Chapter 843: Lightning Spear
Hubert, already seething with rage, was the first to charge forward. The ambush just now had robbed Lord Hubert of his first chance to slay a level thirty-nine magical beast—a loss he found utterly unforgivable.
Hubert swung Slaughter, sweeping it toward the foremost Caucasus Battlemage. As the spear and warhammer collided, sparks scattered everywhere. The seasoned Caucasus Battlemage barely had time to show off his hard-earned skills before he felt a surge like a rampaging dragon crashing down.
The tremendous force slammed into the Caucasus Battlemage, sending him flying dozens of meters. If not for his impressive combat skills, which let him shed most of the impact, he would have been smashed to pieces right then and there…
With Hubert launching his assault, Reina, Anderson, and the Alchemical Golem joined the fray as well.
Frost spells, elemental magic of all four schools, and a torrent of spells merged together, forming a chaotic wave that crushed the Caucasus Battlemages in a single clash…
These Caucasus Battlemages were stronger than mages of the same rank—one-on-one, they’d slaughter most mages. But the strongest among them was only a fourth-rank Title Archmage, and the weakest barely a first-rank.
Hubert, on the other hand, was already a fifth-rank Sword Saint. And as a naturally ferocious Dragonblood Orc, fused with a drop of Three-Headed Gold Dragon blood and baptized in divine and demonic essence, his body had long surpassed the limits of rank and race. His strength was so immense that even wielding a weapon weighing thousands of pounds felt trivial.
Pure, brute strength could crush anyone beneath his rank. No amount of skill could make up for a hundredfold difference in power; even the most refined technique was helpless against overwhelming force.
Reina, meanwhile, was a Frost Dragon—her father a Sky Rank Frost Dragon. As a thirty-ninth level Frost Dragon herself, she could outclass most eighth-rank Title Archmages without even taking dragon form.
The Alchemical Golem, after Leon swapped in a component forged from rare materials, saw its power surge once more. Now, it rivaled a thirty-ninth rank magical beast—perhaps even stronger. It was practically a mobile mana crystal cannon. And let's not forget, this Alchemical Golem was Sky Rank to begin with!
After Leon replaced its mana source, its power system grew even stronger. The only thing holding it back now was the limitation of its other components.
As for Anderson, the Wheel of Ten Thousand Spells had nearly reached the level of a high-tier True Spirit Artifact. With Leon's advancement to Archmage, its spellcasting abilities had risen accordingly—now even surpassing the Alchemical Golem!
With things as they were, several of us striking together against more than twenty Caucasus Battlemages—it honestly required zero finesse.
It was pure magical brute force—a single exchange, and over twenty heavily armored Caucasus Battlemages were sent flying by the barrage of spells.
If not for their terrifying resistance to magic—their bodies etched with anti-magic runes, their physical strength rivaling orcs, and their armor weighing at least a hundred pounds—these Caucasus Battlemages would have been nothing but corpses by now.
In less than ten seconds, the last Battlemage still trying to stand was smashed into the dirt by Slaughter’s hammer, and just like that, the fight was over...
Kempes stared in horror. He never imagined Merlin’s crew could be this strong—more than twenty Caucasus Battlemages, gone just like that!
They didn’t even manage a token resistance before losing all combat ability...
Damn it, how is this even possible?!
These twenty-some Caucasus Battlemages were the elite of the elite—all of them Archmage-class!
You have to understand, these twenty-plus Caucasus Battlemages could slice through a five-hundred-strong mage legion like a blade, and even guarantee half that legion wiped out without losing a single one of their own!
For reference, a standard mage legion in the Blazeforge Realm numbers five hundred: five Archmages below fifth rank, fifty regular mages, and the rest are all Grand Mages.
That kind of lineup, in terms of raw fighting power, easily outmatches a sixth or seventh rank Archmage. In large-scale war, when mages reach a certain number, even the low-level ones can unleash terrifying force.
But all that firepower in Blazeforge Realm barely compares to a single twenty-man squad of Caucasus Battlemages.
The squad before us was the best of the best. Just a month ago, they’d gone head-to-head with a seven-hundred-mage legion from a southern faction.
