Liana's voice cut through the chaotic battlefield, calm yet laced with urgency. "Poll, you said you've got something that can hold them down. Do you think it'll work now? After their… transformation?"
Poll flinched, his eyes wide and his hands waving dramatically. "Uh, I don't know!" he exclaimed, his voice jumping an octave. "I mean, it worked before when they weren't literal gods! But now? Ten times more powerful? Do you realize how many zeroes that is?! It might work if I try, but also, it might not. Who knows!"
Liana shrugged nonchalantly, her expression as relaxed as ever. "We weren't counting on you to help in the first place."
Poll froze, his jaw dropping. "Wait, what?! Then why'd you even agree with me back there?"
Before she could respond, Vekris moved.
It wasn't just speed—it was like the air itself bent to his will. One moment, he stood in place, his smile cool and condescending; the next, he was a blur hurtling straight for Poll.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, catching the movement instantly. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her wind blade, its edges gleaming like liquid light. She intercepted Vekris in a dazzling display of defensive and offensive technique, each strike fast and precise.
But it wasn't enough.
Vekris's speed increased with every step, his movements impossible to follow. Before Seraphina could adjust, he disappeared and reappeared directly in front of her, his hand slamming down. Her staff met his attack but shattered under the impact, splinters flying like shrapnel.
"Mother!" Poll shouted, his voice cracking.
Before Vekris could deliver another blow, Eryndor leapt in, his sword gleaming with an otherworldly aura. The clash was deafening, the force of their collision sending shockwaves across the battlefield. Vekris retreated a step, brushing invisible dust from his immaculate sleeve.
As the dust settled, Vekris strode forward with the ease of a predator toying with its prey. His tone was almost conversational. "Ah, the noble warrior," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "You fight well. Admirably, even. But tell me… how long can you protect your people from someone like me?"
Eryndor's expression hardened, his grip on his sword firm. "Long enough to put you down."
Vekris chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, as though the battlefield itself were laughing with him. "Brave words. Let's see if they hold weight."
Poll's voice rang out, loud and abrupt. "HEY! No need for all this fighting!"
Everyone froze, their eyes turning toward Poll, who strolled forward with an exaggerated swagger. His face radiated nonchalant confidence, though his eyes gleamed with manic energy. "The main character is here!" he declared.
Liana sighed audibly. "Oh, gods. He's doing it again."
Poll raised his hands dramatically, addressing Vekris and Nyra with the air of someone proposing world peace at a school debate. "Look, I've been thinking—and I think we're doing this all wrong. Who needs all this yelling and destruction? Let's settle this like civilized people. Rock-paper-scissors, anyone?"
Nyra's eyes narrowed, her tone icy. "What nonsense is this?"
Poll smirked. "Oh, this? This isn't nonsense. It's my spell."
He snapped his fingers.
Instantly, his gloves began to glow with an ethereal blue light. Magic surged around him, converging in intricate patterns on the ground beneath Vekris and Nyra. Arcane runes spiraled upward, forming a shimmering, inescapable web.
Nyra's expression turned from disdain to shock as she tried to move, only to find the glowing threads following her every step. "What is this? Why won't it let go?"
Poll grinned, his manic energy bubbling over. "Oh, that? That's my mana trap. See, it's stuck to you. Like gum on your shoe. Except, you know, magical and infinitely more annoying."
The threads multiplied, spreading like wildfire. They slithered up Vekris and Nyra's bodies, binding them from the legs up with relentless speed.
Vekris struggled, his movements growing more violent. "This... This is nothing!" he snarled, his aura flaring.
Nyra's hands ignited with dark flames, but every spell she cast fizzled against the glowing threads. "Why can't I break this?!"
Poll stood tall—or as tall as someone who had just winged a plan together could stand. "Oh, you're not getting out of this one," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "See, I made sure this trap was unbreakable. Wanna know how?"
He tapped his temple. "Step one: I analyzed your mana. All of it. And guess what? I found a way to increase your body's weight tenfold at the atomic level. So, congrats—you're now walking gravity wells. Fun, right?"
He gestured at the threads. "Step two: I modified a shield spell. You know, the one that's supposed to resist corruption? I turned it into threads and reinforced it to hold fifty kilograms per thread. Multiply that by a few million threads, and, well, math is fun, isn't it?"
Vekris and Nyra struggled harder, their corrupted auras clashing against the trap. Poll ignored them, his voice speeding up as he rambled.
"Step three: I wrapped you in a nice little mist made of pure anti-corruption mana. So, good luck connecting to your boss or whatever. You're officially off the grid!"
He spun dramatically, pointing at the immobilized assistants. "So there you have it! The strongest spell ever made by the main character! You're welcome."
Liana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Is it actually unbreakable, or are you just hoping it holds?"
Poll shot her a finger gun. "That, my dear Liana, is classified."