Chapter 889: The Guardians
In the future, the renowned Burning Legion will be able to form a United Chanting Formation with a thousand ninth-rank Title Archmages, spending just ten seconds to cast a tenth-rank spell—Burning Earth!
Back then, the Burning Legion managed to turn an entire minor plane into a hell of flames and utterly destroyed it—even without a single Heaven Rank mage intervening.
But now, Lin Yun's Mage Legion can only manage to form a United Chanting Formation with ten people—any more and it becomes impossible...
Each of the ten mages chants a completely different incantation, with even their pauses strictly coordinated. Every character chanted must avoid overlapping in time. To an outsider, it looks like ten people are chanting rapidly, but together, it forms a single spell!
Even casting a high-level spell requires extensive preparation—like increasing the concentration and activity of fire elements in the area to lower the difficulty of spellcasting...
Four seconds...
The remaining forty mages were pushed to their limits suppressing enemy spells, their mana consumption becoming severe. At that moment, the ten-person joint spellcasting was complete.
Simultaneously, crimson light shot out from the ten Dragon Scale Staffs, a mass of runes assembling in midair and flying toward the Dissector's head.
In an instant, three golden pillars—solid and covered densely with runes—descended from the sky, encircling the Dissector at the center.
The moment the Dissector saw those three pillars, each over three meters tall, his face went pale. Without hesitation, he erupted with scarlet battle energy and charged desperately in one direction.
But the three pillars began to spin rapidly, transforming into a golden cage that trapped the Dissector at its center. Endless scarlet battle energy turned into blades, clashing against the pillars with only a chorus of sharp metallic rings.
When the cage's radius shrank to three meters, the ground within suddenly glowed red-hot. Crimson cracks split the earth, thunder rumbling beneath as if a planar gateway had opened.
Seeing this, the Dissector let out a furious, despairing roar—he could no longer escape.
A terrifying aura burst out from beneath the Dissector, a jet of deep crimson flame erupting like a fountain from the ground. The fire, thick with the scent of purgatory, radiated unstoppable destruction.
In an instant, the dark red flames engulfed the Dissector. His short dagger melted into liquid iron in the blink of an eye, his scarlet armor corroded at a terrifying speed—gone in a puff of smoke in just one second.
The next moment, endless flames swallowed the Dissector whole. A second later, the fire vanished into the earth—and the Dissector was gone.
The ground, which had seemed like a gateway to another plane, returned to normal.
From a distance, Anderson stared blankly at the scene. Others might not understand what just happened, but Anderson saw it clearly—there were serious problems with that spell.
"Merlin, what the hell was that? Was that an eighth-rank single-target fire spell—Kiss of Purgatory?"
Leon nodded.
"Yeah, it was Kiss of Purgatory. But their casting speed was still too slow, too forced. You have to raise the fire element concentration and activity in that area to an extremely high level to succeed, and once the spell starts, you can't switch targets. That's still a big limitation..."
Leon looked dissatisfied, making all six of Anderson's eyes roll in unison.
Damn, there was a major problem with that casting. The ten strongest, only second-rank Title Archmages, actually managed to cast an eighth-rank spell—Kiss of Purgatory—together.
And the chanting time was only three seconds. Is there any group-cast spell with a chanting time under ten seconds?
Not only did they chant for three seconds, but they actually succeeded. Even the strongest ninth-rank Title Archmage might not be able to pull that off, right?
Kiss of Purgatory—reputed to be the strongest single-target burning spell at eighth rank. Without the power of a ninth-rank Title Archmage, could you even cast it?
Even if you could, you'd burn through most of your mana. You couldn't possibly use it in real combat, could you?
Leon said nothing, and Anderson stopped asking, just staring intently at Kurumu, lost in thought.
All fifty legion mages now sat on the ground meditating. The intense mana drain had given some of those still stuck at peak ninth-rank Archmage a chance to break through.
Mana surged, magical runes appeared one after another, and flames spun into a storm.
The remaining legion mages, still at ninth-rank Archmage, seemed to ignite like firecrackers—one after another, they broke through to Title Archmage...
