Azure Scepter

Page 14

"So the other party is currently..."

The paladin looked up sharply—high in the sky, a black dot was falling rapidly.

The other party teleported me into the sky!

Chapter 21 Sonic Boom Cloud

The wind howled past his ears, the icy air cutting like knives into the old mage's face. The thin air was invigorating; the old mage's pale face regained a sliver of color due to the lack of oxygen.

He was falling rapidly, and the tiny black dot on the ground was expanding at a visible speed.

The intense sensation of falling assaulted all his senses; the part of his brain responsible for balance had completely malfunctioned; dizziness and nausea spread like tentacles deep within his blood vessels, clinging and adhering...

The old mage Loft took a deep breath, the cold air instantly filling his lungs. He calmly took out his fixed-casting kit from his pouch, then slightly raised his right hand and began to chant the incantation for the first spell he had learned during his distant apprenticeship—Featherfall.

As the first syllable escaped his lips, a surge of magical energy instantly filled his body, and a feeling of euphoria and excitement, akin to being intoxicated by oxygen, welled up in his heart. His muscles, which had been out of control due to fear, now trembled even more violently because of the pleasure of mastering power.

He even developed the illusion that he was invincible.

However, the old master knew perfectly well that this was just an illusion—therefore, he simply followed the steps in his mind, using the gestures to outline the corresponding constraint form, just as he had done hundreds of times before.

The movements may be stiff, but they are precise enough.

As the last syllable slipped from his throat, a sudden yellow light, representing a transformation spell, flared up, abruptly halting his descent. The sudden, reversed acceleration felt like a hammer blow, making his bones creak all over. But the razor-sharp, howling wind vanished instantly, the raging storm now tamed into soft clouds beneath his feet.

Although he is still falling, his speed is changing at an unusually slow pace—he is now almost floating.

The attacker on the ground, who was as ferocious as a savage, looked rather bewildered, and the old mage couldn't help but smirk.

“What makes a master a master is wisdom,” he murmured to himself. “It’s time to teach this young man a lesson.”

“That’s a bold tactic.” Trier looked at the mage casting Featherfall in the air and couldn’t help but be surprised. “All it takes is a dispel spell and a turn to stone to smash him into mincemeat.”

"Unfortunately, the holy magic does not include these two simple spells."

“It is also not feasible to perform the ritual of drawing the magic circle on the spot, as it would take too long.”

After a moment's thought, the paladin abandoned the idea of ​​using magic to counter his opponent and began to consider other strategies.

“After using Featherfall, the falling speed will be about three meters per second. Judging from the opponent’s casting speed, he can cast at least nine spells before landing.” The paladin’s mind raced. “Even if he suddenly goes mad while preparing his spells and decides to transform into a turret-type Evocation Barbarian, nine spells are enough to grind me to dust several times over.”

"Even if we stall until the opponent lands, he can use the same trick again. Therefore, the best approach is to find another opportunity to ambush him later."

Trier finally concluded: "It's time to retreat, but before we go..."

However, at that moment, he caught a fleeting glimpse of light out of the corner of his eye.

Trier looked in the reflection and saw a figure that had appeared on the second floor of the south building at some point.

It's Futia!

The other party was constantly adjusting the angle of the mirror in their hand, seemingly trying to remind themselves by reflecting light. After a moment, the elf gently put down the mirror and picked up the compound bow.

Her stealth skills were astonishing; she was like a shadow in the dark, her every movement perfectly aligned with the changing light. If the elf hadn't specifically used a mirror to warn the paladin, he wouldn't have been able to detect her.

Trier instantly understood the elf's plan, and in a flash, he came up with a good way to deal with the mage.

—Destroy the ritual array beneath your feet completely!

"Once the constraint node collapses, the fog wall will develop huge cracks. Cracks in the fog wall will cause a drastic change in the ventilation environment, which will generate strong winds. Given the current ventilation environment, there is a certain probability that he will be blown down directly, and there is also a high probability that he will be blown into Futia's range."

With this thought in mind, Trier picked up the holy emblem and began to chant incoherently.

His pronunciation was perfect, like something out of a textbook, but the combination of syllables was horribly disordered, causing the surrounding "principles" to stir. A sharp, needle-like pain surged through his skin.

Ritual arrays are extremely precise and rigorous systems, but Trier's actions at this moment were like a madman swinging a sledgehammer with all his might to frantically attack a sophisticated integrated circuit. Just two seconds later, the already flawed ritual of the Silent Whisper Society completely lost its balance and instantly collapsed.

The magical winds around him went completely berserk!

The ritual lines, drawn from expensive materials, emitted a ghostly wailing sound, and a bolt of purple lightning suddenly exploded in the air.

The corpses of the spellcasters within the magic circle abruptly lost their color, as if they had been roughly erased by an eraser. As the color of the corpses disappeared, their lines gradually disintegrated into shadows, which then merged into the ground.

