Tigeria stood before Alaric with a triumphant smile, as if certain that he had defeated the legendary old elf. Before his eyes, a hundred magical swords floated, shimmering in the magical light. His "ALMESICUS" magic was one of the ultimate techniques that only the most talented magic swordsmen could master, and he was immensely proud of it.
"Hahaha! Alaric Iceborn, it's time for you to disappear from this world!" Tigeria shouted, believing that his attack was unstoppable. With eyes gleaming with confidence, he looked at the spinning magical swords in the air, ready to strike Alaric from all directions.
However, he was not facing just any magician. Alaric merely smiled, a smile that Tigeria could not comprehend, a smile that made Zanuba, who was watching the battle, feel an even deeper sense of dread.
"It seems," Alaric said casually, his voice sounding calm and light, "you need to train for another few hundred years to truly master that magic."
In an instant, something unexpected happened. Alaric's eyes, usually a soft blue like the morning sky, slowly turned blood-red, emitting an unnatural red glow. The aura around him changed; the grace and cheerfulness that usually radiated from him vanished, replaced by a haunting darkness.
His body slowly lifted off the ground, hovering several meters in the air, surrounded by a pulsating red aura, like a heart beating rapidly.
Zanuba, who had been laughing with Alaric during their journey, could only gape at this drastic transformation. She took a step back, unable to comprehend the immense power now emanating from the figure who had once seemed so silly and cheerful.
With a deep, cold voice, Alaric recited the same spell as Tigeria. "ALMESICUS!" he shouted, but this time, the magic emerging from Alaric far surpassed anything Tigeria had ever done. From Alaric's palms, thousands—no, tens of thousands—of magical swords began to appear, filling the air with a deafening roar.
The swords floated in the air, spreading out and ready to pierce anything that dared to block their path.
Tigeria fell silent, his eyes wide. The pride he once held so high vanished in an instant. He never imagined that a magician could manipulate magic with such overwhelming power, even beyond his wildest thoughts.
"Thousands of swords?" Tigeria whispered, his lips trembling. "That's… impossible..."
Zanuba, standing not far from Tigeria, was speechless with fear she could not articulate. She could only watch with bated breath, her heart pounding, struggling to grasp the magnitude of Alaric's power. For a girl who knew little about magic, this was beyond her comprehension.
Yet, before Alaric fully unleashed his magical attack, something within him shifted. His glowing red eyes slowly faded, returning to their soft blue hue. The terrifying red aura gradually dissipated, and the magical swords filling the air began to disappear one by one, like smoke blown away by the wind.
Alaric sighed deeply, realizing he had nearly released too much power. "Hmm, it seems I may have overdone it," he said softly, returning to his cheerful and relaxed tone. He then canceled the ALMESICUS spell and recited another spell, one he deemed sufficient to defeat Tigeria without destroying the entire valley.
"BLACK HOLE," Alaric chanted calmly, and from his palm emerged a small black hole, no larger than a basketball, but incredibly powerful and deadly. The black hole began to suck in everything around it, creating a strong wind that pulled in rocks and dust.
Tigeria tried to escape, but the force of the black hole was too great to avoid. His body started to be drawn toward the hole, and for the first time, genuine fear appeared on his face.
"No! Mercy! Please!" Tigeria cried out in panic, begging for mercy, but Alaric was unaffected. He remained calm, letting the black hole pull Tigeria in. In seconds, the bandit leader was gone, sucked into the darkness without a trace. His screams faded, and the valley returned to silence.
Tigeria's forces, witnessing the defeat of their leader, immediately fled in terror. They knew there was no point in fighting a magician with such power. They scattered, abandoning their weapons and running without looking back.
Alaric, now back to his cheerful self, patted his robe as if brushing off dust. "Well, that should be enough to make them think twice." He then turned, looking at Zanuba, who was still kneeling beside Harith's lifeless body. The little girl clung to her guardian's body with uncontrollable sobs, calling out his name in a hoarse voice.
"Harith… Harith… wake up… please..." Zanuba pleaded with a voice full of sorrow, but there was no response. Harith was gone, leaving this world forever.
But unlike Zanuba, who was lost in grief, Alaric seemed preoccupied with his own affairs. He wandered around the bandit's hideout, opening several wooden barrels and sniffing their contents. His eyes lit up when he found what he was looking for: the long-coveted Leronica beer. With a beaming face, he opened one of the barrels and took a sip.
"Ahhh… finally," he said, savoring the beer with satisfaction. As if the freshness of the beer could overshadow everything that had happened that day, Alaric appeared happy, like a child receiving his favorite candy.
Zanuba, though still engulfed in her sorrow, glanced at Alaric with tearful eyes. She could not understand how someone could be so indifferent after such a major battle and loss.
After enjoying his beer, Alaric approached Zanuba again. "Come on, Zanuba. We need to return to the village. The village chief needs to know that the bandit leader has been defeated. And of course, I can't wait to tell him that the Leronica beer is safe in my hands."
Zanuba wiped her tears, though her heart still felt heavy. Reluctantly, she stood up, leaving Harith's body for the last time. With slow steps, she followed Alaric back to the village, heading toward an uncertain future. But at least one threat had been removed.
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