Filled with new strength, the Ashborn made his move. With a single step, the ground beneath him cracked. He then appeared on top of the Magus.
His axe fell like a meteor, trailing fire through the air. The axe-wielding Ashborn was sure—this time, the Magus couldn't evade like before. His ignited axe carried a special effect: it disrupted mana in its surroundings. Against a weak mage, this meant he could cleave their magic in two, rendering them helpless. But his opponent was a Magus—he knew better than to stop with just one attack. His other palm opened, flames surging as a sphere of fire took shape.
Every Ashborn in ignited form could use this skill, but each had a unique twist depending on their weapon. For the axe-wielding Ashborn, it was just like his axe—Mana Disruption. "Eat this, you freakin' monster!!!"
BOOM!!!! BOOM! BOOM!!
The axe-wielding Ashborn unleashed a barrage of fireballs. At the same time, he felt his axe slamming into something solid. Was it the Magus' armor? Some kind of magical shield? He couldn't tell. The instant his axe struck, an explosion erupted, throwing up thick smoke, blocking his view. "Che! Just die already, damn it!" he growled, gripping his axe tighter.
The Ashborn didn't wait for the smoke to clear. He leaped backward than start twisting his body mid-air, his axe flaring with violent embers. His blood was boiling, his power surging—this time, he would break through whatever defenses the Magus had.
With a savage spin, he swung his axe sideways, sending out a flaming crescent slash. The sheer force tore through the air, setting the air ablaze in its wake. But he wasn't done—not even close.
He thrust his free hand forward, fingers clenching as flames gathered once more. This time, the fire twisted, crackling as it formed into something deadlier. "Burn!! Inferno Burst!" he roared, hurling it straight into the smoke.
The explosion ripped through the battlefield, heat blasting outward in a fiery shockwave. The ground beneath him melted, stone turning to lava from the sheer intensity.
Still, he wasn't about to stop. He stomped forward, his axe dragging against the ground, leaving behind a searing molten trail. He lifted his axe, flames spiraling up its length like a firestorm. ",Magus!" He Roared Then—he swung again.
This time, his attack wasn't just fire. The very air rippled, his axe's impact shaking the battlefield as a massive, burning shockwave erupted forward. The other ashborn look at this scene with doubtful stern gaze, whatever result come out form it will decided their next move.
Meanwhile, some distance away, another group lay hidden, watching everything unfold. They were inside a tunnel on the upper right corner of the ceiling, shrouded in darkness. "What you think, Draeven?" Vek'tal muttered, his usual sense of humor nowhere to be seen.
Their plan was simple—ambush both the Magus and the Ashborn warrior when they were at their weakest, then reap all the benefits. But so far, it was clear—the Magus was overwhelming the ashborns. "Don't bother him, Vek'tal," Tzarek cut in, arms crossed. "Draeven's thinking up a plan. But to answer your question—the Ashborn? They're finished."
"But the Magus doesn't know their weakness, right?"
Tzarek scoffed. "You think he doesn't?" His eyes narrowed. "Who do you think fought against us on the frontlines in the past? Back in the war, they slaughtered so many Ashborn, I'd be surprised if they didn't know everything about them. And even if he didn't, it wouldn't matter. If that Magus really wanted to, he could wipe them all out without leaving so much as a pile of ash."
Their gazes snapped back to the battlefield. The shockwave dissipated, revealing an unbelievable sight. The whole area around the Magus had turned into a massive crater, molten lava bubbling at its edges. But the spot where he stood—completely untouched. His robes fluttered in the wind, his face still hidden in the shadows. Not a single scratch. But the most shocking thing of all—a hand made of pure mana floated above him, fingers effortlessly gripping the Ashborn's axe.
No damage. No resistance. Just complete control.
'How in the hell—?!' The axe-wielding Ashborn stared in disbelief. He had absolute confidence in his ability to disrupt mana. It was what made his weapon so deadly. But now—he knew. The Magus's control over mana was beyond imagination.
"Interesting," the Magus finally spoke, his voice smooth, unhurried. "Do you have more to show? If not… I suppose it's my turn."
The axe-wielding Ashborn instantly reacted, trying to pull back—but his axe didn't move. It was stuck. Like it had been nailed in place.
'This is absurd! I've heard Magus are strong, but not to this extent!' A female Ashborn watched, her fists clenching. Their intel was completely wrong. The Magus were known to be strong, but not . 'Our information is outdated. Completely.' She glanced toward the silent one in their group. He met her gaze. He understood. Someone need to leave right now—and report this to the Ash King.
Through all these years, their enemy had evolved, grown stronger. And while they stayed here, barely surviving, their enemy had reached a whole new level.
The Magus than mumbled under his breath, "Lightning Qilin."
Before the axe-wielding Ashborn could react, BOOM!!!
A crackling bolt of lightning exploded beneath his feet. The raw force tore through him, launching him into the air like a ragdoll. His body twisted mid-air, flames trailing from his ignited form. But before he could stabilize—
A thunderous roar shook the battlefield as lightning converged—coiling, surging, coming to life. The energy twisted and fused, forging into the form of a massive qilin—its body a serpentine beast of pure storm, limbs made of arc lightning, its eyes glowing like miniature suns. Electricity crackled across its scaled form, each step leaving blackened craters on the molten battlefield.
The Ashborn gritted his teeth, gripping his axe tight. "Like hell I'm gonna die to a damn spell!" His body regenerated instantly, flames roaring back to life as he swung his axe, sending a wave of mana-disrupting fire toward the beast.