[Warning: You have been slightly injured due to negative energy. Current health status: Minor injury]

A spiderweb-like crack suddenly appeared on the distant fog wall, and then the crack continued to expand, with the fine cracks constantly expanding and tearing the fog wall apart. After a brief delay, the fog wall suddenly exploded with a large hole!

"boom!"

A strong wind carrying the stench of decay suddenly rushed in!

Trier squinted as the strong wind blew, while the mage in the air was blown about like a headless fly. However, the old mage regained his balance after only a short while.

"His proficiency with the Featherfall spell is very high," the paladin thought. "He even completed a spell while adjusting his balance."

"No fireball came crashing down on us, which means the opponent is putting up a protective shield first, most likely against projectiles—a very standard mage strategy: when they have the advantage, they don't rush to win, but instead eliminate potential threats first."

"good chance!"

The longbow was suddenly drawn to its full length, and the long arrow, gleaming with a cold light, instantly aimed at the mage in the air.

The bowstring was taut, and the constant pain in the tip of the thumb kept the elf remarkably calm.

She gripped the bowstring with her thumb, gently pressed her index finger against the back of her thumb, and held the other two arrows between her ring and little fingers.

“At this distance, the size of the grains of sand will cause an error far from the target when aiming,” she muttered to herself. “Feel the wind, Futia.”

"Remember to anticipate."

She released the bowstring.

The old mage looked down at the ground, his hands moving rapidly, the third spell about to be completed.

"First, use the speed-enhancing spell to strengthen those undead cannon fodder and hold off the attacker, then cast an invisibility spell on Baum..."

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a hidden, cold light—a flying arrow.

"Ridiculous," the old mage thought. "Does anyone really think I'd be foolish enough not to release the protective arrows?"

So he nonchalantly refocused his attention on the spell model.

However, the next moment, a sharp and ear-piercing roar suddenly came! The rapidly approaching shriek even reminded him of the wailing of a banshee.

The mage had barely turned his head when the arrow slammed into the "Arrow Protection" spell shield with tremendous force. In an instant, the spell shield groaned under the strain, followed by a sharp cracking sound!

"What a joke!?" Even the experienced old monk's heart skipped a beat.

His spellcasting skills were extremely solid; his "Protective Arrows" had even withstood a volley from five crossbowmen. But now, his reliable spells were on the verge of collapse, like glass being struck by an iron rod.

Fortunately, the arrow was deflected after shattering the protective shield. The terrifying arrow grazed the mage's face, tearing away a large piece of flesh.

The old monk touched his left ear with lingering fear; the sharp roar had temporarily caused him to lose his hearing.

What shocked him even more was that a cone-shaped cloud of mist was spreading along the trajectory of the arrow.

"Sonic boom cloud?"

He quickly canceled the Featherfall spell, attempting to evade the opponent's next shot by changing his descent speed.

However, the old mage failed.

Almost at the same moment the first arrow grazed his face, his mithril chainmail suddenly burst into flames. The old mage was struck as if by a heavy blow—a tremendous force pierced his chest, and the thin air was violently squeezed out of his lungs. He felt as if he had been hit head-on by an armored warhorse!

"Rapid fire? From that distance?" Everything in front of the mage was stained with blood; he knew he was doomed.

The next moment, a third short arrow silently pierced his throat.

The explosion of the ritual array was so loud that the Silent Whisperers patrolling the perimeter finally reacted. Dozens of decaying undead, controlled by several cultists, charged straight at the paladin, mixed in with a few rather agile ghouls.

The sighs of the undead rose and fell, the surging corpses gathered together, a dense mass of rotting heads staring intently at the paladin. From this distance, Trir could clearly see the faces of the cultists and the undead.

The cultist in chainmail, wielding a heavy hammer, hid among the walkers. He had been expressionless, but suddenly his eyes widened as if he had seen something incredible.

"Fodia succeeded," the paladin thought.

The next moment, a sharp sonic boom roared in.

He turned his head slightly and looked up at the sky.

Three cone-shaped sonic boom clouds remained in the air, while the old mage's mangled remains crashed straight to the ground.

"A sonic boom cloud?!"

Trier's calm, composed expression, as if everything was under control, froze.

Chapter 22 Slash with the Momentum!

The cone-shaped sonic boom cloud slowly dissipated.

After a moment of confusion, Trier forced himself to calm down, and then he immediately came to two conclusions: "First, the bow and arrows that Futia used were magical weapons, and their specialization was to reduce energy dissipation."

“Secondly, elves can draw their bows with a pull exceeding 450 pounds and fire rapidly, while maintaining accuracy.” The paladin took a deep breath. “That’s outrageous!”

Although the undead in the distance continued their numb march, the cultists hiding among them clearly showed signs of wavering. Trier even clearly saw a cultist in chainmail quietly retreat to the back of the crowd when his comrades weren't paying attention, and then turn and run away.

"Listen to me, tell of the sons of the mountains we have heard of." Suddenly, the paladin heard the song of the dwarf blacksmith.

The sound came from behind the horde of corpses, its resounding rhythm carrying power like a rolling boulder.

