Chapter 814: Crushing Decay
Only the orc prophets are said to possess soul and mind-affecting magic like this. Hobart knows it too?
Fifty years ago, there was a Blazeforge Orc warlock who mastered Mindshroud—a disciple of a prophet, they say. On the battlefield, with just one cast of Mindshroud, he drove the strongest Title Archmages in the squad insane. They slaughtered at least half their own comrades for the Blazeforge Orcs.
Can Leon resist it? Sigh, Leon may be overconfident here. For Hobart to become the Fireblade Tribe’s chieftain, his strength clearly isn’t so simple.
Just as Thorne was worrying about Leon, Hobart raised his staff and chanted several sharp, uncanny notes. In an instant, within the vast Mindshroud, seven or eight blood-red monsters appeared, as if formed entirely from fresh blood.
The monsters seemed to be made of endlessly swirling blood, but on closer look, they were just phantoms. Seven or eight Bloodshade Phantoms cackled as they lunged toward the center of the Mindshroud.
Thorne’s face changed dramatically. He swallowed a life potion—his wounds were much improved, but his strength was still weak. At this moment, though, he couldn’t afford to care.
Those are Bloodshade Phantoms!
This sinister spell is said to invade the enemy’s body directly, forcing their blood to flow backward and causing them to kill themselves. It also induces hallucinations, killing people before they even realize it—a truly terrifying magic.
Especially if your mind defenses are lacking—if this spell hits you, it’s almost certain death!
Who’s the real mind warlock here?
Even for a peak-level Title Archmage warlock, the most skilled in mind magic, it’s completely impossible to cast a hundred Mindshields in just a few seconds!
Neither Mindshroud nor Bloodshade Phantoms had any effect at all. The phantoms couldn’t even make this damned human’s blood flow faster!
Leon frowned slightly. Mind magic is truly troublesome—defense must always far exceed offense. Even the slightest influence can completely change the outcome of a battle.
Warlocks skilled in curses and mind magic are generally stronger than mages of the same rank—but for Leon, it’s nothing special.
The phantom of the wheel behind him spun at full speed for an instant, combining over a hundred spells. In just one second, he could cast a hundred of these simple mind defense spells—without any effort, or even a chant.
Is that all?
Leon spoke slowly.
Hobart immediately became alert, recovering from the backlash. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth viciously and raised his staff again.
For the first time, Leon raised the Dragon Staff. A golden-red rune lit up at its tip, and simultaneously, the giant phantom wheel behind him began to turn, countless runes appearing within.
Suddenly, a terrifying surge of magic appeared. The sky seemed to turn crimson as endless fire elements converged madly. In front of Hobart, a giant hand burning with dark red flames appeared.
The giant hand slammed toward Hobart. As it descended, the flames rapidly contracted, forming a lifelike, seven or eight meter wide dark red palm, with no trace of fire left.
But Hobart’s expression changed drastically. He wasn’t foolish enough to think this meant less power—quite the opposite. All the flames had been compressed to the extreme, making the attack far deadlier than mere fire.
Hobart swung his staff, conjuring a black shield in front of him. The shield shimmered with starlight, and through it, one could glimpse endless void.
This so-called strongest dimensional shield, able to absorb and convert any attack into defense, shattered instantly when struck by the dark red hand.
The dark red hand exploded, instantly turning a twenty- to thirty-meter area into a sea of red fire. The raging flames crackled as they scorched the air.
A figure burst out from the flames—Hobart, his clothes mostly burned away, skin charred, hair gone, looking utterly miserable.
Before Hobart could counterattack, Leon casually swung the Dragon Staff, conjuring a golden-red spear.
The massive spear, originally over ten meters long and covered in dense runes, instantly shrank to just two meters.
The spear flashed with dazzling golden light, and terrifying magical energy rippled outward.
But in the next moment, the golden-red spear turned into a phantom, slowly dissipating. In midair, a golden trail hundreds of meters long appeared.
Hobart raised his staff, once a treasured weapon, now seeming like an ordinary tool as he used it to block in front of him.
A golden-red spear appeared out of nowhere before Hobart. Its runes flashed as it instantly shattered Hobart’s staff and pierced through his abdomen.
A hole the size of a human head appeared in Hobart’s abdomen, the flesh instantly charred and solidified, not a drop of blood falling.
After piercing through, the golden-red spear flew over a thousand meters before crashing into the ground.
With a thunderous boom, a mushroom cloud rose from the ground, leaving a giant crater over a hundred meters wide.
Hobart’s body was sent flying, as if struck by a giant beast, crashing down toward the mountain peak.
The Merlin Family was completely stunned. Watching this battle—so seemingly effortless—yet not a single person felt it was easy.
That’s Hobart—the Fireblade Tribe’s chieftain, who once faced three peak Title Archmages and killed one, severely injuring two.
How could he be defeated so easily?
Master Leon, you’re insane! Using a hundred Mindshields to crush your opponent—isn’t that a bit shameless?
And that Fire God’s Hand—is that really Fire God’s Hand? I’ve studied it for years and never seen anything like that.
Was that the legendary Limit Spell? Damn, Fire God’s Hand is supposed to be a Tier Four spell!
To cast the Limit Spell version of Fire God’s Hand so casually—is that something even a Title Archmage could do?
Maybe only someone like Speaker Heron of the Black Tower could pull that off.