The result? Not a single Caucasus Battlemage fell—some were wounded, sure—but over three hundred mages from that legion were killed, and the rest fled before the battle was even finished...
That’s why Kempes brought these men along. Arrogant, yes, but not stupid—he was the most gifted of the Caucasus Battlemages, the obvious next King of the Caucasus. With that kind of talent, even an eighth-rank Archmage was little more than a sitting duck; three minutes tops to finish a fight.
He’d only brought this elite squad because a major deal was at stake—never expected things to spiral out of control like this...
Damn it, so what if they’re strong? The real fight hasn’t even started. I was hoping to save some effort, but now I have no choice—kill Merlin first, then wipe out the rest...
As long as they're not Sky Rank, these pathetic mages—none of them stand a chance against me...
With that thought, Kempes let out a furious roar. His muscles bulged, mana surged across his skin, and faint sparks of electricity flickered along the shaft of his lightning-shaped spear.
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Kempes hunched forward, taking a charging stance. The ground beneath him rumbled, spiderweb cracks spreading out for several meters, the earth sinking half a meter deep. A terrifying pressure radiated from him in all directions.
Instantly, the ground within a dozen meters exploded, and Kempes vanished from where he stood.
The next moment, Kempes appeared before Leon, spear in hand, driving the lightning spear straight toward him with brutal force.
Leon frowned slightly, conjuring a fiery elemental mirage, and his own body transformed into a blaze, vanishing the instant Kempes appeared.
As Leon slipped away with a secret Flame Blink, the tip of Kempes’s lightning spear gathered blinding thunder. In midair, a dozen afterimages of the spear appeared, and in the blink of an eye, the spear stabbed the mirage more than a dozen times.
A thunderous boom echoed...
The lingering fire mirage exploded violently, flames scattering everywhere, and Kempes became a blur once again, chasing after Leon.
Leon swung his Dragonstaff, instantly casting dozens of low-level spells—a torrent of fire and frost crashed down on Kempes like a rainstorm.
But Kempes seemed not to notice, gripping his lightning spear as its tip crackled with thunder, charging through the barrage of spells without flinching.
Spells exploded against Kempes’s body, causing glowing runes to shimmer across his pitch-black armor, magical patterns lighting up on his skin as well. Kempes barely seemed affected—only a few charred marks on his armor showed any sign of damage.
The lightning spear tore through the wall of fire and frost like a bolt of thunder, continuing its charge toward Leon.
Leon waved his hand, conjuring a shield of molten rock, then once again transformed into flame, blinking through the inferno to reappear more than twenty meters away.
Seeing Kempes’s spear rip through the lava shield with ease, a flash of understanding crossed Leon’s eyes.
Caucasus Battlemages rely primarily on physical combat, magic as a supplement. The lightning at the tip of that spear was pure elemental power, and the enchantments on the spear were all about sharpness and spell-breaking.
With the right spells, a Caucasus Battlemage could tear through a mage’s shield with ease. Combine that with their formidable resistance to magic, and you see why they’re considered mage-killers.
Kempes, standing before me, was truly gifted—wearing armor that weighed at least two hundred pounds, wielding a lightning spear of fifty or sixty, yet still moving with such speed. He was a rare talent among Caucasus Battlemages.
With a Battlemage’s fighting style, that speed translated to deadly force. Against mages of the same rank, they were little more than sitting ducks—no exaggeration.
That kind of speed outstripped most mages’ ability to dodge; if you couldn’t evade, your shields wouldn’t stand a chance against his lightning spear.
That spear was unique to the Caucasus Battlemages, made from an extremely rare material found only on the lightning-blasted peaks of the Caucasus Highlands. The ore naturally carried the power of thunder, and once infused with magic, it gained a fierce rending effect—perfect for tearing through mage shields.
Mining that ore was no easy feat—the best quality could only be found at the mountaintops, where the risk of lightning strikes was ever-present. Every year, the Caucasus paid a heavy price for it.
After a quick test, Leon could tell—Kempes’s spear had plenty of thunder ore mixed in. If it could rip through a frost shield so easily, ordinary defenses were basically useless.
For a proper mage, losing your shield was no different than being dead...
Missing Leon twice in a row, Kempes grew agitated, chanting spells rapidly as streaks of light began to shimmer across his body.