Chapter Thirty-Two: A Dire Situation (Part Two)

Almost simultaneously, several spells from different schools were swiftly and skillfully cast, filling in the gaps that arrows and spears could not cover. The coordination of these attacks was flawless, clearly the work of a team long accustomed to working together.

Caught off guard, Wei Wuji and the Special Agent were both affected by the icy spear, for its true target was the Special Agent himself. The closer one approached the spear’s tip, the colder the air became; pure white frost crystals whirled in the wake of its thrust, hurtling mercilessly toward the Special Agent.

Suddenly, the Special Agent let out a thunderous roar, as if ten dragons bellowed in unison, so fearsome that even Euclid, who wielded the spear, faltered for a moment. In that instant, the Special Agent seized the opportunity to snatch up a fallen warden’s iron sword and brought it crashing down upon the spear’s tip.

The iron sword shattered like ice. Upon contact, the spear’s extreme cold altered the very nature of the metal, sapping its hardness and resilience, so that when the two forces clashed, the blade could not withstand the impact.

Yet the wielder of the icy spear did not escape unscathed. At the moment the sword struck, his body seemed trampled by a giant beast—flattened and stretched in an instant before snapping back to form. The shock of such violent distortion left blood seeping from his features. Euclid withdrew his spear and retreated swiftly, for he had already recognized who he was up against. Alone, he knew he stood no chance, and even with the combined might of his five-man squad, victory was far from assured. Moreover, his adversary was accompanied by Wei Wuji, whose lethal ambush of the Third Regiment’s commander had once shifted the tide of battle—a feat Euclid had witnessed with his own eyes.

At this moment, the spells originally meant to support their captain’s assault found a new purpose. Though not of the highest order—two fifth-tier spells, Wind Sonic Boom and Firebrand, and a sixth-tier Icicle—they now served to hinder rather than harm, forcing the Special Agent to take a deep breath and steel himself.

A yellow radiance seeped from the Special Agent’s body, forming an aura of battle energy that fended off the oncoming magic. In the cramped confines, the spells erupted with force, their power clashing violently against the life-source-fueled aura, as if two invisible hands wrestled for dominance. Yet the Special Agent’s aura easily prevailed, smothering the three spells as effortlessly as throwing a heap of sand on a spark.

The spellcasters immediately cast a water-based healing spell on the retreating Euclid, followed by a series of radiant flashes—an earth-shield of the fourth tier and Stoneskin, all conjured with remarkable speed. Though not quite instantaneous, their casting verged on it, marking this mage as a true Magus.

Among magic-users, the distinction between Magus and Archmage—or their equivalents, such as Sages—marks those who have truly mastered the essence of magic. They possess unique techniques, enabling them to cast spells instantly; the ability to instantly cast spells of the third to fifth tier is the dividing line between Magi and ordinary mages. Of course, some with special gifts may accomplish this as well. Instantaneous casting of seventh-tier spells is generally the province of Archmages, for Magi find both the magical and physical strain too great. As for eighth and ninth-tier spells, only adult dragons are known to perform such feats with ease—though, it is rumored, a few exceptional humans or elves might barely manage it.

With his companions’ aid, Euclid finally caught his breath and shouted, his voice tinged with astonishment, wonder, a strange excitement, and a trace of fear: “It’s Grant! That’s Grant! Quickly, inform Lord Hendry and Major General Antonio!”

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At this moment, Cecily stood at the edge of the great marsh. Before her stretched a vast swampland and a wooden raft. One reason why the conflict between humans and beastmen was so rare here, near the Southern Certesbius Mountains, was the treacherous terrain. The mountain paths were so steep even the Mangks trod them with caution, and the only other route into the beastman heartlands lay across this marsh. But the marsh was perilous, for it neighbored the territory of the most fearsome of orc tribes—the Cadille Crocodilians.

The Cadille’s carapaces were so tough that arrows could scarcely pierce them, and their strength was prodigious. Their mouths bristled with sharp teeth capable of chewing through spears, and even the Biel tribe preferred to avoid conflict with them. Cold-blooded and ruthless, their tribe was notorious for its habit of devouring the living. In sheer combat strength, even Rhine and Tygo might suffer dearly should they cross the Cadille, and so the Cadille had long resented their exclusion from the orcish power center.

The tribe’s only true weakness was their numbers. Altogether, they numbered but a few thousand—about a thousand adult male warriors, fewer than a thousand adult females, and the rest were either unformed young or already enfeebled elders.

Now, at least a dozen Cadille stood around Cecily. Each towered over two meters tall, with blood-red eyes and vicious, jutting jaws that occasionally dripped saliva. Cecily was terrified, clutching tightly to Sister Smai’s sleeve.

Yes, Sister Smai—the knight known as Smai was, in fact, a woman, and a beastwoman at that. She bore a pair of wings upon her back, and her true name was Indira. “Smai” referred to an extinct clan among the beastfolk—the Swanfolk. Disguised as a merchant from the Wildland Continent, Indira was bound for the Fireplain of the beastmen, acting as a royal envoy of the Behemoth lineage.

“Indira, I’m frightened,” Cecily whispered anxiously.

“There’s no need to be afraid. These are Cadille—they may seem rough, but trust me, you’re safe. I am their guest, and as my friend, you are their guest as well. I represent the illustrious Gandhi family and serve as the royal envoy of Behemoth.”

“Lady Indira, you may rest assured,” said one of the crocodilians courteously, reluctantly averting his gaze from Cecily and wiping away a strand of drool. He was Anubis, second son of the Cadille chieftain.

This did not entirely allay Cecily’s fears, but so long as she stayed near Indira, she felt a little safer. On their journey, Cecily had inadvertently discovered Indira’s true gender, and their friendship had deepened. Upon their arrival in Gaul, Indira had intended to leave Cecily there and continue her mission alone, but to their surprise, Cecily’s entire family was being hunted in the city.

Recognized by guards at the city gate, Cecily was nearly captured—even the cavalry was deployed. But Indira revealed her true form, unfurled her wings, and whisked Cecily away to safety through the skies.

Thus Cecily accompanied Indira to visit the Biel and Mangks tribes. Both accorded the ancient beastfolk due respect, but nothing more. In the current Fireplain, Rhine and Tygo alternated the throne, the eight great tribes forming the power core. But in ages past, the Behemoth lineage had ruled as the single orcish king.

“You need only take this raft to cross the Southern Certesbius Mountains and enter the heartlands, Lady Indira,” Anubis said, casting a covetous glance at the women. Yet he dared not act rashly. Though the orcs no longer universally recognized the Behemoth king, the Cadille keenly sought to exploit this connection, long resentful of being excluded from the power center. Thus, while the Biel and Mangks kept their distance, the Cadille offered aid.

“I hope you can send someone to guide me into the Fireplain,” Indira replied. “Though I can fly, I cannot carry her far, and as the Behemoth king’s envoy, I should not simply fly to my destination. As an emissary, I ought to travel on foot, giving them time to prepare for my arrival. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely!” Anubis exclaimed. “You are the Behemoth king’s envoy—the path you tread represents the king’s return to these lands. To fly would only represent the Smai, of course, not to diminish the Gandhi family’s greatness, which I have heard much of, but the meaning is different. You should represent the Behemoth king—am I right?”

“Precisely,” Indira replied.

“In that case, our tribe will send a woman as your guide—my sister Gina will accompany you,” Anubis declared, his bloodshot eyes gleaming.

A female crocodilian emerged from behind him, opening her massive jaws in a toothy smile at Cecily.

Cecily managed a reluctant smile in return. Anubis pointed to the raft. “Go now, my sister—and take good care of our honored guests along the way.”