Duke Charles Luminaris gazed down from above, his eyes mirroring the raging fire he had called into existence.
He lowered his hand, and the Fla Sword descended.
The mont the sixty-foot blade of fla mana sliced through the air, its sheer heat ignited everything within a fifty-yard radius, long before the steel-like mana even reached the ground. The central annex of the Vistro manor, already weakened by the earlier battle, combusted on its own. Stone walls lted into glowing orange liquid, and the air itself seed to scream as all the oxygen was used up.
The knights and maids who had survived the effect of earlier clashes were not so lucky this ti. Those caught in the imdiate crossfire didn’t even have ti to scream; they were vaporized instantly, their physical forms reduced to nothing. A group of knights, attempting to retreat toward the back gates, was swallowed by the expanding heatwave. Their armor, ant to protect them, beca a molten coffin that fused to their skin in their final, agonized seconds.
The Vistro family’s legacy was being erased by the very person who was supposed to save them.
When the sword finally hit the ground where Edward was, everything turned into a do of bright, white light.
BOOM!!
A massive shockwave, more powerful than any explosion the estate had ever witnessed, erupted from the point of impact. The ground under the manor cracked, creating a crater as big as a church floor. The force was so imnse that even the Duke, hovering in the sky with the stability of an Archmage, was sent staggering back three steps through the air.
Charles steadied himself, a small, cold smile on his face. The heat from the crater was enough to lt diamonds. "No one survives a direct strike from my Blade," he said to himself, his robes waving in the hot wind. "Not a High Mage, not a monster, and certainly not a boy."
However, as the haze began to clear, the Duke’s face changed completely.
His smile disappeared, replaced by a look of fear. In the middle of the burning crater, Edward Vistro wasn’t a pile of ash. He was standing tall, his torn clothes barely moving, his eyes staring at the Duke with a look of power.
Between Edward and the towering sword were Seven Golden Mana Seals.
It was the celestial spell, the Seven Golden Revolution Seal. All seven rings hovered in a vertical stack above Edward’s head, each one a complex geotric web of runes. The topmost seal was currently in direct contact with the tip of the Fire Sword. Despite the sword’s imnse heat and the weight of the Duke’s Archmage mana, the golden seal didn’t even flicker. It held the blade back with the ease of soone holding a toothpick.
The Duke’s heart raced. He knew right away that the aura from those seals was like nothing he had ever felt in forty years of cultivation. It was sothing... better.
"A Celestial Spell!" the Duke’s mind raced. "How? How can anyone in this world know a Celestial Spell?"
In various magic academies across the seven kingdoms, Celestial Spells were only talked about quietly in class, treated as old legends from a forgotten age. Even the Duke himself had once doubted their existence, dismissing them as exaggerations written by scholars who loved myth more than truth. But now, standing before Edward, he understood. They were not stories. They were real.
But how did the duke recognise a celestial spell?! It was taught that when a celestial spell is used, it’s aura didn’t shake the senses; it cald them. It was like hearing a beautiful hymn being played across reality. The Duke heard it—the faint sound of many instrunts, from the deep hum of the zither to the light sound of the harp, all playing together in perfect harmony.
Just like a demonic spell releases a corrupted intent that sickens the heart, the holy hymn carried its own power. The beautiful song washed over the Duke’s senses, causing his focus to slip for a brief mont, almost making him lower his guard. He imdiately shook his head, and his fla mana surged, burning away the calm and peaceful feeling before it could take root.
The threat level of Edward Vistro had just increased a tenfold. If the Edward of minutes ago was a dangerous rebel capable of killing a Marquis, the Edward of now was a catastrophe—a being who, if left alive, could besiege the entire kingdom.
Charles Luminaris laughed wildly. The shock was gone, replaced by the need to really kill Edward.
"Amazing!" the Duke shouted, his voice shaking the sky. "A Celestial Art! The heavens have truly blessed you, boy! But can your holy circles stand up to the full power of an Archmage? Can your spell survive seven hits from my blade?"
The Duke raised his right hand high, and the giant Sword followed his movent, pulling back from the golden seal and ascending fifty feet into the air. The Duke’s red aura turned a shade of blinding white, the heat increasing.
"FIRST STRIKE!"
The Duke dropped his hand. The sword fell with the weight of a teor.
CLANG.
The shockwave sent a visible ripple through the atmosphere, flattening the remaining buildings of the outer estate. The first golden seal didn’t dent.
"SECOND! THIRD! FOURTH!"
The Duke struck in rapid succession, the air filled with the deafening thunder of fire eting gold. Each strike was enough to level a city, yet the Celestial Spell remained as unyielding as a mountain.
"FIFTH! SIXTH! SEVENTH!"
The final strike was a concentrated burst of the Duke’s entire mana pool. The collision created a pillar of white light that could be seen from the capital city miles away. When the light faded, the golden seals were still there. They were perfect. Not a single crack appeared in their golden surface.
Charles was dumbfounded. Even as an Archmage, he could not comprehend the depth of this power. A High Mage’s mana should have been exhausted after the first strike, yet Edward looked as though he hadn’t even begun to fight.
The Duke beca irritated. He didn’t hesitate. He bit his thumb, the blood glowing as he rubbed the red liquid across his open palm.
"From the dying embers of the primal fla, I invoke the sovereign of the burning skies. Rise now, eternal Fla Phoenix, and answer my call."
The sky above the Duke tore open. From the rift erged a creature of pure, living fire—a spirit whose wingspan blotted out the horizon, its eyes two burning suns that looked down upon the world with rciless hunger. The Archmage’s elental spirit had arrived, and the true battle for the Vistro territory was about to begin.
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