I stood helpless as I watched in awe as the battle unfolded. The Grandwarden's form was a stretch of emerald light accented with amethyst, spinning and weaving through the battlefield with impossibility. Magnar's spell, a masterpiece of intricate magic, began to take shape, its layers of mana forming a barrier that pulsed with ordered energy. If only I had time to make my ideas actionable.
The monstrous abominations roared in defiance, their sickly green mist spreading further as they advanced. But Master fought relentlessly, his blade slicing through the air with precision and force. Each strike landed with devastating effect, the light of his weapon cutting through the patchwork flesh of the beasts, leaving trails of glowing energy in its wake.
Magnar's spell reached its crescendo, the layers of mana coalescing into a massive, shimmering wall that enveloped the battlefield. The green mist recoiled, unable to penetrate the powerful magic. The ground beneath the beasts cracked and splintered as the barrier's energy surged outward, pushing them back and disrupting their formation.
The Allrquin began weaving the barrier to be self-sustaining, drawing in atmospheric mana to sustain itself. A shockwave ripped out from him, his mana electrifying the air. The shockwave of energy radiated across the battlefield and pushed back the remaining beasts while cleared the air of the lingering mist. The defenders cheered, their spirits lifted by the sight of their foes being vanquished.
Magnar spread his hands vertically apart, tracing a circle with his palms horizontally. Simultaneously, a line sprouted above the behemoths, pulling apart to leave a gap in the middle. When he spun his hands, the lines flattened into eight spots, stretching into eight circles above and below the negative space. Mana flowed from Magnar and split into two flows wider than the Gwythriver, rushing into each set of circles.
I did not recognize the runes and patterns of the eighth and seventh layers, but the rest were all energy magic—pure heat. As the spell progressed, Beswick waged attrition against the dreadnoughts. Never for one second could I see him; the only clue to his location was where large black gashes laced around their legs. The white ball shed flames that lapped at the air around it, confined by some invisible barrier forcing the flares back into the center.
The circles bloomed into a mandala pattern, the pair furthest from the gap forming into a circle made of eight overlaid together. Then the seventh pair shifted into a layer made of seven merged circles, all the way to a single circle pair at the heart. Between the singles, a spark ignited. It quickly grew into a ball—a white sphere, completely uniform, without blemish. The first circle burst, fading into particles. The whole spell rotated randomly around the light at its center, weaving mana onto it.
Master continued his relentless assault on the colossuses, his blade moving with blinding speed. The beasts roared in pain and fury, their massive forms struggling to keep up with his onslaught. Each strike left deep, smoking wounds, their black ichor spraying into the air.
The white ball shed flames that lapped at the air around it, confined by some invisible barrier forcing the flares back into the center. The heat emanating from the sphere was immense, the air shimmering and distorting from the sheer intensity. Magnar's concentration was absolute, his movements precise and controlled as he guided the flow of mana.
The spell above them climaxed, the white sphere now blazing like a miniature sun. The mandala patterns rotated faster, the circles merging and splitting in a mesmerizing dance of power. The air around the battlefield crackled with energy, the very ground trembling under the weight of the spell.
As the inferno grew, the second and then third layers burst, their constituent particles absorbed by the new sun that illuminated the hillside. Then the fourth layer as well. The ball of pure energy distorted the air within its invisible expanding prison. The boundary ate the fifth and then the sixth. The spell ceased rotating, snapping in place with the axis aligned over the marching tide.
"Magnar's spell shall hold for now," I said to the wardens around me, mostly reassuring myself though, "But we must be ready for aught."
"BESWICK!" Magnar roared, his voice echoing through the valley. "EVACUATE THE TOWN!"
The cuts halted, granting the horde a fleeting respite. A ribbon of green and violet stretched from the hills to the wall. In a rush of wind, a man vanished on my right, then another. Moments later, no soldiers stood with me on the palisade. I felt a jolt, and the landscape was replaced with a row of buildings. Master appeared beside me, his eyes ablaze with purpose. He spoke swiftly to me.
"Micah," Beswick's voice carried an urgent timbre. "Why resist?"
"Resist?" I replied, bewildered. "I am not."
Beswick's eyes narrowed, a blend of concern and resolve etched upon his features.
"Squire, You sapped my mana, almost at the threshold to maintain this state." Master locked his hand on his knees, panting heavily, "Stay still."
My master left in ribbons of color. Pieces of rubble gathered in a circle around me, stacking quickly. The stones, thicker than two men laying side by side, formed a ring that swiftly grew into a dome over my head. Darkness enveloped me as the last piece settled into place, no light squeezing past the structure.
Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the air, louder than anything I had ever heard. The ground shook with such force that I was thrown to the floor, the heat becoming almost unbearable. The dome creaked ominously, and for a moment, I feared it would collapse. I lay on the floor, panting and covered in sweat, my heart racing. Slowly, cautiously, I pushed myself up and listened. The sounds of battle had faded, replaced by an eerie silence.
Dust fell onto me in a fine, choking haze. The air grew stiflingly hot, beads of sweat forming on my forehead and running down my face. Liquid rock dripped from the ceiling, each drop glowing with a faint, eerie light that gently illuminated the chamber. The molten droplets sizzled as they hit the ground, creating small, hissing pools of magma that added to the oppressive heat.
I felt a deep, bone-rattling tremor shake the ground beneath me, and the dome creaked and groaned in response. Despite the heat and the fear gnawing at my insides, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer power I felt from outside. That spell could have obliterated the whole kingdom without the barrier to vent the power upwards.
Even with the extra layer of magic and with the dome providing some protection, the air was thick with the scent of sulfur and burnt stone, a reminder of the pure elemental energy unleashed outside. I could only hope that the townspeople were safe.
Moments stretched into what felt like hours as the rattle raged on. The ground continued to shake, and the dome grew hotter, the liquid rock dripping more frequently. I tried to focus on my breathing, to remain calm despite the fear threatening to overwhelm me. I had to trust in my master.
I reached out and touched the dome, feeling the warmth of the stones beneath my fingers. The structure held firm, but I knew I couldn't stay inside forever. I needed to see what had happened, to find out if our efforts had been enough.
Gathering my courage, I began to push against the stones, trying to create an opening. The rocks were heavy and hot, but I managed to move a few, creating a small gap. Light streamed in, and I peered through, squinting against the brightness.
Outside, the landscape was unrecognizable. The ground was scorched and blackened, the air filled with the acrid smell of burning. The remains of the horde lay scattered, their monstrous forms reduced to smoldering heaps. The once green fields were now a barren wasteland.
I widened the gap and crawled out, my legs trembling as I stood. The devastation was total, but I couldn't see any sign of Magnar or Beswick. My heart pounded with worry as I scanned the horizon, hoping for any sign of them.
Master stood amidst the wreckage, his armor and weapon slowly returning to their physical forms. He turned to face the city, his eyes meeting mine. Munthe stood venting exhaustion with deep breaths at the center of a world of wonder. A deep pit spanned from where the hills were to were the edge of the barrier was. Around the pit, a crater reached to the walls of the city dirt, grass, stones all missing. Instead weird flat crystals, glowing ores, magma, and black dust littered the exposed earth.
Steam rose from the pit. Heat twisted the air where death once marched.
"Magnar, I think you blasted too deep." Master said as he walked towards the magician.
"What makes you-" He turned to look where Master pointed, "Perchance I did."