On the other side, the battle ended quickly. Wagner grinned, paying no attention to the details—he just saw endless flames boiling, then the Dissector burned to death. Simple as that.
Damn, turns out the Dissector really was old—his injuries must've been worse than I thought, getting burned to death by a bunch of fire spells. Serves him right.
Whatever, better that he's dead. As long as I can find that Black Iron Orc relic quickly...
Wagner's mind was consumed with how to destroy the relic—he ignored everything else, not even realizing what the battle meant, or noticing the brief surge of Infernal Fire within the endless flames.
The party pressed forward. Wagner, ever scheming, sent scouts ahead. Once he confirmed another obstacle up ahead, he immediately pushed Leon's group to the front.
"Young master, I've already sent people to check—there's another Black Iron Orc expert guarding ahead. Let's have those Andalusian bumpkins take the lead. Anyone guarding the sacred ground here is a true Black Iron Orc powerhouse. If we fight ourselves, we'll suffer heavy losses, and we can't have you personally risking your life..."
Lord Daug quickly relayed the information to Wagner, who wisely accepted the suggestion.
Why worry about anything else? As long as the Andalusians clear the way, I get the spoils. No need to take any risks myself...
After a short march, the described Black Iron Orc sacred ground came into view. Atop a large boulder sat a towering, muscular Black Iron Orc, his body covered in dense tattoos. Beside him stood a massive warhammer, nearly two meters tall.
Just sitting there, he gave the impression of a mountain blocking the way—the heavy pressure radiated silently across hundreds of meters.
A thirty-eighth rank Sword Saint, his presence was overwhelming—not the usual orcish fury, but the ancient steadiness of a rock giant. Just his aura spoke of immense, stable power.
Leon had actually heard of this one—the Rock, legendary defender of the Black Iron Orc tribe. He once held a fortress alone, smashing everything with his warhammer. His strength was terrifying.
"Hubert, go—deal with him."
Leon glanced at Hubert and gave a casual order. After the last battle, all the Mage Legion members had advanced to Title Archmage. Now they needed to settle, regroup, and refine their coordination.
Against an opponent with overwhelming strength and a heavy warhammer, Hubert was the best choice. His rapid growth wasn't just in rank and power, but in essence—he'd surpassed what a Dragonblood Orc should be. Only through constant fighting could Hubert keep rising.
Hubert gazed at the distant Black Iron Orc, nerves getting the better of him—his face full of hesitation.
"Archmage Merlin, am I going alone? He's an eighth-rank Sword Saint, and he can use scarlet battle energy. I can't use battle energy—I'll lose, I'll get killed..."
Suddenly, a ball of flame appeared beside Leon, with two hollow eyes staring at Hubert. He shivered, wailed, and charged out.
"Alright, Archmage Merlin! Your greatest servant, Hubert, will obey!"
Hubert bared his teeth and charged forward, wielding Slaughter.
"Damn bastard, who told you to block the way? Archmage Merlin coming here is an honor for you—yes, that's what he said, an honor for your ancestors! Hurry up and hand over your sacred relic for Archmage Merlin to smash, and the great Hubert will spare your life..."
Howling, Hubert charged at the Black Iron Orc. Midway, he suddenly leapt, swinging Slaughter down from above, veins bulging as he smashed toward his foe.
The Rock, expressionless, casually swung his massive warhammer upward with one hand.
Slaughter and the heavy warhammer collided with a thunderous crack, the air between them blasted apart. Blinding arcs of lightning radiated from the two hammers, a white sonic boom cloud sweeping dozens of meters like a circular blade.
Where the shockwave passed, every rock was shredded, the ground sliced open as if by a giant blade for dozens of meters.
At the moment of impact, The Rock's expression changed slightly. He gripped his warhammer with both hands, the boulder beneath him crackling loudly.
In an instant, the seven- or eight-meter-high boulder was covered in web-like cracks, then exploded into fragments with a bang.
The Rock let out a low roar, standing firm and swinging his giant hammer. Instantly, Hubert—warhammer and all—was blasted back as a blur.
Bang bang bang...
A series of sonic booms rang out. Hubert's body shot like an arrow into a giant boulder a dozen meters away, shattering it to pieces.