Chapter 97: A Magister Is Dead
The rebels and their mercenaries advanced onto the distracted Orders of the Winter and Snow like a wave. More and more gunshots sounded as the mercenaries dealt with more serious opponents.
But even distracted, the magi of the orders were dangerous. Here and there, the mercenaries met resistance, and some of them were wounded or even killed by the ice spells of the enemies.
And the farther the mercenaries advanced, the more opponents were ready to fight against them. The shots of the revolvers were so loud that they drew attention from everybody.
Even the fighting magisters have heard it.
***
Some time ago, when Melchior fell to the ground, everybody was near-convinced that he was a goner. Benedictus lunged after him, about to pin him to the ground with his ice spear like a butterfly—to the horror or cheers of the several magi who could see this happening.
But as he was lying on the ground, bleeding from his wounds, Melchior grinned in the face of his opponent and crushed a blue jewel in his fist—his secret trump card.
The blue dust turned into light that flashed through Melchior’s fingers, lighting the entire street. Under this light, all mana turned inert and heavy. A few magi on the roofs screamed in shock and fell to their knees. Their bodies felt like lead, and they had trouble even breathing.
Benedictus, who was about to crush Melchior, felt the same. The spells he was sustaining suddenly dissipated, and his ice spear and armor melted into nothing! He only had his Sceptre of Command again.
Instead of slamming down on Melchior, he landed awkwardly nearby, twisting his ankle.
"Melchior!" Benedictus shouted. "This—was this a Null Gem? It won’t save you! Its power of negating magic is only temporary, and I will only need my sceptre to bash your head into these cobblestones!"
Melchior was similarly affected, but he was ready for the effects of the Null Gem. He was already up on his feet and pulled a pair of daggers from the sheaths on his chest and snarled.
"If you fought as well as you brag, I’d be dead already. Let’s dance!"
The two magi clashed in melee. Both of them had a similar mastery over their weapons and were similarly slowed down by their wounds. Melchior was faster, but Benedictus had heavier blows. Melchior had a lot of scrapes and bruises, but Benedictus couldn’t hold his weight on a twisted leg.
Even while they were weakened, the magisters fought at such speeds that other magi found it hard to interfere.
Worse, they couldn’t feel auras in the range where the Null Gem was still working. To many of the magi who were far away, it seemed that the magisters had both died, and it brought confusion into their ranks.
When the rebels began their attack, this confusion led to the magi’s swift deaths.
Meanwhile, the magisters even now couldn’t find who was the strongest. Strike by strike, they tired each other out... but couldn’t make the decisive blow.
Eventually, they began to feel tinging in their auras that meant that the effects of the Null Gem were wearing out. On powerful Citrinito magi, it would only work for a few minutes, while weaker magi could suffer its effects for an hour or even longer.
It was then that Melchior and Benedictus heard the shots, and the reducing influence of the Null Gem let them sense what was going on in the city.
And the rebel force.
"Is this your ploy again, schemer?" Benedictus asked, smashing his Sceptre of Command over Melchior’s crossed daggers.
"You thought I had only one trick in my sleeve? My reserve force is going to crush whatever is left of your pathetic snowflakes!" Melchior gloated.
His opponent’s eyes widened in shock, and his hands weakened just for a moment.
Melchior seized the opportunity. He twisted from under the Sceptre and side-stepped until he was at his opponent’s side with daggers poised.
This time, Benedictus was just a little too slow. The daggers stabbed under the joint of his arm, where a lethal and painful point was.
"Noooo!"
As Benedictus fell, spurting blood from his new wound, Melchior grinned.
"Idiot! I have no idea what is going on out there and who the newcomers are, but before I kill them, I will thank them for this victory. Goodbye, Benedictus. Never liked you."
The other magus tried to make a magic gesture, but Melchior cut his throat earlier. He shook the blood off his daggers, sheathed them, and picked up the Sceptre of Command from Benedictus’s limp hands.
Next, Melchior jumped onto the nearest roof, feeling his limbs becoming lighter again.
"The Magister of Snow is dead! Who dares to attack the Order of Winter now? Show yourselves... Or I will show YOU!"
***
Reynard thought his forces were advancing quite well until he sensed a powerful aura suddenly emerging as if from nowhere.
Then, he saw a gray-haired man in torn and bloody robes jumping onto the roof of a house several streets away with effortless grace. In his left hand was a long crystal sceptre with a small spiky sphere on top of it—almost like a morningstar.
Reynard had never seen the man before, but he recognized him by his power and the symbols visible on his robe.
’Melchior, the Magister of the Order of Winter! So he survived... What about the other one?’
That question was answered very quickly, and then, Melchior’s eyes focused on Reynard and Marien.
He had never seen them in person—they were ants beneath his feet. But he also saw mercenary magi attacking and killing people from the Orders of Winter and Snow, and the soldiers marching alongside them, finishing the wounded and taking control of the streets.
Next, Melchior raised the Sceptre of Command in front of him and let it go of his hand. However, instead of falling, the artifact stayed floating in the air.
With its power strengthening the ice influence in magic, Melchior read his next spell.
Just a single glance at how much mana was being gathered into it told Reynard that it spelled trouble.
"Love, let’s split up and try flanking him!" He pointed to the side. "Don’t try getting close. Or far. Or... Just don’t die, yeah? A single blow..."
Marien scoffed.
"I know! Better watch out for yourself, my prince. And line your shot well!"
She jumped away, landing heavily on a roof several meters away. Reynard shook his head and turned to move, too.
In this moment, Melchior finished his magic.
"Fly, my birds! Bring death and ruin to the weak!"
He raised his hands, and a flock of ice birds flew from the Sceptre of Command toward the rebel forces. Poorly controlled, they barely sought the targets, but their sheer numbers were enough to cover entire districts in ice explosions.
And Melchior focused, directing several dozen of his ice skylarks specifically at the two magi with the strongest auras.
When Reynard saw them approaching, he knew that they were scarier than their size suggested. They glowed too brightly.
He ran to the side, trying to run around Melchior over the roofs, but the birds turned to follow him.
Several explosions, followed by screams, sounded on the streets below Melchior as the first ice birds landed.
’Shit! Fine, I hope this gets rid of you!’
Reynard cast a simple fire bolt at the closest bird, and it evaporated in steam and cold mist—but the rest followed, getting only closer.
’Damn it! I hoped they would all explode like the first ones!’
With no other choice, Reynard pulled out a hand bomb and threw it at the birds.
CABOOM!
It exploded so close that Reynard himself was thrown back a step and almost slipped on the roof shingles. But the birds were all evaporated in the explosion.
In the distance, Reynard saw Marien fare better. She was throwing lightning bolts at the birds, eliminating them one by one, or even several at once.
Then, the last two caught up with her at last and exploded. With a scream of pain and shock, she fell—but caught herself before she could slide off the roof.
Her Spirit Armor still held.
Reynard let out a breath of relief, but it was short-lived.
While he and Marien avoided the birds, the soldiers and mercenaries from rebel forces fared much worse. They fell in droves as ice skylarks exploded around them. Soldiers could do little more than raise their shields. Some magi tried to shoot the birds down, but their Nigredo-stage elemental bolts were just too weak.
It was utter mayhem over there. The frozen mist and fresh snow made it nearly impossible to even see what was happening.
’Where is that help Amelia promised... We are going to be destroyed if Melchior casts his birds just one more time!’
Then Reynard turned to Melchior, and their eyes met. The magister smiled unkindly.
"Some tricks in your sleeve, hm? I feel like I should know you, magus. But also that you are an enemy. So let’s see if you are worth my time!"
