Equipment Printing School Mage
Page 270
Dozens of transparent metal balls shattered almost at the same time, and the deafening roar sounded again.
The transparent metal expanded and ruptured in a short moment, shattering into countless fragments above the heads of the skeleton army, spraying in all directions.
And surrounding it is an almost impenetrable army of skeletons.
What’s even more outrageous is that special “ingredients” were added inside the shells.
——Inside each shell, a whole circle of crystal liquid is carefully stored.
Holy water.
This liquid was originally made by the people of Gond in a short period of time during the Battle of Baldur's Gate, known as the Summer's End Rebellion.
Naturally, because the way the war unfolded was beyond the expectations of most people, Flame Fist didn't use up all the holy water in the end, and there was only a little left.
Based on the amount of holy water used by the Flame Fist in the past, the remaining amount of holy water ordered by Mr. Karkoros after the war would be enough for them to use for a hundred years.
However, since the new Marshal of the Flaming Fist and the Mastersmith of Gond arrived at Candlekeep one after another during this battle and faced undead creatures, this batch of holy water has a new use.
The latest thing to damage the skeleton was the fiberglass fragments torn apart by the explosion.
These fiberglasses are the masterpiece of the people of Gond. The material is both flexible and strong, far beyond the reach of ordinary steel, and is the perfect material for projectiles.
——At the same time, these fiberglass themselves also add a little bit of something.
The surface of these fiberglasses emits a faint moonlight.
These incomparably sharp, crystalline fragments, like rotating moons, instantly pierced every horizontal column of skeletons. The skeletons' hollow shells, which had originally been a headache for countless archers, now became a perfect path for the fragments to advance.
These fragments slashed through countless skeletons at terrifying speeds, slicing through them with the effortless ease of butter. Because skeletons lacked bones, a single fragment barely slowed down even after severing an entire skeleton. Some fragments even managed to sever the spine of a skeleton before continuing their whirring, swirling flight.
In an instant, the sound of broken bones became a continuous beat, and even for the skeletons that were lucky enough not to be destroyed by the blow, moon-white flames slowly ignited at the wounds, slowly corroding their long-dead bodies.
Just the first round of impact cleared out 70% of the skeletons at each landing point, but this was only half the power of this special shell.
The holy water contained in it was completely evaporated when the gunpowder exploded, turning into bursts of water vapor that splashed in all directions.
But it was already late autumn, and the splashing holy water vapor had not yet flown far before the heat gained from the gunpowder explosion was slowly drawn away by the cold air on the seashore in late autumn.
Thus, the holy water in the cannonball turned into a large cloud of mist and dispersed around the landing point, covering the remaining skeletons.
Click.
Click.
The fog obscured everyone's vision, but everyone knew what was happening inside.
In the clouds, there was only the sound of bones breaking and melting, and no skeleton could walk out of the clouds.
The artillery fire could not cover all the skeleton phalanxes, but all the phalanxes that were hit were almost wiped out instantly.
This extremely horrifying result shocked all the liches.
They are closer to Candlekeep than the skeletons.
Now, in their eyes, the silent hill has turned into a complete death trap.
They had originally thought that the vampires and ghosts were effectively draining Candlekeep's resources, but now it was unclear which would be exhausted first: their reserve of subordinates or Candlekeep's hidden treasures.
Moreover, they were not completely unaware of firearms—this relatively new weapon had a very clear disadvantage: complete inaccuracy. It could only effectively hit targets at close range. If the Gonds had created enormous muskets to ensure high-powered shots, could this problem be corrected quickly?
But now, almost all the cones hit their targets accurately.
In just a few seconds, thousands of skeletons were reduced to ashes.
Even if liches are top-level necromancers, it is completely impossible for them to accept this death rate!
Now the skeletons are still two kilometers away from the city wall. It will take at least dozens of minutes for this group of skeletons to reach the city. The siege equipment they carried was almost completely lost in the first round of attack.
In an instant, most liches made the same choice.
——Run away.
At the moment the skeletons were destroyed, most of the liches completely disappeared from their original locations and appeared several kilometers away.
Even if it was a new type of weapon, they hid several kilometers away and couldn't even see it, so they were naturally safe.
That's supposed to be the case.
Before the lich even had time to catch its breath, a creature that had been waiting for a long time finally launched its attack.
When a lich gets too close to Candlekeep, it's entirely possible for it to launch a desperate attack before being killed. A single strike from a great wizard can cause heavy damage both inside and outside Candlekeep.
Now that they were several kilometers away, she could attack at will.
Then, a rain of arrows whistled out.
The rain of arrows stopped, and no lich fell from the sky, but the ground was covered with shattered ivory powder.
This round of arrows did not kill any lich, but more than half of the liches had their trigger and chain trigger spells activated by the sudden attack.
That's enough.
Just as Metatron was about to launch a second attack, she felt her killing bow being pinched.
The next second, the Seraph's Bow of Destruction, which could instantly destroy nearly a hundred liches, collapsed.
The shining bow lost all its mass and silently disintegrated into a shadow, falling from Metatron's fingertips.
This longbow had accompanied her for almost endless time, and was a companion that was born with her when she was surrounded by the magic net.
But now, facing the enemy's attack, it has no power to resist at all.
Metatron took a deep breath and turned around silently.
Behind her was an elegant dark purple figure that was taller than the Seraphic Servant who had revealed his true form.
Countless faint dark feathers woven into a faint cloak within the dark clouds covered a curvaceous figure. A figure hidden beneath the cloak softly opened its lips.
"When was the last time we met, Meta?"