As the blacksmith sang, he moved his short legs at an extremely fast pace, wielding his warhammer as he charged towards the horde of corpses. His momentum was like that of a knight charging at farmers with a lance, although he was soon bitten on the arm by a zombie and cried out in pain.

Trier took out the Holy Symbol, first casting a piety shield on the dwarf and himself, and then jumped into the battle to begin reaping the rewards.

"Bang!" A burst of white light erupted, and a transparent arm guard phantom near the dwarf's arm vanished in an instant. The teeth that the zombie had bitten into his arm were shattered.

"I am invincible!" The dwarf laughed as he smashed the toothless old zombie's head, then immediately retreated, wisely moving his legs at a faster pace than he had come, quickly moving away from the slowly surging, decaying undead.

Trier brandished his longsword, each heavy hum of the blade raising a cloud of blood mist, and with each cloud of blood mist rising, tiny golden lights would emerge from the remains of the walker and then flow into his body.

Another slash—the cold blade, trailing a brilliant white streak, sliced ​​through the head of a ghoul, then swiftly cut into the abdomen of a cultist who was waiting for his chance.

Before the cultist could even utter a cry of alarm, the paladin suddenly swung his sword and plunged it into the cultist's brainstem through his jaw.

[You have acquired the skill: Slash]

[Slash: Instantly slash two enemies within range of your weapon]

As if by divine intervention, Trier swung his longsword, tossing the corpse aside. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he stomped his waist, instantly clearing out the hordes of zombies that had just surrounded him.

His efficiency in slaughtering the undead instantly increased by an order of magnitude. With each swing of the paladin, an area centered on him and with the longsword and arm span as its radius would become a death trap for the undead. Even if some armored undead were lucky enough to survive, their feeble counterattacks were completely extinguished by the protection of the piety shield and chainmail.

Minutes later, corpses littered the ground.

The lingering mist had dissipated, and the sun was nearing its midday high. The warm sunlight dispelled the chill, but the light also seemed to be tinged with a blood-red hue.

The dwarf stared silently at the corpses strewn across the ground. The stench of negative energy mingled with the smell of blood, pervasive everywhere. The unclosed eyes of the dead were also everywhere, making him feel nauseous. Yet, the thought of so many of his neighbors dying at the hands of these cultists and undead forced him to open his eyes wide and observe more closely.

After looking at it for a while, everything in front of me actually presented a strange sense of art. Dozens of corpses were densely arranged on the flat ground of what used to be the market, but none of them had any extra wounds. They all had only one fatal wound—they were all killed cleanly and swiftly with a single blow.

For example, the cultist in front of us who can't close his eyes and is wearing chainmail has had his trachea severed by a single sword strike.

The blacksmith knew him; he used to be an officer in the town's garrison, a man who liked to buy on credit and play dice, but was very kind to everyone. He never expected that he would also become a henchman of the Silent Whisperers.

The wound on the officer's throat was neither deep nor shallow; the cut wasn't gruesome, but rather somewhat resembled...

The dwarf frowned, carefully considering his choice of words. This feeling of pondering words was somewhat like an itch under the skin, elusive yet impossible to scratch, a feeling that made him somewhat agitated.

A moment later, he recalled the rather tongue-twisting phrase—"physiological and anatomical structure display specimen"—a term he had learned when he was a mercenary in the Southern Swamps.

“This plague must have been caused by those undead monsters,” the dwarf thought. “It must be their conspiracy to invade the world of the living.”

The next moment, his delicate and sensitive heart felt a kind of indescribable anxiety.

"It's practically witchcraft..." He looked at the corpses scattered all over the ground and felt a strange sense of fear.

If, back when he was an adventurer, the dazzling swordsmanship of those who lived on the edge of death was still within his comprehension, then now the martial arts of paladins were no different from sorcery to him. Those rather formidable undead seemed to be manipulated before Trir, each one willingly charging towards the blade.

When paladins slay the undead, it's as easy as the most skilled prospector in the "Bald Mountain" digging for stones.

The retired adventurer couldn't help but steal a glance at the paladin.

At this moment, the paladin was drawing and painting on the ground with some strange materials he had collected from the corpses, his expression very focused.

"They must be comforting the dead," the blacksmith thought. "The paladins are indeed good people; they're even willing to collect the corpses of their enemies."

—The dwarfs were wrong, terribly wrong.

Trier, of course, couldn't afford to waste time comforting the dead.

He is currently drawing an enormous corpse explosion spell circle.

Based on the speed of the Silent Whisperers' response to the Fog Wall's alarm, they should have about ten minutes to arrive and provide reinforcements, giving Trier ample time.

This gave Trier ample time to leave the cultists with a big surprise before he departed.

Once they step into the ritual area, they will be met with an extremely violent explosion.

Since the energy supply for the sub-constraint nodes mainly comes from the town hall, the magic circle, which is part of the energy enrichment and distribution, continued to operate after the ritual completely collapsed—based on this, the paladins made slight modifications to it.