Unfortunately, all three of them were mistaken. The one charging at Kvedo and his companions was not a Bard or a Light Supplicant, but a Solar High Priest—a genuine Mid-Sequence Beyonder, and the Sequence that offers the greatest improvement on the Sun Pathway before becoming a demigod.
However, Kvedo and the other two were not Beyonders of combat Pathways. On the contrary, their Pathways were among the weakest in terms of combat ability among all Pathways, or at least for now, their Sequences had not reached a qualitative change.
Nevertheless, Kvedo's expression remained unchanged. He was the first to charge forward, not fearing a direct confrontation, but making his utmost effort to get close to the opponent. The opponent let out a light 'hmm,' clearly not expecting these young people, who seemed to lack combat ability, to have such courage to fight him.
Although not interested in killing these young people, since the deacon had given the order, these people were destined to die here. After all, there was no need for heretics who wielded knives against him to survive. Since he enjoyed the divine radiance every day, it was only natural to be killed by the radiance's believers. Thinking of this, the Zealot couldn't help but reveal a compassionate expression.
Although Kvedo charged forward without a word, Karl weighed his options. He knew he was useless except for some saber techniques he learned in his youth, which he himself knew were nothing more than flowery moves. Moreover, he only had a dagger on him. Thus, Karl knew he could only watch Kvedo rush forward while he himself remained a mere spectator.
However, Karl clearly saw the gentle smile on the Solar High Priest's face. Then, looking at the broadsword he wielded into a blur and Kvedo being forced to dodge everywhere, Karl's mouth twitched. Was this a believer of the Eternal Blazing Sun? Why did he look so… odd?
"You stand here, don't run around. Protect yourself, and we will take you away."
At this moment, Erich, who was beside him, said calmly. Although there was no hint of discrimination in his tone, in the eyes of the hot-blooded youth, it felt like a heavy slap.
Therefore, although Karl was not a child and was well aware of his own feeble combat ability, and also knew that Erich was right, even the most seemingly calm young man would get a rush of blood to his head.
"Looking down on me?" This thought flashed through Karl's mind, but he didn't care that Erich's words, though cold, conveyed a warm meaning.
And Karl's actions were faster than his thoughts. In an instant, he charged forward like an arrow, his movements, of course, in a standard saber stance.
But how many of the sword instructors hired by nobles nowadays truly possessed real skill? Or, to put it another way, even if they had real skill, would they make these delicate young masters painstakingly practice those moves?
However, Karl was not foolish. He understood the situation and chose his timing precisely when the Zealot was briefly exhausted after a powerful cleave.
"A long inch is strong, a short inch is dangerous." Although this famous saying did not exist in this world, for the people of this world, who had experienced many wars, this saying had long been summarized. Therefore, Karl had no doubts about his ability to win, or rather, he was sure he would not suffer a loss.
Karl felt a bit proud: "It's just an enemy. Although I have no practical combat experience, the books I've read, the words I've heard, and the scenes I've witnessed can all provide me with experience. This is my advantage."
Unfortunately, every situation in this world is unique. Even things categorized as the same type by people will not be exactly alike. To judge the present based on past experience is simply ridiculous.
Methodology is merely a way of thinking, a direction, but not a true solution. What truly works is a specific method combined with practical application.
Using his own experience as a guarantee of victory, Karl was undoubtedly in danger.
The Zealot seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, as if he never tired. At the same time, he defied human mechanics, cleaving his broadsword at Karl in a posture unimaginable to ordinary people.
Karl watched the broadsword cleaving towards him, but could only barely halt his forward momentum. But it was too late; the sword had already reached above his head. Karl felt the chilling coldness of the sword, and so he desperately closed his eyes.
Before closing his eyes, Karl seemed to see Kvedo rushing desperately towards him, while the enemy's still benevolent expression made Karl feel his situation even more absurd.
Silence. Karl seemed to feel a different kind of tranquility.
But gradually, Karl realized he hadn't died, and his hearing slowly returned to his senses. It was then that he heard the words of the person beside him, so cold yet full of warmth—it was Erich!
"...You made three Errors. First, you shouldn't have refused to listen to my command. This is a battlefield, and my experience is richer than yours; you should trust me unconditionally. Second, you shouldn't stubbornly cling to past experience. As a well-read person, we should believe the knowledge recorded in books, but more importantly, we should explore with skepticism. Third, you underestimated a field you didn't understand, thinking Beyonders were like your conjectures, even rashly almost paying with your life to settle it..."
Karl immediately felt that he had made so many Errors and couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. He didn't expect Erich to continue.
"However, your courage and challenging spirit are commendable. Come, be careful. Let's face the enemy together." Erich concluded with this sentence.
"Mm." Karl didn't say much, just nodded and stood behind Erich.
It was then that Karl realized Erich had somehow pulled out a rapier and was wielding it to force his opponent to retreat steadily.
But the Zealot, though retreating, did not lose his composure. Faced with Kvedo's watchful gaze, he showed no panic, defending without a single flaw.
"As expected, it's those heretics who blindly believe in knowledge, from the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom," the Zealot coldly shouted after being forced back once more.
"See, Rosell and the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom are indeed colluding, aren't they?" A hoarse voice rang out, "We both benefit from cooperation."
"Very well, Lord Jacques instructed me to act according to circumstances, so I shall temporarily accept your cooperation on her behalf," the Zealot said coldly.
"That's wise. We are all people suppressed by Rosell. If he also brings in external aid, our situation will be even worse. Let's kill the Gelin Family heir, this CIA traitor from the Haimer Family, and this spy. Consider it a lesson for Rosell. What Governor? All paper tigers." A red-haired person walked out, his face full of murderous intent.