Chapter 1108: Emperor's Might
Berger's sudden arrival and the calamitous strike he unleashed upon both Daggett and the Northern District brought a momentary halt to the battlefield where the other Mana Core Magi clashed.
In the mountain range north of the city, silence reigned for a few moments, broken only by the crackle of flames and the sickening hiss of burning flesh.
The entire expanse of land north of Ravenfell was engulfed in a sea of black flames, and within that inferno… tens of thousands of undead creatures writhed and perished in unending agony.
Towards the beginning of the battle, the four Mana Core Magi of the cult had unleashed a terrifying horde of undead, not to battle their enemies, but to envelope the city in death and rot. Needless to say, their plans were quite nefarious for the city of Ravenfell.
But unfortunately for them, Balthazar's magic was the very bane of thier wretched, undead existence.
So when the cultists summoned their horde, Balthazar was there to greet them with fire, his flames so fierce and unyielding that they instilled fear in the hearts of these cultists. His fire burned hotter, darker, and more mercilessly than ordinary fire.
That was how he came to be known as Blackfire Balthazar.
Flying high above the snowy peaks, the burly figure of an elderly man turned around and looked at the giant cloud of light and dust with visible surprise.
"Such a powerful mana combat technique!" The elderly Magus exclaimed. He was none other than Balthazar.
He turned to another elderly person, levitating in the near distance. This person, however, seemed ancient. To call him an elderly person would be an understatement.
"Old Man Acadia," Balthazar called out. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Gerald Acadia, the former emperor, too, turned toward the source of the major disturbance, his eyes narrowing. Although he couldn't identify that ruinous technique, he was, however, able to discern the mana signature.
He turned back around, focusing on his opponents. His lips parted and he flatly muttered, "Yes, it's my disciple… Berger."
Balthazar whistled in surprise. "Goodness arcana! If you had something like that in your arsenal, why didn't you use it? We would have long since been done with these cultists."
Gerald's lips twitched.
"…That is not a technique I taught him."
Balthazar was at a loss for words. "What… wait, then how did your disciple learn of it? A legacy left behind by those ancient Magi from Mabi? But surely, you would have known… yes?"
Gerald's face darkened. "No, I do not know."
He paused for a moment, then spoke with slight indignation in his voice. "It probably has something to do with my grand-disciple. That boy… he's full of secrets."
Balthazar was momentarily stunned, then his lips curled into a wide smile. "The Dark King, eh? Say… you think you could get the boy to sign on a piece of parchment? You see, my great-granddaughter is a big admirer and today is her birthday, so I was thinking—"
Gerald growled, interrupting him. "We'll talk about that once the battle is over! Be serious, Balthazar!"
"Ah, it's a promise then." Blackfire laughed out loud.
Slowly, his grin disappeared, replaced by a cold, predatory expression. Four cultists stood before him, floating in mid-air. They were supported by eight undead knights. But suddenly, two of the eight undead transformed into a deathly blur as they flew towards the city.
Almost instantaneously, Balthazar prepared to give chase, but right at that moment, the Emperor Emeritus outstretched a hand. "Stay."
Then, he scanned the vast expanse of the mountain region and spoke in a solemn voice, "Silent King, take care of them."
Balthazar frowned. Although the Silent King hadn't taken any action yet, just his presence—or rather, the lack of it—struck fear in the hearts of the cultists, making them wonder when the infamous assassin would stab them in the back.
So he couldn't understand why Gerald would send the expert assassin back to the city, and relieve pressure off their enemy.
What is he thinking? Balthazar wondered, but he didn't say anything.
And the next moment, an eerie voice that was neither male nor female, echoed all around them:
"As you command, Your Majesty."
And then… there were two against ten.
Balthazar muttered in a solemn voice, "Old Man Acadia… what are you planning?"
The Emperor Emeritus spoke to him through Mind Whisper:
'How long can you contain those six undead knights?'
Balthazar's brows furrowed ever so slightly, then he truthfully answered:
'A minute… maybe two. Why?'
'Good,' said Gerald. 'You do that. Leave the cultists to me.'
Then there were no more words left to be said. Balthazar trusted Gerald's judgment, so in the next moment, they both disappeared.
Since Balthazar's magic was very effective against undead creatures, he was tasked with dealing with the knights. Moreover, he was a very powerful Mana Core Magus in his own right, so it was possible for him to hold the enemies down for a small period of time.
Blackfire coiled around his fists like it had a will of its own. In the blink of an eye, Balthazar appeared right before the undead knights. The black flames flared into brilliance and formed dozens of writhing tendrils.
They lashed out, ensnaring the knights in a crushing grip, and with a thunderous roar, Balthazar hurled them against the distant snowy peak.
He then flew in that direction a heartbeat later. In an instant, the roar of flames and the bone-crushing impact of fists smashing against cold flesh thundered across the mountain range. Several peaks crumbled under the devastation, yet Balthazar relentlessly drove the undead monsters down, violently pinning them beneath his might.
On the other side, high up in the air, the cultists had no time to worry about their summons. Because the Emperor Emeritus was already upon them.
His choice of weapon was a pair of thick chains etched with magical runes. With every swing of his hands, the chains multiplied. Two became four, four became eight, until the cultists found themselves surrounded by a world woven entirely of deathly chains.
Every spell hurled by the cultists was effortlessly intercepted by the countless chains. At the same time, Gerald sealed their movements within this sphere of chains. He was a master of sealing magic, after all, and sealing magic reigned supreme over the domain of space itself.
Gerald poured a considerable amount of mana, his expression turning vicious. The next moment, the movements of the cultists inside the sphere slowed down considerably, as though they were struggling through thick, suffocating quicksand.
The Emperor Emeritus's hands blurred, and the next moment, he vanished. He teleported behind a cultist, delivering a crushing punch to the spine, sending the man hurling into the sea of black flames below.
Then, two massive portals tore open in the sky, and from them, a pair of colossal ancient chains violently lashed out, striking two more cultists. Both of them were sent hurling away into the far distance, blood spraying through the air.
Now, only one cultist remained.
Gerald poured even more mana into his spell, teleporting in and out of the material world. By the time his figure stabilized, his face had grown deathly pale. However, the last cultist was already bound by chains, his movement utterly frozen for a brief second.
Seizing the chance, Gerald grasped the other end of the chain tied to the cultist and swung with all his might. With a thunderous boom that rolled across the land, the cultist's body slammed into a distant mountain wall, carving a crater into the stone.
And then, a cold gust of wind swept across the battlefield. Out of the haze, a figure emerged… long, ash-bond hair flowing behind pointed ears.
A single flash of sword light split the air.
SLASH!
In that instant, the entire mountain, along with the cultist, was cleaved clean in two.
The sharp ring of the blade sliding back into the scabbard echoed across the range. When the dust finally settled, the figure of an elf could be seen standing upon the freshly cut peak.
Nylian of the Red Wind had arrived!