Chapter 1082: Curse
In less than a second, the Voidrend Blade sliced through Doroman's formidable defenses as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter, tearing open a gaping wound.
Doroman watched as the pitch-black, colossal wind blade hurtled toward him. His diamond-shaped vertical pupils shrank to pinpricks, his mouth gaping wide, and a torrent of incantations erupted from him like a volcanic explosion.
In an instant, a raging flood of spells spewed forth—one spell after another, colliding and shattering in rapid succession. By the time Doroman's maw extended three or four meters, every spell had collapsed, merging into a wild, annihilating tempest infused with seven or eight kinds of power.
This pure storm of destruction clashed head-on with the Voidrend Blade, slowing its momentum.
Spatial storms, elemental tempests, voidstorms—these are the most threatening forces in the endless void. As the Voidrend Blade tore through space and collided with the elemental tempest, mutual annihilation was inevitable.
By the time the Voidrend Blade closed to within a dozen meters of Doroman, its deep blue form was finally revealed. After clashing with hundreds of spells, the Voidrend Blade was ultimately annihilated.
Doroman's eyes were filled with terror—he had absolutely no idea how that Limit Spell-level Voidrend Blade had come to be.
The Voidrend Blade itself only had a sliver of spatial fissure at its tip—the greatest power lay in that fragment of space. Yet, at its core, the Voidrend Blade was just a wind blade, fragile and easily destroyed if timed right.
But a Limit Spell isn't just about boosting a spell's power by two grades—that's far too simplistic. Raising a spell by two grades is only the beginning.
The true limit is about pushing a spell's unique properties to their absolute extreme. Take the Voidrend Blade, for example—in its Limit Spell state, the ability to tear open a sliver of space is refined to perfection.
The Voidrend Blade constantly radiates a controlling, cutting force, lacing itself with spatial fissures. With these spatial fissures as protection, the blade's otherwise fragile body becomes nearly unstoppable.
You either dodge this spell or take it head-on. Technically, it's only comparable to an eighth-rank spell, but even among eighth-rank spells, the gap between strong and weak is enormous.
Leon’s Four-Element Bomb is already at the upper limit of eighth-rank magic, balancing both single-target power and area damage. The Voidrend Blade, on the other hand, is pure single-target devastation—its power rivals the Sky Rank spatial spells like the Voidrend Blade itself!
Spatial power is something mages only begin to master after reaching Sky Rank. At this stage, laying the foundation with spatial rules and then specializing in spatial magic makes a mage a real wild card among their peers…
Sky Rank spatial mages are basically cheating—they’re notorious for running fast. If you’re a mage of the same rank trying to catch one, you might as well give up and go to bed.
Then there's their offense. With spatial power, rank is irrelevant—it's all about destructive force. A basic attack from a Sky Rank spatial mage, the Voidrend Blade, can break through most shield spells…
Faced with a Limit Spell-level Voidrend Blade that rivals the power of a spatial blade, if Doroman could sweat, he'd be drenched by now…
After barely blocking the Limit Spell Voidrend Blade, Doroman immediately felt his remaining shields being obliterated—not just torn open, but crushed head-on and annihilated!
He looked up to see that the nearly forgotten Flame Tornado had already shredded every layer of defense he'd set up…
After shredding vast layers of defenses, the raging Flame Tornado had only spent part of its power—the rest crashed down upon Doroman, drowning him completely.
The madly spinning flames carried the force of a hurricane. The wind’s tearing power combined with the fire not only intensified the burning, but also made the rending even more ferocious.
In an instant, Doroman erupted in agonized screams. His massive body writhed uncontrollably, stirring the surrounding mist into chaotic waves.
Countless tiny wounds appeared on Doroman’s body, each one as if sliced by a red-hot blade—every gash was scorched black with burn marks.
Strands of rainbow light spilled from those wounds—Doroman’s blood, the blood of a Relic Spirit, and also his source power. Losing this power sent Doroman’s strength plummeting, even his intelligence began to fade.
With his strength collapsing and pain overwhelming him, Doroman kept struggling and shrieking…
Leon drifted over with a calm expression, watching Doroman writhe in the flames.
"Submit or die. You get to choose."
Doroman screamed and roared in agony.