Metatron shook his hand without any regret, pulled a scabbarded longsword from his waist, and slung it over his shoulder. "I don't quite remember. I am a servant of Mystril, not of Lady Selune. You are merely an enemy of Selune."
"So, since we are not enemies..." Shar's voice was like a song, "yet you draw your sword against me? Meta, who are you fighting for? For yourself? As one of Mystril's chosen, you are indeed qualified to become the God of Magic."
"It seems I didn't express myself clearly enough." Metatron said calmly, "Mystril's attitude towards you, so-called 'not her enemy', is more accurately -"
"She feels you pose no real threat, and that all those plans you've been planning all day are nothing more than a joke."
"..." Shar's figure trembled slightly, and her voice became cold. "Gods cannot vent their divine power on mortals at will. Even if they are resentful, they can only use the hands of their believers. So, Meta, tell me."
"—Are you, Seraphic Servant, a mortal?"
*****************************
Now, the two leaders in Ghost City both have unhappy expressions.
Larloch's lich army was scared off by a round of shooting and hoped to retreat and regroup.
The face of the Lord of the Ghost City became even uglier.
When Shade City was last active in Faerûn, Apodel Adrian had already been born. However, its activities were limited to central Faerûn, and the turmoil on the Sword Coast had little to do with them. He never took a newly born paladin seriously.
Son of God, Hero, God's Chosen One—
Such things were not uncommon in Faerûn. Every year, a lucky individual rose to fame and was boasted about by the bard for months. How could he possibly remember every single one of them?
However, a holy knight who was invincible a hundred years ago, a hundred years later, after his church was reduced to ashes, was still alive and well despite being hunted down by his former enemies.
This is a bit too terrifying.
"...Among my descendants, many are outstanding mages. They are eager to slay the last jewel of the Church of Mystra and prove their wisdom and courage to our Lord." Tantur stood up silently. "But, in just a few minutes of fighting, the corpses of the people of Ghost City have already covered the entire street."
Apodel Adrian.
Larloch said calmly, "I think I may have said that the Red Mage system originally consisted of eight schools, with each school leading its apprentices to conquer each other. But today, only the Red Mage of the Necromancer School remains dominant."
Tantur frowned, without responding to this incoherent sentence, and disappeared from the spot in a flash.
Larroc shook his head.
A single family?
It was just that the seven schools had no power to fight back against Apodel Adrian, and were slaughtered in a bloody massacre, and were eventually swallowed up by the Undead System.
Even the liches under Larloch were at a loss when facing Apodel.
Tantur finally disappeared from the throne, and Larloch finally stood up and shook his head.
He came to the City of Ghosts not in the hope that these followers of Shar could really resist the Son of Bhaal, whom Sel feared.
His only purpose in coming here was to want two things.
The Nether energy core that makes an entire city float in the air.
And, the city itself.
Chapter 61: Dark Embrace (I)
What is the definition of mortal?
Perhaps adventurers have heard this word from the mouths of countless enemies, and adventurers in the general sense are indeed the representatives of this word.
So, the second question is: Who is not mortal?
**************************
Metatron's provocation made Shar's voice become extremely cold.
It was already night, though the moonlight could still be seen through the clouds. But as Shar uttered her last word, absolute darkness descended.
From the sky above to the earth below, whether within the walls of Candlekeep or above the bay, all places, whether the original light sources were the eternal torches or all of Emia's companion moons, were completely disabled at the same time.
Eyes, one of the most important organs in the human body, no longer have any meaning at this moment.
So, is the Seraphic Servant a mortal?
Are you kidding me? She is not a mortal by any definition.
There are two definitions of so-called mortals: First, those creatures living in the astral plane and the ether, the outer planes and the inner planes look down on the mortals of the material plane, believing that they are closer to the reality of the world. In their mouths, the mortals of the material plane are even worthy of being called "barbarians".
The second is those wonderful creatures that are born different. Biological species do have differences in strength, but there is a limitation that is very difficult to make up for later.
--life.
Ordinary humans rarely live to a hundred years old. Even with all their efforts, their flesh and blood bodies can only survive for a few hundred years. But dragons are born with a lifespan of thousands of years.
The elves, the sons of Corellon, banished from Arvandor, may not even have a real lifespan: each elf will board a ship to Evermeet when his time comes, from where it is said that the elves will journey to the Kingdom of God.
An elf that died of old age? This is a legend that no one witnessed.
However, even elves, as they age, will gradually develop certain physical features that indicate that they are no longer young.
Metatron, born from the embrace of the Demonic Web, has stood at the pinnacle of life and the world since that moment, accompanying the gods for millennia.
There is neither growth nor decline.
The most outrageous thing is that she is also the chosen one of the goddess of magic.
The elects of the Magic Goddess are decisively different from the elects of other gods: they are all given silver fire by the Magic Goddess of the time.
Silver Fire is not a blessing from the gods.
It is part of the essence of God.
To put it in an exaggerated way, all the chosen ones of the Magic Goddess are incarnations of a god.
Such an inhumane gift could only be passed down through the lineage of three generations of powerful goddesses. The chosen ones of other gods simply had a more direct connection with the gods.
How could a Seraph among the Seraphs like Metatron be a mortal!
——So, she will face the full wrath of a god.
Almost the moment the darkness spread, Metatron felt the weight of the darkness.
She was being observed and touched.
Shar disappeared from Metatron's sight.
Metatron could see in the dark, but she would rather not have that ability at this moment.
In this darkness, there was only one thing she could see.
——A pair of lavender eyes that exude charming charm.
Mystrel never paid attention to Shar's power, but Metatron had actually been extremely wary of her for a long time.
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