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Inside the frost fawn's half-transparent body, a network of black-red lines spread like a spider's web.
Bleat!
The summon let out a sharp cry when it was only a few meters from its target.
Frost mana surged violently from its body, signaling its imminent collapse. The swirling currents of magic intensified, and a bone-chilling cold seeped into the battlefield and was carried by the winds, creeping into the bones of those present.
The barrage of black tentacles lunging toward Yselda froze mid-air, encapsulated by a thin layer of deep blue ice.
Some shuddered. Others remained unfazed.
Most of the mages had run out of mana by now, they could only watch while recovering.
The scorched earth, once ablaze, was now buried under a thin sheet of frost and snow.
Crack.
The fawn's body—now more black and red than light blue—fractured.
Fissures multiplied, spreading like veins of ice, before the creature exploded into pure frost mana.
Before the new wave of cold could erupt outward, the winds surged, swirling around the battlefield with the White Devil at its center.
This was no natural phenomenon.
The frozen tornado now forming was under Yselda's control. One hand gripped her staff, while her left, extended, followed a habitual movement as she manipulated the spell.
As her fingers curled into a fist, the raging storm compressed into a sphere of swirling frost, trapping the monster within.
The winds ceased.
Yet the cold intensified, radiating from the sphere with a suffocating presence.
Yselda lifted her gaze. Others followed. All eyes landed on the colossal sword suspended in the sky.
Its trajectory had slowly shifted, once again aimed directly downward.
Though the winds had died, mana still flowed, concentrated entirely on the frost sphere encasing the enemy.
After all, the spell that resembled an ice prison acted like a vortex, drawing in mana from the surroundings.
Had the celestial sword been a mortal spell, it would have already plummeted.
But divine mana was not so easily controlled.
Inside the frozen sphere, the White Devil stirred.
It slowly lowered its stance before—
Shrieeek!
The same bone-rattling scream tore through the battlefield. The creature's form exploded outward as it unfolded its arms, shrieking into the sky.
With the eerie cry came an aura pulse—one unlike before.
This was no longer a chaotic outburst of uncontrolled mana.
It was an Aura Burst—a skill created by aura users to overcome such troublesome situations.
Pure mana is condensed, then fired outward in an instant—this time in a needle-like pattern.
Countless black needles shot forth, piercing the ice shell around the White Devil.
Yselda flinched. A thin stream of blood trickled from her nose, stopping before it reached her lips.
She wiped it away with her thumb, her expression composed again.
The spell had held. The ice barrier remained intact.
Though the Aura Burst was more refined and powerful than the improvised myriad sword, its piercing nature alone wasn't enough to shatter the containment. Unlike the flexible, malleable tendrils from before, this attack had been honed into rigid, needle-like precision.
But it still wasn't enough.
The ice mended itself swiftly, trapping the enemy once more.
While Yselda held the line, Vek took the chance to recover.
Seated in the outer ring, cross-legged, two healing mages worked to close his wounds.
Before activating her spell, Yselda had already informed Vek of her plan—not through some mystical ability like Kael's, which could transmit thoughts and images seamlessly, but through Sound Whisper, a rank 3 attributeless magic.
A crude but effective tool. Its greatest flaw was that its easily detectable.
In battle, such magic was rarely used except in dire situations, lest enemies exploit its weakness.
But against mindless beasts and monsters, it remained a powerful means of communication.
Naturally, artifacts with the same function had been crafted—allowing messages to be exchanged over even greater distances through attuned devices.
Only a short time passed, less than two minutes. Vek exhaled sharply and rose to his feet, retrieving the sword he had planted into the ground.
His gaze flickered toward Kael and Liora before shifting skyward.
He turned to the mages behind him.
"Gather the rest of Squad 3. Prepare levitation magic."
His tone was calm—neither commanding nor overbearing, but steady.
One of the mages swiftly pulled a small artifact from his pocket and spoke into it.
Within moments, seven more magicians had assembled.
They encircled Vek, casting an array of spells upon him.
He stood motionless, surrounded by glowing complicated magic circles, his gaze locked onto the White Devil.
A sharp crack echoed across the battlefield.
A tendril had finally punctured the ice barrier.
Yselda's expression darkened, with a fierceness awakening in her eyes. There were faint trails of blood beneath both her nostrils.
"Commander, we're ready." the same mage reported.
"Good work." Vek lowered his stance, muscles tensing.
A golden glint flickered in his eyes. A faint, radiant aura engulfed his body.
Whoosh!
In an instant, he was gone.
Mages tilted their heads upward, watching as his form shrank against the sky, rocketing toward the massive celestial blade.
His ascent didn't slow. Within seconds, he passed the lingering sword—soaring higher and higher.
Fifty meters.
One hundred.
Only then did he stop.
"Now!" the mage commanded.
Squad 3 poured the last of their mana into a magic circle inscribed on Vek's body.
He glanced down, watching as a white sigil appeared beneath his feet.
Rank 4 magic—Air Step.
He landed upon the glowing platform, then launched himself skyward once more.
A grunt escaped his lips—too faint for anyone to hear.
A tendril had penetrated into his right leg during the heat of the battle, it was unavoidable. His flesh had turned black around the spot under his armor.
Still, he pushed forward.
Two hundred meters.
He had overshot the sword.
As his ascent slowed, he deactivated the levitation magic, allowing gravity to pull him down.
"In peak condition, a hundred-meter leap would be nothing... This damned monster, I've already lost all feeling in my leg."
