The conflict erupted with startling abruptness.
Moreover, it was Elandril, the pair of them, who took the aggressive lead.
Lina had earned her nickname "Madwoman" among the other apprentices for good reason; she dared to initiate a brawl right in the middle of the dark, ruthless backstreets! The massive fireball she cast, radiating a deep blue glow, was not merely distinguishable from Elandril's Lesser Fireball Spell in terms of size. Its power was of another magnitude altogether!
Targeted directly at Scarface Joke's smirking visage, the fireball advanced with deadly intent. Lina's swift assault, coupled with Joke's total lack of anticipation, left the crowd almost certain that the next instant would showcase a grisly display of an exploding head, splattering brain and blood.
Magicians, as was commonly known, were physically frail. Without their magical shields, the resilience of a mage-apprentice to blunt force was scarcely stronger than that of an average man in his prime. But the real shock lay in the fact that no one had expected Lina to make a move!
A pale light abruptly sparked to life amidst Scarface Joke's entourage. Just as Elandril was armed with magical gear, so too, naturally, were those in Joke's company. This light emanated from an emergency defensive artifact, a short, silvery wand that, in appearance, closely resembled Elandril's Acidic Wand.
The bearer of this wand was a male Intermediate Apprentice, his face ashen. By all indications, he had no initial desire to intervene in this clash of Senior Apprentices, let alone to expend his treasured magical artifact without dire need. But circumstances had thrust him into the fray, the stake of lives rendering his hesitation obsolete. As the wand activated, casting its protective glow, it silently testified to the unforeseen intensity of the battle that unfolded on these shadow-laden streets.The pale luminescence of Mana crystallized into a magical shield, shimmering with an almost fragile elegance. However, its beauty was short-lived; it couldn't withstand even two brief seconds against Lina's formidable fireball spell. Under the sheer force of the assault, the shield shattered spectacularly, fragmenting into countless pieces that danced in the air before fading into nothingness.
Yet, those fleeting moments bought precious reaction time for everyone enveloped within the imminent danger of the fireball's trajectory. But as the pale shield disintegrated, so did Lina's massive spell. The deep azure fireball, tinged with an ominous promise, didn't merely vanish. Instead, it underwent a startling transformation, breaking down on the spot into nearly twenty smaller, blazing yellow orbs of fury.
This turn of events was beyond unexpected!
Every spell is unique, mirroring the distinctive essence of its caster. Even similar spells could differ substantially, reflecting the particular nuances and skills of the practitioner. Lina's deep blue fireball was no ordinary feat of magic but was a testament to her ingenuity and prowess, modified and enhanced through her profound understanding of arcane principles. The spectacle of the fireball erupting into a swarm of secondary incendiary spheres was not something gleaned from the traditional tomes within the magical academies' libraries.
It was a blatant display of a Senior Apprentice's formidable strength, and Lina was no ordinary apprentice. Her talents and exceptional qualities had always set her apart. Despite her recent advancement, she was already demonstrating a level of mastery that belied her experience.
The resulting cascade of lesser fireballs rained devastation, particularly upon the unfortunate group that included the scar-faced Joke. The ones who suffered the most were the Novice Apprentices. Their limited abilities rendered them tragically vulnerable under the sweeping annihilation wielded by a Senior Apprentice's spellcraft. It was nothing short of a disaster for the inexperienced.
In addition, two slower-reacting, lower-ranked apprentices were caught in the peripheral havoc of the Lesser Fireball Spell, sustaining significant burn injuries. Their agonized cries punctuated the smoky aftermath, underlining the unexpected, destructive turn the duel had taken. The scene was a stark reminder of the chasm separating the novices from the seasoned, and the ordinary from the truly gifted.In the fleeting moment of lightning's clash, it took but a single strike to decimate nearly half of Scarface Joke's entourage, the aftermath hanging in the charged air.
It was then that the long-anticipated counterattack from Joke and his accomplices thundered into being. The first to retaliate was a female apprentice, her hair a soft shade of pink cut short, her presence bold and fiery. At the level of an Intermediate Apprentice, she was infuriated by Lina's unheralded assault.
Within the hallowed halls of the Black Magic Academy, the scales had long been tipped in favor of male apprentices, a reflection of the ruthless competitive regimen that thrived there. Yet, in this crucible of power, the women who ascended to the rank of mid-tier apprentices were anything but frail. At times, their resolve and ferocity even eclipsed that of their male counterparts. For only the shrewdest could survive the Academy's devouring grasp, where weakness perished in the shadows of greatness.
