Irion seethed with rage, yet beneath that fury lay a gnawing dread. Now that the tall Voroe Sage had fled, Zalasar and the white werewolf would concentrate their power solely on him.
That ant he would be facing three devastating Sage Tier powerhouses on his own, which was tantamount to suicide. The Vorotallicae knew he had to escape as quickly as possible, though he could already sense how complicated that task was going to be.
Vlad decided to strike with all the power he had left. He unleashed a furious burst of energy, pushing himself far beyond his limits, willing to endure a backlash. Crimson lightning crackled across his muscular fra, and flickers of fire moved around his arms.
He had already thwarted the ambush planned for Graecia’s forces and saved many lives, but there was an even greater prize in his sights: if he could kill a Voroe Sage outright, it would remove any suspicions about him and the others. After all, no group would sacrifice a Sage rely to plant a spy.
"BOOOOOOMMMM."
Fire and lightning spiraled together in a massive explosion as Vlad lunged at the smaller Voroe. His leg, charged with an enormous amount of fla and crackling electricity, ca down in a vicious kick aid directly at Irion’s head.
Irion, reacting with lightning reflexes, brought up his massive spiked club to block. For a heartbeat, the two remained locked in a stalemate—Vlad’s flaming leg pressed against the massive club. Neither the Voroe nor the Depravita could budge the other, and the surrounding air crackled with destructive energies.
That brief deadlock proved disastrous for Irion, however. He could see Zalasar and Ouroboros cutting off his escape routes. The pounding of hooves and the werewolf’s snarls filled the air, telling him they planned to circle around and ensure he had nowhere to run.
Fueled by hatred and a sense of imminent peril, Irion made a split-second decision: he channeled a portion of his life force to amplify his Sage Ability. A searing light flashed around his entire body, and the sudden spike in power alard Vlad, whose eyes widened in dread.
Realizing sothing catastrophic was about to happen, Vlad kicked off Irion’s club with every ounce of strength he could muster, launching himself backward.
Ouroboros and Zalasar also sensed the danger. With impressive agility, Zalasar yanked the reins of his warhorse, forcing it into a sharp turn that strained the beast’s joints. The werewolf, likewise, sorsaulted away with a fluid motion,
Their caution proved wise. In the next heartbeat, a wave of gravitational force exploded from Irion’s body, expanding outward like a shockwave and violently hurling everything around him.
The ground fractured, leaving gaping fissures that rumbled ominously while shards of rock and debris flew in all directions.
Despite trying to evade, Vlad was caught by the gravitational blast’s edge and catapulted several thousand ters away. He crashed into the earth but, to his relief, sustained no grievous injuries. Still, a deep scowl marred his features, clearly displeased that the Voroe had managed to buy himself precious ti.
Irion, seizing the opening he had created, ascended skyward. Gravitational ripples still emanated from his form, repelling all attempts to attack him at range.
The Voroe Sage’s malevolent gaze fell on Vlad far below. Hatred radiated from Irion’s eyes as he uttered a nacing promise. "I will rember this."
Without further hesitation, he turned, fully intending to flee. His battered body was weakening from the intense outpouring of life force, but he believed he might still escape. However, before he could make his getaway, an unexpected voice bood from within one of the modest supply wagons in the caravan.
"Rember this, you son of a bitch!"
That shout was charged with a fierce, commanding presence. At the sa mont, a torrent of flas erupted from the wagon.
These were no ordinary flas. They were dark golden and burned with such intense heat that every drop of moisture in the vicinity—blood, dew on the grass, and even the water in the air—began to evaporate. The column of fire shot upward with alarming speed, coalescing in midair into the shape of a three-legged crow wreathed in dark-golden brilliance.
Panic surged through Irion. His instincts shrieked that he had to flee imdiately, but even his newly heightened power might not be enough.
The fiery crow spread its flaming wings, and with a single flap, it hurtled forward like a teor. Vlad, watching from a distance, observed this phenonon in shocked silence. The manifestation of flas crashed through Irion’s gravity field as though it were a fragile barrier, then barreled into the Voroe Sage himself.
Locked together in a cataclysmic impact, the crow of golden fire and Irion slamd into a distant mountain, their collision producing an earth-shattering detonation.
"BOOOOOOMMMMMM!"
In a blinding flash, the entire mountain crumbled, flattened by the imnse destructive force that rippled outward in a shockwave. Dust and shattered stone filled the horizon.
Vlad could only stare at the devastation. Though he was well-acquainted with powerful spells, this one seed especially formidable. He recognized that the crow’s power derived not only from the monstrous heat of its flas but also from its breathtaking speed. Its montum had amplified the destructive force, making it nearly impossible to dodge.
All eyes turned toward the wagon from which the fiery crow had erged. Standing atop the wooden planks, bathed in a lingering aura of dark-golden flas, was a young man who appeared to be around two and a half ters tall.
His physique was imposing, with bulging muscles and an undeniable vitality that emanated from every pore. He wore a majestic, gold-plated armor that glead even beneath the settling dust and ash. Yet despite his formidable physique, arcane energy pulsed visibly around him, indicating that he was a Mage—and an extraordinarily powerful one.
"Lord Aganon!" Zalasar shouted, guiding his warhorse forward. A deep frown settled on the knight’s face as he approached the young man. His voice dripped with both relief and admonishnt. "My lord, you were supposed to remain hidden until we arrived at the Golden Sky Fortress!"
Despite Zalasar’s obvious deference, Aganon did not adopt the aloof arrogance that so many nobles and scions displayed.
Instead, he gently nodded, acknowledging Zalasar’s words with calm composure. He answered in a steady, resonant voice, "I understand, Zalasar, and I truly intended to remain concealed. However, the threat was already upon us, and I deed it worthy to reveal myself if it ant killing a Voroe Sage."
Reviews
All reviews (0)