Vek sighed. From his vantage, the battlefield below stretched vast and distant.
"Brother... To think I would meet the same end as you."
A wry smile touched his lips.
"I accept this fate gratefully—so long as it kills that bastard!"
The golden aura surrounding him intensified, blazing like a beacon.
Gripping his greatsword in both hands, he raised it high.
A massive golden blade materialized, extending five meters past his weapon's edge.
---
Liora's eyes slowly opened.
A strange silence filled her ears.
She was back atop the outer walls, her back resting against the cold brick.
Through her blurred vision, she saw a small orb of light in the distance.
Still half-asleep, she muttered, "Ry?"
A name she called her husband, Ryker, by when they were alone. A name that no longer belonged to the living.
Gasp!
A sharp intake of breath, and she jolted upright.
She exhaled heavily, staring at the stone beneath her.
"...The same dream again."
For a year, since her husband's death, the nightmare had haunted her without end.
"You're awake."
A calm, almost cold voice a little further away.
She recognized it without looking.
"Situation report?" she asked immediately.
Emotionless eyes met hers as Lyssara approached, a tea cup in hand.
"The battle is still ongoing." she replied coldly. "I left you here because i thought you would want to witness its conclusion."
Liora's eyes looked slightly up in the distance.
Far above, a radiant figure plummeted toward the towering celestial blade.
Dawn's Judgment.
A technique among the strongest of the Dawnblade family.
A finishing blow infused with pure light.
The battlefield stood at the edge of its final moment.
The user channeled an immense surge of light mana into their body and weapon, momentarily transforming into a radiant beacon. As they struck their target, a shockwave erupted, shaking the very landscape and pushing everything away.
Like an aura burst, the impact disrupted formations and enclosures, sending opponents flying with overwhelming force.
The patriarch had also used this attack during the catastrophe; perhaps this was the cause of her nightmare in her half-asleep state.
"That's right... I failed mid-cast."
She realized the current situation was a result of her own weakness. Yet, no one blamed her—except herself. To survive after channeling a divine spell was an achievement in itself.
Liora's understanding of the spell was unique. Even without prior knowledge of its existence, she grasped its properties instinctively, piecing it together from nothing—with Kael's guidance.
Lyssara, gazing into the distance, spoke in a measured tone.
"Matriarch, i suggest we deal with the undead immediately. Its body is at its weakest. Just give the order, and I—"
Her words were interrupted by a tired chuckle.
"I already told you, it's fine. He means us no harm."
A bead of sweat formed on her brow as she spoke with an uncertain, elegant smile.
She understood now, guided by Kael's insights—he was truly peculiar; unfathomable even. He possesed no mana. He was neither concealing it nor deceiving them. Yet his methods remained mysterious. There was no need to rouse a sleeping beast.
The land near the devil was now covered in snow, a stark contrast to the surrounding green grass and gray ashes.
Above, Yselda let out a soft grunt, blood trickling from her nose all the way down to her chin.
The ice barrier was failing. Though it could hold indefinitely against the white devil, she could not.
Every time a needle or tendril pierced through, her control wavered. Her focus cracked.
Clutching her staff with both hands, she focused intently.
(Now!)
She tightened her grip on the surging mana, steadying herself against the overwhelming force. A sharp pressure built behind her eyes, spreading into a dull ache. Then, with a faint pop, fine red veins spread across the sclera of her right eye, a telltale sign of strain.
The ice barrier shrank, pulling inward until it barely encircled the devil. Then, it began to change—its shape twisting subtly at first, then more drastically. It flattened into an oblate sphere, its surface rippling like disturbed water.
Then, in an instant, it imploded.
There was no deafening explosion—only a colossal burst of mana surging outward.
The strain on Yselda's body wasn't just from the effort—it was from the nature of the mana itself.
Ice mana followed her command effortlessly, bending to her will without resistance. Wind mana did not. It slipped through her grasp, unruly and untamed, requiring twice the focus for half the control. She could manipulate it, but she did not command it.
Simply put, her mastery was not enough for this killer move. She was forcing something beyond her reach, her talent for it was subpar.
Kael observed, a serene smile playing on his lips.
"How grand. If she perfected this technique, she could hold off a real demigod for some time."
The mana erupted chaotically, flooding the area in an uncontrolled surge. But this was no mistake.
As the energy dissipated, the surrounding mana was drawn inward at an alarming rate, rushing toward the monster like a collapsing tide.
The white devil stood motionless, a massive chunk of its side blown away by the imploding frost mana. Its regeneration faltered, sluggish—the frost clinging to its body had frozen the surrounding mana, stalling its recovery.
For a brief moment, mana stagnated, resisting its natural flow.
But mana, like air, sought equilibrium. When a void was created, it rushed to fill the space at an unstoppable speed—giving an immense push to the blade, that drove it downward, toward the desired target.
High above, Vek observed the shift, a broad grin spreading across his face showing his white teeth.
"As expected from a mage who can stand against the Great Seven!"
As the words left his lips, he swung his greatsword with all his might, channeling every ounce of his strength into a single, devastating strike-
"Dawn's Judgment!"
His voice thundered through the empty sky, carrying the weight of his conviction.
The sword cleaved through the air, generating an immense force. At the moment of impact, the clash of metal resounded across the battlefield, echoing even from 150 meters above.
Using the recoil and momentum of his strike, Vek hit the titanic blade, accelerating it further.
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