"I submit, I submit…"
Leon gave a cold laugh and uttered a rune. The flaming tempest swirling around Doroman gradually faded, leaving him limp on the ground, as if on the brink of death.
Leon held the Death Tome. Besides the Elemental Chapter glowing with power, the Sage's Chapter was also lit up—and now, one of its pure Limit Spells was missing.
"Foolish creature. If anyone who got their hands on the Spellbook of Ages could become invincible, do you think it would be your turn? This world would have churned out countless invincible beings by now.
Spells are just tools for mages. What truly determines a strong one's fate is the strength of the person—not the spell.
Sign the contract and I’ll spare your life. You’ll continue to serve as the Relic Spirit of the Spellbook of Ages."
With that, Leon pulled out a contract—the half-finished one Lord Shaun had given him earlier. True to Lord Shaun’s nature, every clause was harsh, or simply a straightforward master-servant contract.
Only the spaces for the signatures remained blank—the rest was packed with terms. And aside from Lord Shaun, no one could alter it before signing.
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Leon stamped his personal magical seal on it, then tossed it before Doroman.
Doroman grimaced in pain. As a Relic Spirit, he was supposed to be highly resistant to spells—but here, in the world of the Spellbook of Ages, he was no different from a living being: he could be hurt, even killed…
Staring at Leon floating expressionlessly in midair, then at the harsh terms of the master-servant contract, Doroman gritted his teeth and spat out a rune onto the contract.
Instantly, the contract was sealed. It flared with light, which then split and poured into both Doroman and Leon.
With the signing complete, Leon floated down from the air and dropped his battle stance.
Doroman lay motionless on the ground, eyes half-closed, looking for all the world like a corpse. As Leon approached, a glint of frost flashed in Doroman’s eyes—then, afraid Leon would notice, he quickly lowered his eyelids.
Damn bastard, trying to bind the great Doroman with such a crude contract. Unforgivable!
Foolish human—I'm the Relic Spirit of the Spellbook of Ages, which contains all the world’s spells. Can such a contract really bind me?
This foolish human probably thinks he’s won, that I’m gravely injured and have surrendered completely.
Heh, a weak little Title Archmage, not even Sky Rank, who used tricks to ambush the great Doroman—does he really think he’s powerful?
The great Doroman is just playing along. Once this foolish human gets close, I’ll devour him—body, soul, magic, relics, everything will be mine.
Foolish and arrogant creature, come closer, just a bit closer. The great Doroman will swallow you whole. For daring to wound me, I’ll savor digesting your soul!
Leon kept walking closer, just ten meters away now. Doroman couldn’t hold back any longer. His eyes snapped open, his jaw stretched wide, and he lunged to devour Leon.
But suddenly, he saw a flash of light on the book in Leon’s left hand. One spell mark on the Sage’s Chapter vanished, and in that instant, a deep blue fireball shot out. Ten meters was nothing at all…
The fireball plunged into Doroman’s mouth at the very moment he opened it to its widest.
Instantly, Doroman shrieked in agony. He’d swallowed the fireball whole—and its terrifying force tore through his body.
The horrific heat burned him from the inside out. But before he could finish screaming, his belly exploded…
Deep blue flames burst out with savage force, instantly blasting away Doroman’s lower body. The rest was set ablaze, reduced to ash in an instant.
Only a third of Doroman’s body remained, writhing and screaming on the ground.
Leon watched with a cold smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Idiot. Let me guess—you were about to say that the Spellbook of Ages contains every spell in existence, including contract spells, so as its Relic Spirit, trying to bind you with a contract is suicide.
If you’d truly surrendered—no, even if you surrendered now—I wouldn’t bother with you. But since you chose death, you can have it."
Shock filled Doroman’s eyes as he saw two-thirds of his body destroyed. His source power kept leaking away, and his body was vanishing bit by bit. Doroman snapped.
"Foolish human, how dare you destroy me—how dare you destroy a Mythic Artifact!
Without me, the Spellbook of Ages can only unleash the power of an Essence Relic at best. Destroying a Mythic Artifact will bring you ruin.
Without me, you’ll never find another Relic Spirit as powerful. The Spellbook of Ages’ inner world is already nearly destroyed.
I curse you—I curse you to never find a Relic Spirit as strong as me, to never find one suited for the Spellbook of Ages, to never repair the Spellbook of Ages!
I curse you, foolish human…"