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Liora stood just a few meters away from Kael, her posture steady despite the chaos unfolding around her. As a 4-circle magician, she had the qualifications to enter the battlefield, though few would have expected her to stand among them; she was not a fighter after all.
Yselda had transported her here using the rank 6 magic, 'Teleportation'—a testament to both the urgency of the situation and the faith placed in her presence. The supporting mages surrounding them barely spared her a glance before refocusing on the battle, their minds too occupied to question why an alchemist had arrived.
In private, Yselda had opposed Liora's participation. She was a dear friend, someone Yselda cherished, and though it was customary for the matriarch of a warrior family to join the fray, these were not ordinary circumstances.
A god was wreaking havoc upon their land.
A fallen god.
Even as a rank 4 mage, Liora was not battle-oriented. She had dedicated her life to alchemy, following in the footsteps of Tess Dawnblade, one of the elders. But as Kael had explained, that was precisely why she was invaluable.
An alchemist's mana reserves were generally lower than those of a combatant. However, unlike warriors who needed days of rest after intense battles and training, an alchemist could use mana continuously without pause.
What did it mean to use mana? It meant drawing energy from the mana vessel, guiding it through the mana channels, and releasing it into the world.
Just like the physical body, the ethereal organs could be trained, strengthened through rigorous practice. The capacity of one's mana vessel, the durability of their channels, and their affinity to specific elements were all defining factors of magical talent.
The world might seem unfair in its distribution of talent, but balance could also be found. Is it possible to increase one's potential? Of course it is.
Magic materials and artifacts possessed near-limitless applications. Some could expand the mana vessel, others could fortify the channels, and some could even alter one's elemental affinity. The Dawnblades, now a former super-clan, had accumulated such treasures over generations. This wealth could also be attributed to the [Forest], as many bizzare materials were found inside.
Undoubtedly, the most prized of them all was the 'Mana Lake'.
Mana water was a treasure among treasures. It not only heightened the drinker's affinity toward the water element but also cleansed their mana channels of impurities. It's value was not difficult to understand; a talent raising material! Naturally, it was kept under strict watch and protection.
Yet, superior talent alone was not enough to guarantee true power.
Liora's talent had been only slightly above average. She had reached her current level through relentless effort and accumulated experience rather than natural superiority.
Alchemists were generally considered weak in combat for two reasons.
First, they lacked battle instincts; their experience in life-or-death situations was minimal.
Second, their understanding of mana was fundamentally different from that of warriors and combat mages. Rather than wielding mana for destruction, they studied its essence, combined materials, and experimented with theories to craft objects rather than spells.
Mana had endless applications, and each race utilized it differently. Humans, among other species, had categorized it into various disciplines. Alchemy, combat magic, daily enchantments, even for construction and artifact crafting. The needs of civilization had shaped many paths of mana research.
Still, to say that alchemists were useless in battle would be a mistake. No path was absolute; all paths intertwined.
Alchemists could use mana constantly. Unlike warriors, who strained their vessels and channels through combat and needed to rest, alchemists refined theirs gradually through continuous use. This led to a significant advantage: their mana channels developed faster, increasing both the quantity and flow rate of their mana.
This was why Liora was here.
Among the troops stood two rank 6 warriors: Vek, an aura grandmaster, and Yselda, a formidable sorceress. Rank 5 warriors—both aura users and spellcasters—also took part in the battle, rotating in and out to relieve Vek as he held the monstrous foe at bay. The mages provided crucial support, reinforcing their allies and binding the white devil.
The remaining were all rank 4, and they were mostly mages. As for the occasional aura user, stepping up against a true demigod would result in instant defeat, even after being buffed by magic. So they stood back and casted spells they were familiar with.
However, Liora, even as a rank 4 mage possessed mana channels that were on par with a rank 5. This made her extremely useful in Kael's plan, even as an alchemist.
In truth, Kael had once again referenced the soul, explaining that her soul was far more developed than many rank 6 warriors.
However, everyone was baffled by this comment.
Soul. Kael had mentioned this word many times, its meaning was rather vague.
In the beginning they assumed he was talking about the spirit of an aura warrior. Yet Liora was not an aura user, she was not even a combatant.
An air of curiosity filled the room during the meeting, but Kael continued to explain the plan without leaving any room for questions.
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After the devilish screech, the white devil unleashed its aura without restraint.
This crude, wasteful use of mana created a suffocating pressure, as if an unseen force was trying to bring the warriors to their knees. Yet, despite the overwhelming weight, they all stood firm, their eyes locked onto the beast as it fixated on Kael.
The young man stood relaxed, hands clasped behind his back, a faint smile on his lips.
Liora, only a few meters behind him, could feel the piercing gaze filled with killing intent. Cold sweat formed on her forehead, and she instinctively wiped it away.
"Fate is truly strange... to think i get to kill you once more." Kael said, his voice calm, with a content smile on his face.
"What?" Liora, who was the closest, heard his words loud and clear, staring in disbelief.
Blink.
For an instant, she shut her eyes. When they reopened, the white devil was already in front of Kael!
She stepped back, her gaze darting over the monster's form. Its spiky white hair now emitted a faint glow. Its mouth, once open in an eerie screech, was shut again, as if it had never parted. The creature leaned forward, balancing all its weight on the tips of its toes, and its right hand swung its sword in a diagonal arc from the top right.
Cling!
The clash of metal echoed across the battlefield as the warriors bore witness to the beast's full strength. The confidence they had gained from the battle crumbled in an instant.
A robust sword intercepted the violent swing just in time—before it could reach Kael.
