Beneath the raging storm, with hail, thunder, and rain pouring down, Sir Francis lay on the ground, holding himself upright with one arm. In front of him, a witch stood, her wand raised, preparing to strike. Her grin was twisted with malice, her eyes gleaming as she focused on her prey. Nearby, Sylvia held a defensive stance, unable to help as another witch engaged her, bombarding her with blasts of magic. Meanwhile, the guards scrambled for cover as a third witch mocked them from above, taunting as she rained down spells.
The situation seemed hopeless. The witch in front of Sir Francis grinned wider, ready to deliver her blow. Suddenly, a bright, thunderous energy struck directly at the dark vortex above. A loud cracking sound and a roar of thunder echoed through the air. Everyone below was stunned, their expressions filled with shock as the storm gradually dispersed.
Sunlight pierced through the clouds.
The witches were momentarily frozen in disbelief. The one standing before Sir Francis muttered, "No, what happened? It can't be..."
Sir Francis seized the opportunity, grabbing his nearby sword. With a swift, decisive movement, he lunged forward, driving his blade through the witch's body. She screeched, "Gah!" but remained standing, spitting out, "You piece of—" Her words were cut short as her body stiffened. She let out a final scream, "A...," before her entire form began to crumble, turning to dust from head to toe, blown away by the wind.
Sir Francis, still gripping his sword, stood in disbelief as the witch vanished before his eyes.
Seeing their sister vanish into dust, the remaining witches were stunned, fear lingering in their expressions. The distraction was enough for Sylvia to seize the moment. She shot a burst of magic energy toward the witch attacking her. "Sisters!" one of the witches shouted in warning, but it was too late. The blast struck, severing the witch's arm, and her wand flew away as she lost her balance, falling from the sky with a scream.
The other witch, alarmed, rushed to help her fallen sister, but it was too late. As the wounded witch hit the ground hard, nearby guardsmen charged toward her, swords raised. One stabbed her before she could react. "Why, you..." she muttered weakly before letting out a screech, her body crumbling into dust like her sister.
The last witch, furious, lunged toward Sylvia and the guardsmen, her face twisted in rage as she prepared to strike. However, she had flown too low, and before she could react, a lone guardsman tackled her from the side. They both tumbled to the ground, and her wand flew out of her grasp. She was thrown forward by the momentum, landing harshly a few feet away from her attacker. "Gah..." she screamed in frustration.
Seeing this, Sir Francis called out, "Finish her!" Several guardsmen nearby, swords in hand, rushed toward the fallen witch. She glared at them with fury, her hideous grin returning. As the guards closed in, she slammed both hands onto the ground and screamed, "You think I'm finished? I'll show you! I'll show you all! GAH!"
A burst of dark magic erupted from her fingertips as she chanted, "Arise, arise, my servants! From the depths of the cold, dark night, rise and destroy my enemies!" The ground around her split open, and from the earth emerged skeletal warriors, armed with shields and swords, rising one by one.
Sir Francis, now back on his feet, called out to the guards, "Do not falter! We must take her down! ONWARD!" He raised his sword, pointing it toward the witch as the guardsmen, undeterred, pushed forward, charging toward the new threat.
Clash of metal and sparks filled the air as the guardsmen engaged in fierce battle with the skeletal army. The witch stood at the center of the chaos, cackling as her dark magic seemed to fuel the fight. "Sylvia!" Sir Francis called out, his voice commanding through the turmoil. Without hesitation, Sylvia rushed forward, positioning herself to strike the witch down.
Just as they were about to attack, the witch floated above the ground, an aura of dark energy subtly forming around her, creating an almost invisible barrier of dark magic. She laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the battlefield. "Hehehe...," she sneered, clearly confident in her newfound defense.
"What now..." Sir Francis muttered under his breath, as he parried a direct attack from a skeleton warrior. His eyes never left the witch, calculating his next move. Meanwhile, the witch raised her arm, summoning floating stones and chunks of dirt from the ground around her. With a sudden lunge of her arm, she hurled the debris at the guardsmen and Sir Francis.
They immediately raised their shields to defend themselves from both the onslaught of the skeletons and the projectiles. Sylvia, standing just behind Sir Francis, quickly conjured a protective barrier of magic, covering herself as the stones rained down.
The skeleton army attacked relentlessly, their strikes unyielding. Even when several were cut down, more seemed to spawn from the earth, charging forward without end. A rock flew dangerously toward Sylvia, but in an instant, Sir Francis appeared, parrying it with his shield. He positioned himself to shield both of them. "How are we supposed to stop her? We can't hold out much longer," Sir Francis said, his tone serious, as he continued to deflect incoming attacks.
Sylvia, gritting her teeth, stated, "We need to take the witch down, or the skeletons will keep spawning."
"But she has that magic shield up," Sir Francis replied, glancing up at the hovering witch. "Can you disable it somehow?"
"I can," Sylvia answered, eyes focused, "but I need to get close, and I'm almost at my limit. Even if I manage to disable her shield, I might not have enough magic energy left to bring her down after."
Sir Francis thought quickly, dodging another skeletal attack before dispatching it with a swift strike. Then, with a sudden flash of determination, he said, "Let me do it. I'll break her shield, and once it's down, you hit her with everything you've got."
A moment passed as Sylvia remained defensive, watching Sir Francis slice through a skeleton with precision. "How are you going to reach her?" she asked, her eyes glancing at the hovering witch high above them.
With a confident grin, Sir Francis answered, "Use your magic to launch me. Send me up there, and I'll pierce through her defenses with my sword."
