hardened knee struck solidly. A flicker of joy rose in Rollin’s heart.

This was the tactic he’d just devised. Since his speed, strength, and defense were all inferior, his attacks couldn’t afford to be as wide and open as before. Instead, he had to use short, sharp, and swift strikes—quick jabs that might catch the opponent off guard. The success of this blow validated his strategy.

Yet, he had forgotten—he was fighting a golem, not a human. The golem felt no pain. His knee, though forceful, only made the golem stagger back two or three steps, nothing more. The next moment, the golem stepped forward as if it had suffered no blow at all, resuming its relentless assault.

Bitterness welled in Rollin’s heart. He had calculated everything except the opponent’s immunity to pain. He’d hoped that, after landing this blow, the golem would fall in agony, and he could seize the chance to unleash a storm of attacks and defeat it. Now, all those hopes were dashed.

It was too late for regrets. Seeing the golem’s renewed attack, Rollin forced himself to focus, adopting his previous strategy—defense first, striving to avoid taking too much damage, and looking for rare opportunities to strike back.

Misius nodded slightly, thinking, “It seems the boy Rollin has a good head on his shoulders. He knows his weaknesses and how to play to his strengths. With that, he can hold out a while longer. Still, against a third-level golem, this strategy can only delay the inevitable. It won’t change the outcome.”

Sure enough, at first, Rollin’s “defensive counterattack” approach worked reasonably well. He managed to block some of the golem’s assaults, sometimes seizing a chance to strike back with his elbow, head, or shoulder. Once, his powerful elbow even left a minor dent on the golem.

However, as time wore on, Rollin could no longer keep up. After several heavy blows to his arms, they were nearly broken, and his strength rapidly waned. Even raising his arms to defend became a herculean effort.

Finally, during one of the golem’s fierce attacks, Rollin was too slow to lift his arms, and the golem’s fist landed squarely on his chest. His ribs creaked ominously, nearly snapping, and his body was hurled backward, crashing hard into the wall behind him. Blood gushed from his mouth and nose, pain searing through every limb—any movement sent agony lancing through his wounds.

Clutching the wall, Rollin struggled to his feet, gasping for breath. Only when his breathing steadied did he straighten and once again step toward the golem. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to rest; it was that more than an hour had already passed. If he didn’t defeat the golem within two hours, he would never obtain the potion formula to cure little Hawk’s leg!

Misius watched Rollin, who could barely walk straight, yet still advanced to face the golem. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but in the end, said nothing. His estimation of Rollin’s resilience quietly rose once more.

No sooner had Rollin entered the combat circle than the golem struck. In a flash, it smashed aside Rollin’s raised arms and immediately followed with another punch that landed squarely on his cheek. There was a sickening crack and Rollin’s face was twisted out of shape, blood spurting from his mouth and nose, splattering the once-white wall in a vivid, shocking red.

The ferocious punch lifted Rollin off his feet. As he sailed through the air, the golem surged forward, leaped high, and kicked Rollin hard in the waist.

This blow sent Rollin flying, crashing brutally to the ground. He groaned, but still tried to get up. However, his arms gave out beneath him, and he collapsed again.

In the three small rooms of Rollin’s home in Borson Town…

“Mother, when will Brother come home? He didn’t come back to watch fireworks with me during the last Warrior’s Festival. I really want to play with him. I want to hear his stories.” Little Hawk, his frail body perched in a wheelchair, looked out the window, his voice plaintive.

“Don’t worry, your brother will return when he’s strong enough,” Isa replied, sitting by a large wooden basin, scrubbing a heap of laundry. It was a meagerly paid job she’d found in town to help support the family. Although she spoke reassuringly, Isa’s heart was restless and uneasy for reasons she couldn’t name.

In another room, the floor was scattered with clocks and parts. This was Gergil’s workspace. Over the years, he had kept the family afloat by repairing these battered clocks. Usually, his hands were quick and steady, but today he was distracted. A tool slipped from his grasp, smashing a neat row of gears into disarray.

In Dormitory 2015, Mahler, Gerbaz, and Bill had finished their classes and were chatting idly.

“Second, third, when do you think Fourth will come back from the Maya Mountains? He left to train before the holiday, and it’s been almost two months. You don’t think something’s happened to him, do you?” Mahler asked.

“Don’t jinx it, Mahler! Fourth is skilled, you know that. In just two years, he rose from a first-level to a third-level mage. That’s as fast as the two great prodigies at Potter Academy, Thomas and Crixon. He’s even on par with Bill’s sister, Victoria. And he’s a necromancer, with a head full of cunning ideas. There’s no way anything could happen to him in the Maya Mountains!” Gerbaz clapped Mahler on the back, disgruntled.

Bill agreed, “That’s right. Fourth’s only been there for less than two months. My sister’s been in the mountains for more than half a year and hasn’t returned yet. I’m sure they’re both fine!”

“Your sister is a fifth-level mage, at least she can protect herself. But Fourth’s cultivation is still too low. It’s odd, but when you mentioned him just now, I suddenly felt uneasy,” Mahler mused.

In the Maya Mountains, inside the Sanctuary of Misius.

Covered in blood, Rollin once again summoned all his strength to struggle to his feet. He had lost count of how many times the golem had knocked him down. His vision was a blur, but he forced himself up again, as if driven by instinct. In his heart, a voice urged him on: Little Hawk has, at most, nine years left to live. If you defeat that golem, his life will be as long as anyone else’s—not just a meager nine years!