Vek Dawnblade had matched the devil's speed, his movement near inhuman. In truth, his reflexes did not allow this. He had anticipated the attack. Kael had warned them—once he appeared, he would be targeted. Though the reason remained unknown, Vek had trusted the plan and could move accordingly.
Everyone, including Liora, had swiftly moved aside. Each of the white devil's strikes carried a force capable of tearing the land asunder. Yet Kael remained unmoving behind Vek.
Boom!
A massive scar tore across the battlefield as if a colossal whip had lashed the earth. Vek had barely managed to redirect the attack. Even so, the force he countered was immense, his hands were already numb.
Plop.
An arm fell to the ground.
"Who-" Vek muttered, his gaze flickering in momentary confusion.
He had expected Kael to move aside, following the others. He could not pay proper attention as his focus was on redirecting the strike.
Kael stood motionless, his face betraying no pain, no reaction. He didn't even glance at his own severed arm.
Vek felt a strange unease.
("No blood?") The thought barely had time to register before the white devil resumed its assault.
Above, Yselda hovered with an icy stare, a grand formation of magic circles expanding in the sky.
From the battle's start, Vek and his elite warriors had struggled, while the mages had restrained themselves, casting only binding or terrain-altering spells. Attacking outright had been too dangerous, the risk of premature retaliation too high.
But now that Kael had arrived, restraint was no longer necessary.
Yselda's cold gaze swept across the battlefield as the sky darkened. Attributeless mana gathered at a point, fusing fire and light magic into a massive solar flare. The concentrated light condensed into a pinpoint beam, then struck the earth, detonating the immediate area in a blinding explosion of flames.
"Solar Flare Wrath."
A hushed whisper spread among the soldiers. The pinnacle of mortality was unfolding before their eyes. Vek's struggle had been impressive, but he was simply outclassed.
The battlefield ignited anew, the fire from the spell took on a unique color, as the blood-red inferno started swallowing the land.
Kael stood amid the flames, shielded by Vek.
The goal was clear—divert the white devil's attention from Kael.
The perimeter mages recognized the spell as their signal. Spells of all elements rained down like a cataclysm, further devastating the land.
And the monster took the bait.
A black silhouette could be seen from the firestorm. As magic rained upon it, the white devil leaped skyward.
It could not fly. Without deliberate magic, it lacked the ability. But its speed was monstrous.
Yselda's eyes gleamed with violet-red mana. A soft smile touched her lips.
"Gravitational Shift."
The space below distorted, and a crushing force pulled downward.
The white devil, mid-leap, was halted instantly and sent plummeting.
Yselda's voice carried across the battlefield—not as a boast, nor from overconfidence. It was a signal.
After all, no sane mage would announce their next action; this was akin to a death sentence.
Across the formation, specialized mages picked up her words, even from such distances, and responded.
"Magnetic Light-Net Formation!"
Instantly, the nature of their attacks shifted. Lightning, light, and earth magic replaced all else.
Gravity could be manipulated in two ways: directly, with attributeless mana weaved into gravitational spells, or indirectly, with electromagnetic force.
The sudden gravitational shift yanked the enemy down, increasing its weight drastically. The ground pulsed with unseen energy, locking the devil in place.
A crater had formed upon impact.
A net of condensed light strings wrapped around the monster, binding it.
The spell would hold for mere moments—but that was all they needed.
Then, a shiver ran down Yselda's and Vek's spines.
("Rank 7 spell!") They recognized the sensation instantly. The white devil had been expelling mana erratically, unable to form structured spells.
But now, under pressure, it acted on instinct—manifesting magic beyond mortal ranks.
On the battlefield's outskirts, near the city walls, a similar force surged.
Kael extended his remaining arm, pressing his palm against the center of Liora's upper back.
Dragon Horn.
A relic emerged from within his robes, hovering near his chest.
The aura did not belong to Kael. Nor to Liora.
It came from the artifact itself.
Before the warriors' eyes, the horn shrank, breaking apart into tiny flakes, disintegrating into shimmering dust. As the particles fell, specks of light drifted upward, coalescing into a singular point.
Though the light was dim, its presence was anything but ordinary.
"As agreed, I will be using your channels now. Relax your consciousness as much as possible." Kael's voice was calm.
Liora took a breath, steadying her nerves, and closed her eyes.
As her eyelids fluttered open, golden light shone through the cracks.
Kael manipulated her mana, sending it surging through her refined channels. The floating orb of light drifted toward her abdomen, merging within her vessel.
The Dragon Horn had been separated into its tangible and incorporeal essences. Its physical form lay in a heap of dust. Its divine energy flowed into her mana vessel.
Liora's body convulsed. Agony unlike anything she had ever known tore through her. She was, after all, not a combatant, pain was not familiar to her.
She tried to scream, to move—but an invisible force held her in place. A feeble groan was all she could manage.
Kael's eyes were shut, his focus absolute. Within her, he observed her mana vessel, encircled by four slow-rotating rings, proof of a 4-circle mage.
The rings moved separately, but in perfect synchronization, never straying from their path.
Then, suddenly—the pain stopped.
Liora tried controlling her erratic breath, her mind hazy, unable to comprehend what had changed.
Gasp!
The sound of astonishment rippled through the battlefield.
Behind her, Kael's expression darkened.
Deep red cracks had formed on his throat and neck, splintering his skin like fractured glass.
Slowly, those cracks crept upward—toward his face.
But the people's focus was not directed to him. They were staring up into the sky, beyond Yselda's floating silhouette.
A majestic and gigantic sword was forming, with its blade pointed down, towards the battlefield.
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