This time it was five ice lances from each side. They were bigger than the last, stronger. He struggled to contain his rage, and as such, more of his mana was leaking out. He had an endless stream of it, after all the preparation that he'd put in.
To slay ten thousand men, by his lonesome, within that black dome, it would have been an easy feat. This was his Domain, after all. He'd never studied magic under a tutor, but he knew that term, and he'd learned to apply it, all in service to his Lord Ingolsol, and to the obtaining of further power.
The villagers didn't manage to escape this latest barrage.
Ten of them died in the assault. The others cried out beside them, afflicted by the shrapnel. It was a mess of blood and bone. It was entirely against the laws of nature that they had grown up accustomed to.
