Reyon led his loyal Squad 5 through the shadowed corridors of the Classers' headquarters with unwavering determination. Every step was measured, every movement precise. The corridors, carved into ancient stone and lit only by faint enchanted orbs, seemed to echo the silent promise of retribution. Behind him, his men moved like phantoms—each one resolute in their cause.
Earlier, he had sent the signal to Julie—disguised as Emily—so that she could lead Squad 4 on a forged mission, drawing away a crucial portion of enemy forces. Simultaneously, a detachment of royal guards had been dispatched to engage and distract Squads 1, 2, and 3, keeping them occupied and away from his true objective. Now, with his plan set in motion, Reyon advanced steadily toward Berth's private chamber.
As he neared the stronghold's inner sanctum, his heartbeat quickened. Though he knew he was about to face an 8th-circle mage—a formidable adversary whose very presence inspired fear—Reyon felt no terror. He had been tested before by the most daunting of magics; he had faced spells cast by the only 9th-circle mage and the strongest existence alive, his own grandmother Min Hee. Her lessons had tempered him, and her parting words echoed in his mind:
"You are now as strong as an 8th-circle mage. Remember, your strength lies not only in your spells but in your resolve."
That memory steeled his spirit. Though the coming battle would be difficult, Reyon was confident in his abilities. He had prepared for this moment, and the fire in his eyes promised that he would not back down.
Before reaching the chamber, two figures stood guard outdoors—two 6th-circle mages patrolling the perimeter with vigilant intensity. Reyon quickly assessed the situation; these mages, though powerful, were no match for the disciplined force of Squad 5. Without hesitation, he signaled his men. In a flurry of coordinated precision, his warriors surged forward. The ensuing clash was fierce: arcs of shimmering energy and cascading spells filled the air as the 6th-circle mages attempted to repel the intruders. But Reyon's squad moved like a single entity, their resolve and training overwhelming the guards. Within moments, the two mages were subdued, leaving no trace of resistance to impede Reyon's advance.
Now, standing alone before the shattered threshold of Berth's chamber, Reyon took a deep breath. His eyes swept over the carnage—the chamber's once-imposing door lay splintered on the floor, and the walls bore deep, jagged cracks. The destruction was the work of his recent spell: a Wind Surge, meticulously enhanced by the precision of σ three times over. Though it was fundamentally a 5th-circle spell, his clever use of vector manipulation had amplified its power to rival that of a beginner-level 8th-circle spell. The shock of its impact had reverberated through the headquarters, a stark reminder of the potency of his magic. Yet even this magnificent display did little to allay the gnawing thought in his mind: it might not be enough to bring down Berth, a seasoned veteran of the 8th circle.
Then, amid the echoes of the ruined chamber, a deep, resonant voice boomed through the chaos.
"Who dares to attack me in my own house?!"
From the rubble emerged Berth himself. Surrounded by a pulsating barrier of mana—a shimmering aura of raw, defensive power—he surveyed the scene with burning fury. As his gaze fixed on Reyon, his eyes widened in disbelief.
"You—a mere 5th-circle mage—are you truly capable of unleashing such power?" Berth roared, his tone thick with scorn. "Where is that bastard hiding? It must be the Knight Commander—the only other 8th-circle mage in the Kingdom of elise, aside from me!"
Reyon's lips curved into a defiant smile. "If you want to know, follow me," he retorted coolly.
"No!" Berth bellowed, his voice trembling with rage. "Stay here!" But before the tyrant could finish, Reyon was already a streak of light, darting away with preternatural speed.
The chase began in earnest. "You bastard!" Berth roared, his voice echoing off the shattered stone as he hurled himself after Reyon. In a display of raw magical might, he raised his hand and unleashed his signature spell: Hellfire Burst. From his outstretched palm, a torrent of inextinguishable flames erupted—a blazing inferno that carried the searing heat of the netherworld itself. This was no ordinary fire; it was an unyielding blaze that could reduce anything it touched to ash, its flames consuming everything with an insatiable hunger.
Yet, Reyon was prepared. With a fluid gesture, he formed a Vector Field around himself—a protective shell of meticulously arranged mana and energy. The Hellfire Burst met his shield head-on, and in an explosion of shimmering sparks and dissipated embers, the inferno was dispelled. For a moment, the clash of elemental power illuminated the darkness with an otherworldly glow. Berth's eyes burned with shock as he stared at the spectacle, his mind racing. I knew this kid is more than he appears, Berth thought, his voice barely a whisper in the fury of the battle. How can he simply disperse Hellfire so easily? No... he must be protected by some antique artifact! But as he accelerated, his determination mounting, a grim realization set in: no matter how much he sped up, Reyon remained just out of reach.
