A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 538 So you are one too

Iltsov focused his attention on both sides. Besides Richard and Paul's group entering from the outside, there was also the magic guild in Oward.

The guild building is located on the shore. Now it has become a stronghold for the city to fight against monsters. The towering structure gives people a sense of security, and they gradually gather around it for refuge.

There weren't many official mages left in the guild; it was mainly apprentices who used the protective devices set up in the buildings to resist.

As a general entrusted with important responsibilities by the empire, Iltsov's understanding of the magic guild, while not as good as that of spellcasters, was still more extensive than that of ordinary people.

He knew he had to create a time lag—when the war began, the city's communication nodes would be offline due to the anti-magic device's shielding effect, and after the general imprisoned the troublesome Hench, he would immediately order his personal guards to take over the post office and telegraph office, thus completely controlling the city's communications.

Therefore, Iltsov must complete all the rituals before the guild headquarters restores its communication network. Otherwise, the worst-case scenario is that an archmage will have to urgently teleport to the scene.

"Can you speed up the whole ceremony?" Iltsov asked Grigory carefully, his tone carrying both a command and what he thought was respect.

Gregory didn't seem to care much about the general's attitude. Judging from his expression, he was indifferent to everything that was happening and was pacing back and forth in front of the alchemy potion cabinet.

The original owner of the mage tower had long since disappeared. He might still be in the army, or he might have died in battle. In any case, the bottles and jars belonging to the tower's owner were covered with a thin layer of dust.

Gregory pried open the bottle caps and smelled each bottle until he could detect the aroma of alcohol before taking a sip.

If it were one of his own soldiers putting on such a show in front of Iltsov, the pot-bellied general wouldn't mind taking out his specially made, extended brass-tipped leather belt and whipping Gregory into a spinning top. But now he just gave up in frustration and took out his monocular telescope to scan the street.

Iltsov has already decided to hold the second ceremony at the Magic Guild headquarters.

As people born in the north, after their ancestors were absorbed by the empire, the Iltsov family retained the tradition of supporting their personal guards, who were all barbarians skilled in horsemanship, archery, and plunder. Now, Iltsov has used the "blessing" of the gods to "upgrade" his capable subordinates.

He opened the filthy scroll, walked to the window, and began to sing aloud, his voice booming from his potbelly. Even Gregory, who was focused on finding an alcoholic drink, couldn't help but stop what he was doing to listen, watch, and let out an enigmatic smile beneath his disheveled beard.

As a fellow Northman, Gregory vaguely remembered his grandfather calling out in the same way across the wilderness, calling out to the beginning of all things, calling out to the end of all things.

Under the command of the spell, the flesh and blood that almost covered the street began to move on their own again. Instead of reconstructing more monsters, they found cracks in the ground and burrowed into the soil, returning to the embrace of Mother Earth.

Then, they regained their strength and went to annihilate the enemy. They gathered and surged below, growing stronger and stronger, as if the city had come alive, and the streets became its pulsating heartbeat.

"What's that sound? Is someone singing?" Richard was surprised by the faint singing in the city, but soon only the howling north wind remained, making him think he was hallucinating.

The battle continued smoothly after entering the city.

This may be the time in the history of the city of Oward that there are the most mages, and they are all acting in concert.

With their accumulated combat experience, they became increasingly efficient at killing fleshy monsters, mostly using lightning magic, with a few unleashing silver holy light—compared to the golden light of the Church of Order, the holy damage from the mages was sharper and more aggressive.

"We've been clearing out the monsters, but the ritual shows no signs of stopping." Paul frowned and looked up at the sky, which remained deathly white, devoid of any sunlight or movement, as if an artificial white curtain of light enveloped the entire city.

And shadows were gathering above it, the edges like scattered ashes, making one feel very uneasy.

"There's a fluctuation of magical energy, but at its core is the Magic Guild's headquarters?" Richard's perception of environmental magic remained the best among the accompanying mages (unless Rorschach was present), but this time his judgment was cautious:

"This is the only judgment I can make. If the core of the evil ritual is within the city, then we are in the same direction as the guild."

Many of the accompanying mages were not guild members, and they immediately showed expressions of "understanding".

The mages of Valuwa were all guild members, so they naturally wanted to save face. Pascal came up with a reasonable explanation: "It's very likely that the connection between the base and the communication network was severed during the deployment of the anti-magic field, and the guild is now mobilizing magic to reconstruct the magic array."

This viewpoint resonated with many people. Given such a drastic change, as long as the people inside the base haven't had their brains set on fire or been eaten by the fleshy monsters, communication with the outside world should be restored as soon as possible.

"Is it possible that there were no human rituals involved, and the cataclysm was simply a natural phenomenon? I mean, the emergence of other forces, such as the several intrusions of the Earth Mother Goddess in Valuwana, and the persecution of Seraphim," Paul raised a new thought.

"Perhaps both are possible," Richard assessed. "Clearly, some kind of force is at work. Based on our past experience, rituals shouldn't be so easily effective since the Silent Generation."

They were now led by spellcasters from the garrison, with the leader walking around with a map, eventually leading the mages back to the garrison's temporary encampment.

"Stop! Be on alert!"

A strong smell of blood!

Everyone immediately tensed up. In front of the open space, the outpost and barracks had all been demolished into pieces, and the crooked pillars and walls were covered with connective tissue and oozing a viscous liquid that was mainly dark red.

In the center of the drill ground stood several men dressed in animal skins. They did not carry guns, but held curved sabers and stood leading their horses.

Both people and horses were covered in blood and gore, and in the winter mist, the mist was strange, slowly sinking down.

"Hey! You're General Iltsov's personal guard, right? What happened? Did monsters attack the camp?" The leading mage, in a panic, tried to approach the barbarian cavalrymen standing amidst the blood and grime, but Richard didn't have time to stop him. He could only use [Mage's Hand] to grab the mage who was walking forward: "Look carefully!"

Only a blind or foolish person would think that the person standing there is a normal person, but the spellcaster made a stupid mistake at this moment.

Then a foreign melody began to play, suited to a baritone voice. Richard finally realized he wasn't hallucinating.

As if receiving a command, the people and horses suddenly sprang into action: the horse-shaped monster raised its front hooves and kicked, while at the same time the blood-covered man grabbed the horse's back and mounted it.

All the mages thought they would leap and get right in front of them, and all sorts of lightning and rays flew wildly in the air. Unexpectedly, these blood-red monsters plunged into the ground and melted into other sticky filth. Their initial move was practically a preparation for diving.

"They're here!"

Suddenly, three blue shields appeared in front of and behind the accompanying mage who was acting as a guide. The monsters burst out of the ground, their blood reforming into the shape of cavalrymen, and began to hack and slash wildly.

The Blue Light Barrier was designed by Paul, Richard, and Pascal.

They exchanged surprised glances and expressions in the heat of the moment, with the senior student blurting out, "So you're one too."

(End of this chapter)