With a piercing scream, a wave of sonic energy erupted from the apprentice's lips. It was Elandril's inaugural confrontation with sonic magic, and the spell's velocity defied his understanding of the arcane arts. Indeed, the Black Magic Academy was a lair of hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
The swift sonic spell, known amongst the adepts as "Banshee's Wail," enveloped Elandril and Lina in an invisible siege. Facing this intermediate incantation, Elandril, merely a low-tier apprentice, staggered, his body nearly betraying him.
Fortuitously, the faint Psychic Force emanating from his Acidic Wand provided a semblance of resilience, shielding him from the brunt of the magical onslaught. And yet, the primary quarry of the Banshee's Wail was not Elandril, but Lina, standing steadfast by his side. In this maelstrom of arcane conflict, allies and adversaries alike learned the price of power and the valor of the defiant.Though she didn't possess an Acidic Wand like Elandril to temper the Psychic Force, Lina, in her status as a senior apprentice, relied on her substantial Psychic Force value to tough it out.
Banshee's Wail, a spell of intermediate level, demanded a considerable toll, and for an apprentice of her middling rank, it was nearly impossible to unleash another in a succession so brief.
Thus, the initiative had swung back to Lina once more.
At some point, a string of obsidian bracelets had appeared in her hands. Elandril, her live-in boyfriend, recognized them instantly. They were a rare magical artifact in Lina's possession, seldom used in his sight.
The urgent cadence of spellcasting erupted from Lina again, her incantations weaving through the air. The dark bracelets began to gleam with a sinister black light, a prelude to the impending magical assault.
It was at this moment that Scarface Joke and his cohorts launched their relentless attack.
This was the consequence of being outnumbered; even someone as formidable as Lina, superior to anyone else present, faced overwhelming odds. She was but one, while low-ranking apprentices, including Scarface Joke and others, numbered eleven. Not to mention, the group comprised four Intermediate Apprentices, including Joke himself.
Hot on the heels of Lina and the sound-based female apprentice, Joke made his move. Eschewing traditional spellcasting, he drew a shortsword from within his robe and charged directly toward Elandril and Lina.
This was Joke's unique combat style. A pale red pattern of flames began to spread from the base of the blade he wielded, a telltale sign of the ferocity that awaited them.It wasn't the arcane nature of the shortsword in Joke's grip that distinguished it, but rather the way he had infused his own pyrokinetic force into the blade of fine steel. In the realm of magic, there was a specific term for this: Fire Elemental Enchantment.
Joke's movements were rapid, a testament to the years of hardening in the subterranean crucibles of the Dark Realms. Every scar that adorned him was a testament to his prowess. Elandril was competent in close combat and his reflexes were sharp, but when compared to Joke, he fell slightly short. Their paths of expertise diverged; Elandril was a devotee to the mystic arts, whereas Joke had honed his physical agility and strength.
But even with Joke's swift actions, he wasn't faster than Elandril! Now, his enchanted sword was aimed at Lina, and a lethal intent blossomed in him, especially since she had been the first to attack. He harbored the idea of wounding her severely, even contemplating her demise. In a one-on-one confrontation, Joke would undoubtedly fall to Lina. But it was easy to forget that he was not alone—he had over a dozen comrades with him.
Particularly given Lina's indiscriminate barrage of fireballs just moments before, she had, in her madness, turned everyone against her. Lina's ascension to Senior Apprentice was evidently recent, presenting Joke with a rare opportunity to strike her down, perhaps his only chance for some time to come.
"The honor of becoming Master Andis's apprentice shall be mine alone!" he internally declared. "The academy's reward this year is destined for me!" His thoughts thundered in silent ferocity as he bared his soul's outcry, "You ignorant Madwoman, your end is nigh!"
Joke's inner tumult roared, revealing the crux of the animosity that lay between him and Lina. It was more than a battle of skills or a moment of peril; it was a clash of destinies, ambitions fervently burning within the heart of an ardent warrior, set amidst the ethereal and treacherous weave of magic and might.Though Joke's ambush was yet to reach its fruition, the sudden appearance of three streams of corrosive acid in front of him blanched his complexion, a chill of dread permeating through every fiber of his being.
The imminent threat loomed, casting a sinister shadow that toyed with his resolve, the danger tangible in the air, thick enough to slice. In this realm where survival balanced precariously on the edge of a knife, such unforeseen perils were the harbingers of despair, skewing reality into a nightmare that tested not just the body, but the fortitude of the mind itself.