"How is he moving faster than me?" Berth bellowed, his voice shaking with both anger and disbelief. An 8th-circle mage like him should not be outpaced by a mere 5th-circle mage, yet here was Reyon, gliding effortlessly through the corridors of chaos.
The chase led them out of the ruined halls and into an open field under the inky sky. The stark openness provided no shelter, forcing Berth and Reyon into direct confrontation. At length, Reyon slowed, coming to a deliberate stop.
Breathing heavily, Berth skidded to a halt behind him and scoffed, "What, tired from running away?"
Reyon turned slowly, his eyes gleaming with calm determination. "Look carefully," he said in a measured tone. "You look more exhausted than I do."
For the first time, Berth was forced to confront an undeniable truth. His face, normally composed and arrogant, was slick with sweat. His breathing was labored, and the aura of invincibility he had so carefully maintained was cracking under the strain. In stark contrast, Reyon appeared as fresh and unruffled as when the battle had begun. The secret lay in Reyon's mastery of vectors. Over the years, he had learned to absorb ambient energy from his surroundings, channeling it through an intricate network of vectors that he had painstakingly cultivated within his body. This technique allowed him to convert raw mana into sustained energy, staving off fatigue even during prolonged combat.
"You bastard, Reyon—you have a death wish," Berth snarled, his pride wounded by the sight of his own exhaustion. With a burst of anger, he raised his arms and invoked a spell: "Rock Shudder!"
In response, the skies darkened ominously, and from the heavens, a barrage of massive boulders began to descend. Dozens of colossal stones, each one capable of crushing even the strongest of warriors, rained down upon Reyon like nature's wrath. But Reyon's calm never wavered. He had faced far greater perils during his rigorous training with Min Hee, where he had withstood falling debris and destructive magic alike.
With a fluid motion, Reyon cast his Vector Barrier once more. The barrier materialized as a translucent, angular shield, its surface shimmering with the kinetic energy of countless arranged vectors. As the boulders struck, the barrier deflected their enormous weight effortlessly, redirecting them away from Reyon. With precise control, he manipulated the redirected projectiles, turning them on their caster. The boulders soared back toward Berth with unerring accuracy.
"WHAT?!" Berth roared, momentarily stunned as the very weapons of his assault rebounded. His barrier trembled under the impact, and for a brief second, he was rendered speechless by the audacity of Reyon's counterattack.
Unwilling to yield, Berth regained his composure and immediately summoned another Hellfire Burst. This time, he channeled the spell into concentrated, fireball-shaped infernos, launching them at the incoming boulders. The hellfire engulfed each projectile in a blistering blaze, melting them into pools of molten rock almost instantaneously. A bitter laugh escaped Berth's lips as he observed the destruction, his mind racing with both anger and grudging respect.
Reyon thought "If I take that head-on, even my barrier would melt!" He focused, and with deliberate precision, he cast a series of three symbols upon Berth's spell. The effect was immediate: the potency of the Hellfire Burst was depleted, its ferocity reduced dramatically, and before anyone could react, it was dissipated by Reyon's ever-reliable Vector Field.
Berth's voice trembled with disbelief and fury. "What? You even deflected that? It seems beginner-level spells won't work on you at all." His eyes blazed as he assessed his next move. "Let's see if you can handle something more advanced—Thunder Swing!"
Dark clouds gathered overhead as if summoned by Berth's will, and a low rumble of thunder began to build. The very air seemed charged with electricity as Berth's mastery over thunder magic came to the forefront. With a swift, practiced motion, he unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts—dozens of searing strikes that cascaded down from the stormy skies like nature's own retribution. Each bolt crackled with raw, primal energy, their jagged paths illuminating the battlefield in flashes of brilliant light.
Reyon's eyes narrowed as he braced himself. This was no mere trifle; Berth's Thunder Swing was a spell honed to near perfection. In his previous life, Berth had been hailed as a genius among thunder element mages—a rare breed whose command over lightning was almost absolute. Had he lived longer, Berth might well have ascended to peak 8th-circle mage, but even then, his prowess was already legendary. And yet, even with such fearsome magic at his disposal, Berth still had a trump card Hellfire, known as the "defense breaker"—a spell so potent that no known defense could withstand its fury; one had to dodge it, for to be caught was to face instant, irrevocable death.
"Your tyranny ends here, Berth," Reyon vowed aloud, his voice echoing with the power of his conviction. And as the thunder rumbled overhead and the storm of magic swirled around them, the battlefield became a crucible where the future of the Classers, and perhaps the entire kingdom, would be forged in fire and lightning.