Lyle stepped from the jungle's edge, face blank, though his mind raced.
He had just used the Magic Ascension to twist the 3rd-tier [Lightning Orb] into the devastating 5th-tier [Draconic Thunder].
Normally, such a feat would cost a staggering 150 mana. But fortunately, the passive ability from his Mad Archmage class nullified the cost entirely.
A thunderous crack ripped through the air. Lightning bolts scorched trees and earth, leaving the forest reeking of burnt wood. For a breathless moment, everything held still.
Across the glade, Quaiesse and the grey-robed mage froze, their eyes locked on Lyle in stunned disbelief.
"Fifth-tier magic… from that kid?" the grey-robed mage muttered, pale brown eyes wide.
Casting a 5th-tier spell meant stepping into the Hero-class, a threshold not lightly crossed. Yet the lingering magical pressure made denial impossible.
Lyle had previously summoned a 4th-tier Principality Angel, a pinnacle of divine faith magic. So now, a divine caster and a mana-based elemental destroyer? That wasn't just rare. That was unheard of.
Compared to the mage's panic, Quaiesse recovered swiftly. His red eyes narrowed, and with practiced ease, he ordered his massive sapphire-blue lizardman forward to shield him. His calm came from one thing. He had seen real power before, the kind that made your breath catch.
Outsiders couldn't analyze players, but they could sense the weight of magic and the shape of abilities. And what Lyle had just shown? It was completely abnormal.
Then Quaiesse spotted it. The large, bloodstained magic circle behind Lyle, etched into the ground and still steaming with residue. Of course.
"A ritual spell," Quaiesse murmured, calm returning as a knowing smile touched his lips.
The charred four-tailed panther corpse beside it wasn't worth a glance. His quiet explanation reached the grey-robed mage, whose eyes followed—and filled with dawning relief.
"A ritual, huh… so that's it." The Sorcerer exhaled, tension draining from his face.
There were historical precedents, like Fluder Paradyne, the Empire's legend, who mastered divine and arcane magic through ritual techniques such as his Triple-Cast System. If Lyle had something similar, it was rare, but not impossible.
Lyle's boot shattered a charred branch.
"You know," he said, voice cold, tone conversational, "I really don't enjoy fighting people like you. Not because you're strong, but because idiots like you always get revived." His gaze swept over them.
"Properly killing you is such a pain."
Neither replied, but their silence said everything. That crude ritual circle, deliberately made with ogre blood, was a decoy. He wanted them to think his power was external and expendable.
This wasn't YGGDRASIL anymore. Here, people could develop new spells. Even if he killed them, information could still leak, especially with someone like Quaiesse, a Black Scripture member who might wield divine relics. And if they were revived, the next encounter could turn into a disaster.
"I take back what I said earlier," Quaiesse stated calmly, shielded behind his lizardman. "You're clearly not just some nobody. You shrugged off our ambush with magical defense artifacts, didn't you? Fine. I'm authorized to speak for the Earth God's High Priest of the Slane Theocracy. You have our apologies—and an invitation."
"I refuse," Lyle replied icily. "The only fair compensation is your life for the one you took."
"Tch. Figures." The warmth vanished from Quaiesse's tone. "Comparing my life to that mutt's… you've got a real mouth on you. But I am curious about that ritual spell." His smile returned, sharper. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to leave your corpse mostly intact."
Just as he finished speaking, a new four-tailed panther exploded from the shadows behind Lyle, utterly silent.
"Silver Knight's Lance."
A shining silver lance materialized midair and speared the beast mid-leap. [Sixth Sense], the combat art, made detection magic unnecessary.
"Lightning Orb." He flung searing lightning at Quaiesse.
The sapphire lizard shrieked, whipping its tail to detonate the orb midair with a thunderous boom.
"Why not team up?" the grey-robed mage called out, suddenly grinning. "That freak loves summoning monsters. You want that magic cauldron the lizard's carrying, right? I've got it. Let's make a deal."
Lyle glanced sideways.
Two radiant Principality Angels exploded into existence beside him. He turned fully to the mage.
"No thanks. Killing all of you at once sounds more efficient."
"You idiot--!" Panic overtook the mage's smugness. "Magic Shield!"
"Flame Knight's Lance!" Lyle's response came like a whip-crack. A fiery lance shot forward.
The impact rocked the forest. The mage staggered, robes singed, shield barely holding. He gritted his teeth, preparing a counterspell---
But Lyle was already ahead. "Storm Knight's Lance."
The semi-transparent projectile howled through the air. The mage frantically recast his shield.
The wind-lance screeched against the barrier. The mage poured magic into it, straining.
"Torrent Knight's Lance."
The watery spear broke through, sending the mage flying, coughing blood. His enchanted robes absorbed the worst of it, but he was shaken, exposed.
"What even is this?!" he sputtered.
"Water's not quite punchy enough, huh?" Lyle mused coolly.
His [Elemental Shift] passive let him morph spells into wind, fire, water, or earth. Silver Knight's Lance, originally just silver, could now launch in every element. Sadly, it didn't work on holy summons like angels, but another spell would.
Anyway. Back to work.
"Earthshatter Knight's Lance!"
A stone lance erupted, flying at the battered mage.
"Damn it! Silver Knight's Lance!" the man cried, countercasting desperately.
The spells collided. After a moment's struggle, both cracked—then the Earthshatter Lance exploded, sending deadly shrapnel flying. Fragments slammed into the mage, again saved only by his robes.
"Storm Knight's Lance," Lyle said quietly.
Too fast. The lance pierced his chest. The grey-robed mage collapsed, face twisted in disbelief. He hadn't even cast half his spells.
"How the hell does he know so many versions…" he wheezed, vision dimming.
Lyle approached, calm. He poured an alchemical potion over the chest wound, staunching the bleeding just enough. Then---
A kick to the neck knocked the man out cold.
"One down." Death magic existed. Revival was possible. A live captive was far more secure.
[Orb of Death: 280 → 120/280]
He'd spent five heavy-hitting Tier 4 elemental spells just to put that guy down.
Lyle didn't believe in playing nice or slow. Eliminate, then move on. He could've gone with another Tier 5 Draconic Thunder, but he needed to monitor the element conversions.
He turned. Across the field, Quaiesse had summoned another lizardman and was calmly observing the battle's aftermath. He hadn't intervened, wisely conserving mana during a caster duel. But he hadn't expected it to end so fast.
By the third elemental Lance, Quaiesse knew the mage was doomed. Fancy tricks meant nothing against pure magical artillery.
The two angels hovered beside Lyle. Quaiesse's lizards stood guard.
"Well done," Quaiesse said, smiling pleasantly. "Truly spectacular."
"Storm Knight's Lance," Lyle said without pause.
Quaiesse raised his left hand. A ring on his thumb flashed. "An attack of this level won't touch me. Attack Diversion."
The lance veered off-course, exploding harmlessly in the jungle.
Lyle's brow twitched. He hadn't noticed it before, but Quaiesse wore many rings. All magical.
Of course it wouldn't be easy.
"How much mana do you have left?" Quaiesse asked lightly. "You seem tired. Looks is where you die."
Lyle looked him dead in the eye.