Sylvia blinked in surprise but didn't argue. "Just stabbing the barrier won't be enough," she said quickly. She began chanting a spell and pointed toward Sir Francis' sword. It glowed with a vibrant energy. "I've infused your sword with dispel magic. It should break the barrier for a moment, but only briefly. We'll have one shot."
Sir Francis nodded. "We'll win," he said firmly, confidence surging through him.
"When she's distracted, launch me up," Sir Francis said, his voice firm. Sylvia nodded in understanding, readying herself for the moment.
"Men, CHARGE!" Sir Francis bellowed, and with that, all the guardsmen charged with renewed vigor, dispersing in different directions to divide the witch's attention. Seeing the surge of movement below, the witch began hurling rocks and debris toward them at random, her attention divided. Seizing this opportunity, Sir Francis dashed forward, skillfully evading the skeletal attackers, using the chaos as cover.
Sylvia positioned herself at a safer distance, her eyes locked on Sir Francis, who was now directly beneath the hovering witch. Several guardsmen surrounded Sylvia, acting as her defense against any stray skeletons. The witch, oblivious to Sir Francis' presence directly below her, continued focusing on the scattering guardsmen.
Sylvia quickly pointed her wand toward the ground beneath Sir Francis. In an instant, a powerful spiral of wind erupted from below, propelling Sir Francis upward at incredible speed. With his hands gripping his sword tightly, he aimed straight for the witch's magical barrier.
The sword met the shield with a resounding crack, and a shockwave of energy exploded outward. Sir Francis grunted, thrown back from the force of the impact. "Gah!" the witch screeched, her eyes burning with fury as she spun toward Sir Francis, her focus now on him.
But in that split second, Sylvia had already unleashed her spell. A bright, lightning-like magic blast shot toward the witch. Too late to react, the witch turned just in time to see the attack coming. It hit her directly.
A deafening scream echoed through the air as the witch's body was consumed by the magic. In the blink of an eye, she, too, began to disintegrate.
As the last fragment of the witch dissolving into dust, the sky began to brighten, the dark clouds dissipating as sunlight pierced through the clearing heavens. The once relentless hail and rain ceased, replaced by a calming breeze that swept over the battlefield. One by one, the skeletal army crumbled to the ground, their bones turning to dust, vanishing like shadows at dawn.
Sir Francis lay on the ground, flat on his back, breathing heavily, both arms stretched out beside him, his sword still firmly lodged in the earth nearby. A sense of relief washed over him, his chest rising and falling as he stared up at the sky. The weight of victory and exhaustion settled in, but for the first time since the battle began, a small, satisfied smile crossed his face.
Sylvia sat down nearby, her body weary from the strain of her magic. She closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath, her wand lying at her side. The remaining guardsmen, equally exhausted, sat or stood in silence, taking in the aftermath. Some were helping their injured comrades, bandaging wounds or offering support, while others simply looked on, still processing the victory they had barely believed possible.
The ordeal was over, and a collective sigh of relief filled the air as they all realized they had survived. The once chaotic battlefield now seemed eerily calm, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun.
...
At the Magic Academy, the headmistress stood in astonishment, her mind racing to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Aki had managed to stop the raging storm from a distance in a single take, and not to mention, it was his first attempt at conjuring magic.
Aki, still staring at the horizon where the dark clouds had finally dissipated, wore a satisfied smile. But before he could savor the moment, his balance faltered. His vision blurred, and he nearly collapsed. The maid, swift and attentive, rushed to his side, catching him just before he fell.
"Ugh, what... what happened?" Aki muttered, his voice weak and disoriented.
The headmistress, snapping out of her awe, immediately turned to the maid. "Take him to his chambers. He needs rest."
Aki, though now on his feet, was clearly unsteady and dazed. With the maid's assistance, he was carefully escorted back to his chamber, leaving the headmistress standing alone in the academy yard. She watched them go, her eyes narrowing in contemplation.
In her thoughts, she marveled at Aki's immense magical power. His potential is beyond anything I've ever seen... she thought. But he doesn't yet have control. She realized what had happened to him: he was intoxicated by the sheer force of his own magic. He had pushed himself too far, and his body wasn't ready for it.
As she turned back to the sky, now bright and clear, she couldn't help but feel both hope and concern for the boy destined to be the savior.
...
At the abandoned settlement, debris littered the ground. Rubble and scattered building materials mixed with dirt, mud, and rocks, while scorch marks dotted the landscape. The carriage that had been carrying the mother crystal now lay on its side.
"The wheel seems broken, sir," one of the guardsmen informed Sir Francis.
"What about the mother crystal?" Sir Francis asked.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. It's fine," Sylvia replied, examining the box carefully. She flipped it over, checking for any hidden damage.
Sir Francis stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene. Several soldiers were badly injured, and many of their horses had been lost in the chaos. Taking a heavy breath, he spoke, "We must head to Westdel immediately, without stopping for rest. It's a day's ride. We should arrive by midnight."
He also ordered that the injured guardsmen remain at the settlement until help arrived from Westdel. He designated some of the less-injured soldiers to stay behind and watch over them, while the rest would accompany him.
Sir Francis turned to address Sylvia, but before he could speak, she cut him off. "I'm going with you to Westdel," she said, her tone resolute.
Though still visibly exhausted from the previous battle, Sylvia's determination was unwavering. Sir Francis met her gaze and nodded in agreement. Without another word, they prepared to continue their journey.
Mounting the remaining horses, they set off for Westdel, carrying the precious mother crystal with them.
The road ahead was long, but they rode with a sense of urgency, knowing what was at stake.