The contract between an Arcanist and their familiar is not a one-sided enslavement, but a resonance of life's very essence.

  As Pierce crossed the threshold of the twelfth Will-Rune, his spiritual power became like a deep, tranquil pool. Consequently, Mistfeather, at the other end of the contract, underwent a qualitative leap in its life rank. Mistfeather’s instantaneous explosive power had now stabilized between $2.8$ and $3$ $Degrees$—the absolute physical limit of what a human Peak Knight could achieve.

  Under the dual cover of its Mistform trait and the darkness of night, it moved like a reaper walking through the cracks of reality.

  What drove the enemies to despair was the massive "Shadow Legion" contained within Mistfeather. Following this period of slaughter and conversion, the number of Mist-Crows harbored beneath its wings had surpassed the one-thousand mark. Each Mist-Crow carried a savage lethality comparable to an Intermediate Knight; combined with their ability to ignore physical volume, the black cloud they formed was a nightmare for any warrior.

  Combat erupted abruptly on the deathly silent street, the air instantly filled with the ear-piercing shrieks of metal clashing and wings vibrating.

  Thousands of Mist-Crows, like viscous black liquid, layered themselves around the four Great Knights, launching wave after wave of suicidal plunges. Facing these uncanny living mists, even the Great Knights dared not be negligent. They roared, channeling their Battle Qi wildly into their broadswords, each horizontal slash carrying an arc of light that tore through the air in an attempt to carve a bloody path through the dense black feathers.

  "Damn it! A familiar of this scale... is he truly just a Rank $2$ Initiate?"

  The leader of the cloaked men was struck with absolute terror. In their original intelligence, Pierce was merely a sheltered alchemical genius, and combat prowess was supposed to be his weakness. Yet reality had dealt him a crushing blow—even without moving, the target had driven them into a corner using a single crow.

  Just then, a shrill scream shattered the leader's thoughts.

  He whipped his head around to see one of his companions' legs entangled by thick, green vines as sturdy as pythons. The vines were covered in sharp barbs, crawling frantically upward through the gaps in his armor, binding him to the spot in an instant. This was a Strangling Vine trap Pierce had long since prepared.

  The trapped Great Knight tried to hack himself free but was held in a death grip by the swarming Mist-Crows.

  In the next heartbeat, a basketball-sized orb of green light, shimmering with eerie luminescence, sliced through the black mist, howling with the breath of death. The acid orb and the crow swarm cooperated with seamless precision, the swarm automatically parting along its trajectory. By the time the Great Knight sensed the lethal threat, the strong acid was already upon him.

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  Sizzle!

  The Battle Qi shield, capable of withstanding a barrage of crossbow bolts, dissolved like thin ice in boiling water upon contact with the acid. Immediately after, the corrosive slime coated his helmet. Thick white smoke and a piercing sizzle rose into the air, and a horrifying hole was instantly eaten into the Great Knight’s sturdy skull.

  He didn't even manage a full curse before falling heavily onto the cold stone pavement, his life force extinguished in a flurry of spasms.

  Pierce stood in the shadows, slowly withdrawing his outstretched hand, his expression unnervingly indifferent.

  With his current spiritual power, the intensity of this optimized Acid Splash reached nearly $9$ $Degrees$. Within the realm of Rank $0$ spells, this was a near-insurmountable ceiling of lethality.

  The remaining three Great Knights felt a bone-chilling cold. An ambush by four Great Knights against a Rank $2$ Initiate should have been a one-sided slaughter, but now the situation was entirely reversed. Fear, like a cold viper, began to crawl through their resolve.

  They exchanged glances and reached a consensus in a heartbeat: Retreat!

  "Trying to leave? Not without my permission!"

  Pierce’s tone rose slightly as he flicked his finger. An invisible Daze spell accurately struck one of the men attempting to leap into an alley.

  The Great Knight felt a thunderous boom inside his head, as if an invisible Arcane warhammer had slammed into the center of his consciousness. The impact, aimed directly at his perception, turned his vision black and instantly cost him his coordination.

  Even though a Great Knight’s body possessed immense resilience, this optimized mental shock left him paralyzed for nearly a full second.

  In the battlefield of Arcanists, one second is enough to decide life and death.

  Rip! Rip! Rip!

  Hundreds of Mist-Crows sensed the flaw in their prey instantly. They transformed into countless black arrows, their talons precisely slicing through the defenses at the throat and armpits. When the black cloud dispersed, only a mangled carcass remained.

  In a flash, the cloaked leader found himself alone.

  "Spare me... I can give you gold! Five thousand... no, eight thousand Gold!" he screamed desperately, trying to buy back his life.

  "When I kill you, everything on your person belongs to me just the same," Pierce coldly interrupted his delusion.

  Realizing survival was impossible, the leader’s gaze turned venomous. He let out a beast-like low roar, and his Battle Qi surged violently in reverse. His broadsword erupted with a blinding, sun-like radiance.

  This was his ultimate Battle Art.

  Boom!

  As the broadsword hacked down, a ten-meter-long crescent of energy swept forth like a crashing tide. Wherever it passed, entire swaths of Mist-Crows were instantly evaporated. The energy blade locked onto Pierce’s throat, screaming with a force designed to shatter all things.

  The shockwave struck the target head-on, kicking up a plume of dust.

  The cloaked leader panted heavily, a pathological grin appearing on his face. This strike's intensity reached at least $7$ $Degrees$; even an official Arcanist caught off guard at close range would surely die.

  However, as the dust was swept away by a light breeze, his smile froze.

  Pierce stood silently in place, surrounded by a pale blue, translucent arc of force. In the face of an impact that could shear through stone walls, not even the corner of his robe had been ruffled.

  The energy readout from the Ring of Protection showed: Single impact of $6.8$ $Degrees$. Intensity did not reach the shield's critical failure threshold.

  "Excellent force channeling. Unfortunately, you are facing the Truth."

  Pierce remarked calmly, then offered a slight wave of his hand.

  Caw!

  At Mistfeather’s cry, the black torrent circling in the sky converged once more. The despairing cloaked leader could only watch as the silent, black cloud completely swallowed him.