Dean commanded in a loud, booming voice, "Attack!" All the men launched their assaults on the hall. Amid various magical attacks, the building began to crumble bit by bit as each strike hit its target.
"Halt!" Dean commanded, then after a moment, he shouted again, "Attack!" This time, almost all the attacks landed simultaneously. The walls on all sides gave way, and the building collapsed with a tremendous boom. The entire area was engulfed in smoke, drastically reducing visibility and making it difficult to see far enough to launch another attack.
The collapse of the great hall formed a massive hill of broken wood and hanging metal. Unknown to the men outside, Carl remained alive. He had erected a three-layered barrier around himself. Though the shield had been near shattering, it had managed to withstand the onslaught.
With a single explosive gesture, all the debris that had piled on him fell away along with the barrier. The air was thick with smoke; many people could be heard coughing due to the dust and debris swirling around them. Meanwhile, metal fragments began to rise one after another into the air.
Once all of them were suspended above the ground, Carl focused intently on reshaping some of the metal into smaller forms like bullets by bending them. After much concentration, he successfully formed hundreds of bullets. He took a deep gasp of air.
"I don't know how long I can last," he thought. "My mana is below fifty percent now, and I still have a difficult battle ahead. I need to take down as many as I can in one attack. Bending metals into new shapes takes a lot of mana and energy. I must finish this before the smoke clears."
Carl murmured to himself, "More, more, more." As he did so, the number of swords above him increased while the suspended debris began taking shape as pointed weapons. Even wood and pottery pieces transformed into sharp objects for piercing or cutting.
"Get me anyone from the Smoke Tribe," Dean commanded.
"Suck in the smoke," Dean instructed a man who approached him. The man stepped forward and opened his mouth; smoke spiraled into his mouth and down into his stomach.
The weapons raining down on Dean's troops were no ordinary projectiles; each blade had been infused with mana, making them harder than diamonds. As they fell from the air, they sliced through the atmosphere with a deadly grace, their edges glinting ominously in the dim light. The sheer force of their descent amplified their impact significantly, transforming them into lethal instruments of destruction. Soldiers who thought they could shield themselves found their defenses futile as the blades easily pierced through shields and armor alike, leaving behind trails of chaos and despair.
The sight was nothing short of spectacular. Various weapons fell at incredible speed, creating a mesmerizing yet horrifying spectacle as they struck the ground and their targets. The air was filled with the sounds of metal clashing against metal and the anguished cries of soldiers caught off guard. Those who managed to raise their shields quickly discovered that the mana coating on the blades made them stronger and more penetrating than any ordinary weapon. The result was devastating; many soldiers fell before they even had a chance to react, their faces etched with shock as they realized the futility of their efforts.
As Carl watched his technique unfold, he felt a surge of power coursing through him. Each weapon that struck true was a testament to his skill and determination. He had turned the tide of battle in an instant, showcasing not only his mastery over manna but also his unwavering resolve to protect what remained of his forces. The once chaotic battlefield transformed into a scene of calculated destruction, where every blade that fell was a reminder of his fight for survival against overwhelming odds.
In that moment, Carl felt that he was not just fighting for himself; he was fighting for justice, for the truth behind the betrayal he had suffered. With each weapon that rained down, he felt a sense of vindication, knowing that he was taking back control from those who sought to destroy him.
Dean stepped onto the ground and shouted "Earth Boulder!" The ground rose up to form a wall that shielded him. He channeled manna into it, making it harder than iron. The thick layer combined with the manna in the earth boulder saved him from death.
He looked around as his men fell all around him. Some who had projected shields still succumbed as the projectiles proved too strong. Others lay on the ground wailing as blood oozed from their limbs and other parts of their bodies.
Carl saw the few men still standing and shook his head in disappointment; he had hoped to take them all down in his final move. Some of the fallen weapons rose again under Carl's guidance—though this time there were only a few. The large number had put immense strain on his mana and mental focus; there were spirit users at his level who struggled to control such quantities of objects.
The risen blades pierced through some of those standing from behind. They fell silently, their expressions betraying confusion over how they had died. Only a few managed to sense danger and evade in time.
Carl dropped all remaining blades just in time to raise an invincible barrier that blocked two incoming attacks. Turning around, he found two newcomers standing in front of Dean; they seemed to have just arrived on the scene. They glared at him menacingly, one growling, "Since you are a traitor, why don't you just accept your fate? You are insufferable scum."
Carl regarded them thoughtfully while contemplating his next move; he needed to escape, gather his strength, and uncover the truth behind this betrayal. One thing was certain: he was now a fugitive from the very empire he had served.
He still couldn't wrap his head around it—he was innocent yet no one would listen to him. He had depleted much of his mana and knew he couldn't continue for long.
Before he could think further, the two newcomers attacked simultaneously. Carl summoned a sword from the ground just in time to block an attack from one assailant while another sent him flying through the air. He exerted great effort to land on his feet; any sign of weakness would only embolden his attackers.
The two men attacked from either side of Carl as he channeled manna through his sword and counterattacked. It is often said that offense is the best form of defense—and this proved true in this case. If he merely defended himself, reinforcements from Dean's side would inevitably arrive; Carl couldn't afford that.
He swung his sword in an uppercut motion that sent one assailant's weapon flying out of his hand. Immediately afterward, he turned his back on that man while bringing his sword down diagonally toward another foe's abdomen; it pierced through him effortlessly before appearing behind him. The attack was so sudden and graceful that it took the second man completely by surprise—he had no time to react at all.
Carl pulled out his sword, allowing the corpse to fall slowly to the ground.
Dean's mouth fell open in shock; he lost composure and became visibly agitated. "Why is it so hard to kill just one man? Why? Why? Why?" he thought desperately.
The remaining soldiers charged at Carl before they could reach him; he executed an attack named "Swirling Wind."
He extended his knees slightly and lowered his hips while stretching out his hands; swirling them in circular motions filled with manna, he shouted, "Air Swirl Two Folds!"
The surrounding air turned turbulent as two circular currents burst outward from Carl's position as their epicenter. These air currents filled with powerful manna formed so rapidly that they couldn't counter it—sending everyone flying backward with tremendous force. Some died upon impact while others were knocked out cold.