Age of Adepts

Darkblood adepts riding on large owls continued to dive down.

The energy beams firing from the Capital of Steel surged into the sky, so densely packed that there was simply no space to dodge.

The Darkblood adepts’ colorful shields glowed, rippling violently underneath the barrage of energy beams. The color of their shields quickly turned from yellow to red, signaling the shift to extreme danger.

The shields of many low-grade adepts shattered. Their bodies were wrapped up in the energy storm where they were torn to shreds, cast down from the sky like a rain of blood. At the same time, fearsome spells cascaded from the skies, instantly baptizing all of the city’s buildings in a torrent of destruction.

“Don’t bother with those buildings. Land now!” Zuval, the adept put in charge of the vanguard by the Fourth Grade adept, realized that breaching the enemy’s wild line of fire on their owls was near impossible.

He let out a battlecry and jumped off of his mount. His entire body turned into a meteor burning with black flames as he crashed down upon the metal plaza before the palace at the center of the city.

As fast as the wind, as fierce as fire.

“Wenno, dodge.”

A loud voice boomed out in the air. It was the Fourth Grade adept of the Istanal Clan.

Third Grade Adept Wenno, who was hiding inside the plant monster, had long since realized that the two cannons had locked on to his position. However, while the giant magic energy cannons were charging up, his ears, mind, and thoughts were all occupied by the strange sound created by the charging energy.

When he finally returned to his senses and tried to dodge in horror and shock, his limbs felt as heavy as lead. It was like he was trying to swim against the current. Even taking a single step was incredibly difficult.

Spiritual pressure? Spiritual pressure from where?

With the vast knowledge and experience of a Third Grade adept, Wenno was able to instantly recognize the unusual power that was affecting his body and mind. However, before he could produce the appropriate magical equipment to neutralize the mental power affecting him, the magic energy cannons in the distance trembled. Two energy fireballs that had been concentrated to the limit curved through the air and crashed into the plant monster.

The vines that were supposed to be as tough as steel were vaporized instantly. The two energy fireballs penetrated several dozen meters of brambles and thorns, finally crashing onto Wenno’s magical shield.

A muffled boom.

A red sun of horrifying heat and brightness rose from within the plant monster, vaporizing everything within a thousand meters in devastating fashion.

Adept Wenno and all one hundred Darkblood adepts around him were turned to plasma without a chance to scream. Their life, soul, and anything that might have been part of them had vanished without a trace.

The only thing left in the world was the blinding white light and the unbearable waves of heat.

The power from the combined shots of two giant magic energy cannons was already comparable to the all-out attack of a Fourth Grade adept!

Back then, even the Fourth Grade amethyst dragon, Toril, had to retreat from the giant magic energy cannon. That was even though amethyst dragons were known for their resilience and excellent physical defenses. How could these Darkblood adepts of no more than Second and Third Grade ever survive such destruction?

Both the Darkblood adepts caught up in the fighting, and the patrolling adepts watching from afar, were horrified. Their faces flushed white, and their hearts beat violently in shock.

They tried to put themselves in poor Wenno’s position. Could they have survived such a terrifying energy attack? The answer in their hearts frightened them to their very core.