Chapter 162

If Bradford’s sixfold strengthening spell broke the reflective barrier, then they’d need a barrier that could cover a large area to block the explosion and the resulting blast winds. In that case, Louis—with his skill at large barriers—would protect Emanuel and his surroundings. And if the Gem Mage blocked Bradford’s attack and the Starspear destroyed his barrier instead, it would be Monica’s job to safeguard him. Monica’s defensive barriers lacked the intensity and range of Louis’s, but she could do things he couldn’t thanks to her unchanted magecraft. …Deploying a barrier. Monica put up a defensive barrier between Emanuel and the Starspear. And not just one or two—she threw barrier after barrier at it, weakening the Starspear each time—just as she’d once done to block Starweaving Mira’s assault. Each time a barrier was shattered, a new one would appear over its remains. Then that one would shatter, and another would appear. As Monica watched the Starspear, the greatest offensive magecraft in the kingdom, her eyes held no fear. Her face was impassive, her gaze fixed on that spear of stars even as her mind swam in a world of numbers, rapidly calculating optimal intensities, scopes, and positions. Changing coordinate axis. Recalculating. Confirmed. Maximizing intensity. Fixing scope. Changing coordinate axis. Recalculating. Confirmed. The spell was already weakened by Pauloshmer’s Mirror of Execution, and now Monica dispassionately deployed her barriers, one after the other—all to manifest her beautiful world of numbers and magecraft with precision and perfection. The Starspear gradually lost its white radiance until it eventually burst, and the remaining light scattered and dissipated. Monica had watched the entire thing without blinking. And when she spoke, her voice was monotone. “Annihilation of Starspear confirmed… I’ve…stopped it completely.” Emanuel sank to the ground, unscathed. They’d successfully destroyed his class-one reflective barrier without killing him. Emanuel fell to his knees and hung his head in a stupor. His secret weapon, Pauloshmer’s Mirror of Execution, was destroyed. His magical armored soldiers were all under the control of Ray’s curse. He had no more magical items to make defensive barriers with. His only remaining weapon was Galanis, the Flute of the False King, which still hung around his neck. But gathering low and mid-level spirits now would do nothing for him—not against these monsters. “You mustn’t fall to your knees so easily, my master,” whispered the flute. Why did the voice seem to be coming from both the magical item and from inside his head? “You have yet to wage war. You have yet to become a hero. Now, let us begin the war. Come now. Hurry.” The flute’s stubborn insistence rattled his eardrums. His vision swam. Still on his knees, he clapped his hands over his ears. “I can’t… I…never could…” “No, no! You will become a hero.” But even with his ears covered, Galanis’s voice reverberated deep inside them. It was almost as though it were eating away at his mind. “And I will set the stage for you to shine.” That was when Emanuel lost consciousness.