"Hurry! Engage—!"
At long last, Marx arrived, accompanied by twenty elite guards.
The moment he saw the three mages from the Eye of the Midnight Sun—Walter, Catherine, and Sally—he immediately barked orders for the guards to attack.
But the results were underwhelming.
None of the three were ordinary enemies. Whether it was Walter's spatial magic, Catherine's cursed spells, or Sally's gel constructs, all of them far surpassed the norm.
Even though Marx's men were the best of the royal guard, their strength only hovered around the eighth tier of magic prowess. Strong, but not nearly enough.
Still, they managed to push the three foes back slightly—barely.
"Ethan Hayes! Are you alright?" Marx called out anxiously.
"I'm fine. Not dead yet. But if you're worried about someone, worry about them—they're having a much worse day than I am," Ethan replied with a smirk.
Only then did Marx take in the full scene.
Corpses littered the battlefield, severed limbs and entrails scattered across the blood-soaked ground. The stench of iron and death was overwhelming, enough to make even a seasoned knight gag.
But that wasn't what shook him.
What shook him was that all these people—dozens upon dozens—were slain by one man.
He remembered how many enemy mages had broken off from the battle in the inner city—at least fifty. And factoring in the scouts and hidden operatives scattered around the capital, that number easily doubled.
And Ethan had taken them all on alone… and won?
This guy's a monster...
"What now, Walter? Retreat?" Catherine asked, her brows furrowing as she noticed the reinforcements arriving.
This meant the siege on the inner city had likely failed. Otherwise, the kingdom wouldn't have been able to spare troops.
Walter fell silent.
Logically, yes—they should retreat now. If they waited too long and more knight squads showed up, even they might not be able to escape.
But a hundred comrades had died here—slain by Ethan. Walter couldn't just let that go.
Not to mention, someone like Ethan could be a serious threat to their long-term plans if left alive.
He's weakened. We strike now—he dies today!
"Spatial Magic: Dimensional Baptism!"
Walter didn't reply with words. His actions said it all.
Seeing this, Catherine and Sally had no choice but to follow. They knew just as well: Ethan couldn't be allowed to live.
"Gray Curse Magic: Beauty Reaver!"
"Gel Magic: Swamp of Slime!"
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Before the guards could react, spatial rings appeared above their heads. From them, spheres of compressed spatial energy rained down.
On the ground, a thick, jelly-like green substance spread rapidly. Several guards who couldn't escape in time were immediately stuck, unable to move.
Catherine's cursed spell was even more terrifying.
Anyone hit by her gray mist would instantly age in seconds—young men in their prime turning into withered elders.
Within moments, the twenty guards were reduced to just seven.
A devastating difference in power—one that no strategy could overcome.
"Damn it! Memory Magic: Cognitive Seal!"
Marx, his grimoire spinning beside him, launched three beams of shimmering light at the enemy trio.
His magic was rare and non-lethal—classified as high-level support magic. If his spell connected, it could erase recent memories. In the right conditions, he could wipe a person's entire memory, reducing them to a helpless shell.
But despite how impressive it sounded, it lacked the speed or aggression needed in combat.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
All three beams were easily dodged.
Compared to regular spells, the memory beams were slow—far too slow. Even at close range, they were hard to land. From afar, they were virtually useless.
"I'll take care of this myself," Ethan muttered with a sigh.
Was this really the backup he'd been waiting for? They were doing more harm than good.
Still, they had bought him a moment—a chance to breathe and regroup.
"Wind Creation Magic: Boots of the Gale!"
Green magic gathered around Ethan's legs, forming a pair of translucent, high-collared boots—like rain boots made of pure wind.
He set his eyes on the three enemies before him.
If he fought them spell for spell, he'd lose. No question. The three were still at their peak, and he was running on fumes.
Even with his immense mana reserves, there were limits. He had to use his remaining power wisely—precisely.
And nothing was more effective for a battle mage… than getting up close and personal.
Whoosh!
With a gust of wind, Ethan disappeared.
A trail of dust was the only thing left where he'd stood.
Walter, Catherine, and Sally instantly tensed.
They scanned their surroundings, searching for signs of his movement.
He wasn't as fast as when he'd massacred the army—but he was still incredibly quick. Shadows blurred and flickered around them. He was flanking, circling, closing in.
"Spatial Magic: Rift Blades!"
"Gray Curse Magic: Miasma of Dread!"
"Gel Magic: Slime Missile!"
They unleashed their spells in rapid succession, trying to stop him in his tracks.
But Ethan didn't flinch. He charged forward like a man possessed, ignoring the barrage completely.
From a distance, Marx watched with a sinking feeling.
Don't tell me Ethan's cracked… Did he take one too many hits to the head?
"Clover Magic: Phantom Windstep!"
Three bursts of wind tore through the air.
Ethan's figure blurred—vanishing and reappearing like he was teleporting.
In truth, this move was even faster than the techniques he used during spirit assimilation. But it came at a cost.
A massive cost.
At full strength, he could use it thirty times without issue. But now?
He had enough mana for three uses. And one last shot.
"Wind Creation Magic: Spiral Sphere!"
"Fire Creation Magic: Explosive Spiral Sphere!"
At the end of his final step, Ethan was right there—face to face with the trio.
In each of his hands, a sphere spun violently—one emerald green, the other crimson red. Spiraling masses of magic, pulsing with deadly power.
All three of them felt it.
Death was coming.
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