“I release thee, Sword of Light!”
When Orphen released the heatwave at the Red Dragon disguised as a child, it split down the middle to avoid it—then both halves charged at him to attack.
Which one’s the real body? He knew that one of them was fake from his battle with Helpart. The fake would disappear a few seconds after detaching from the real one. He had no way of telling which one was which simply by observing. As the two halves of the Red Dragon came at him, green eyes shining, Orphen swiftly composed another spell.
“I bound across thee...Snowcappedand Mountain!”
He jumped back, dodging the hands thrust out by both Red Dragon halves, and opened up some distance between him and them. He couldn’t say whether he had bought enough time for the fake to fade with that one move, so he thrust his arms out before he landed.
“To my fingertips, Shield of Amber!” A wall of compressed atmosphere sprang forth between him and his enemy, buying him more time.
Repelled by the wind pressure, the Red Dragon staggered back. The fake finally reached the end of its life then, fading to nothing in an instant.
Staring down the remaining half, Orphen shouted, “I release thee—”
But the Red Dragon he was targeting suddenly disappeared.
Letting his spell fizzle, Orphen drew a knife with one hand. Did it flee underground? ...No!
The location where the dragon had been standing quivered...like a warping picture, or the view through a pristine window.
It went transparent?! The dragon wasn’t fully invisible. If they weren’t outside and at a distance from each other, it would have been a lot easier to spot it.
Light couldn’t fully pass through it, and it couldn’t transform its glowing green eyes. The closer the dragon got, the more clearly Orphen could see those things. He readied himself as those floating green eyes approached.
The moment he was about to thrust out his fist, the transparent Red Dragon showed itself once more. And it shriveled and sunk down.
It’s splitting in two again! Orphen clicked his tongue as his enemy crumbled before him. He focused everything he had into sensing his adversary. But before he could find it...
Wham! He was struck, but not directly.
The impact seemed to come from the ground. He turned around and the Red Dragon, who must have come up from the ground underneath him, was frozen, split in half.
Pluto’s enormous warhammer had scraped off about a third of the Red Dragon’s body, embedding it in the ground. That must have been the impact he’d felt.
When he’d leaped, he must have gotten closer to the Demon’s position. Of course, damage like this didn’t mean anything to a Red Dragon—it quickly crept out from under the warhammer and began to transform back into human shape.
But this time, Orphen’s chanting beat it.
“I construct thee, Spire of the Sun!” A fireball with an extremely narrowed range enveloped the Red Dragon’s form.
Incinerated in an instant, the dragon collapsed into a lump of charcoal. Even this wouldn’t kill a Red Dragon, but burning its surface would prevent it from transforming. This was the quickest way to take away its ability to fight.
Orphen rubbed his chin, finally able to catch his breath.
Shouldering his warhammer, Pluto asked him, “You get a little distracted when you fire off so many spells in quick succession, don’t you? Getting exhausted?” His tone was somewhere between a strict teacher listing his mistakes and simply concerned.
Orphen nodded wearily. He sat down with a weight that affirmed Pluto’s words. “Even if they’re not trying to kill us, when they come at us every day like this...”
“Looks like it’s calmed down for now,” Pluto said neutrally, glancing around the area.
Orphen looked at the Thirteen Apostles nearby as well. Those who still had the strength to fight were grouped around the injured, protecting them. Orphen was one of them. But compared to yesterday and the day before that...they were gradually running out of those who could fight.
The Thirteen Apostles hadn’t suffered any casualties since Leki had joined them, but day by day there were more and more of those whose injuries would require time to heal or those who had simply lost the will to fight.
Eyeing Leki, who sat in the middle of the wounded to protect them, Orphen muttered, “The enemy is avoiding fighting with Leki, focusing on wearing down the humans.”
“I agree.” Pluto had naturally noticed this as well. “I have to admit it’s effective, considering we can’t leave this spot.”
“But the sanctuary’s losing even more fighting power than we are,” Orphen said, indicating the immobilized, smoldering Red Dragon.
Pluto disagreed verbally, not shaking his head—he was probably trying not to make any negative gestures in view of his subordinates. “It’s been five days since we were stopped by that spirit sorcery barrier. Our morale is nearly at its limit. The next time we take a casualty, that might be it.”
“...That’s awfully pessimistic of you. Did something happen?” Orphen asked, curious.
The Demon of the Capital just gave him a wry grin. “No, I’m just being objective. That’s all.” He left.
Orphen groaned, still sitting. Our limit, huh? He’s right...
When he returned to the rest of them, that reality was plain to see.
The sorcerers were visibly exhausted. Physically and mentally. When Pluto had mentioned their limit, he was speaking quite literally.
They had been stuck here for five days now. In that time, they’d been attacked again and again, more and more of them getting injured each time.
The Thirteen Apostles were not novices when it came to combat. Palace sorcerers were treated the same way knights were; they were first-rate sorcerers who worked directly for the Union of Lords. They had plenty of unofficial missions they went on. Orphen thought to himself as he recalled the face of the Sorcerous Stabber he’d encountered on his way to the Imminent Domain, Seek Marrisk. The court sorcerers here were all doubtless first-class casters, far more powerful than Orphen, who’d abandoned his training at the meager age of fifteen. They should have all far surpassed him in combat skills, morale, willpower, and every other area.
But they’re still not enough when we’re up against dragons...
That being said, it wasn’t as though they’d started out at their full capacity, but these last few days had stretched their wills to the breaking point.
The black sorcerers didn’t even talk, merely sitting in gloomy silence as the wind blew around them. No one so much as raised their head when Orphen passed by. Orphen suddenly found himself remembering Lottecia. Something about the despair the Thirteen Apostles were all beholden to brought to mind her dark eyes.
Come to think of it, the lord was about to tell me something about her after she left. I should see what he was going to say...
He looked around. He couldn’t see the lord among the gathered sorcerers. But instead of him...
“Haaa ha ha ha! You look like you’re so tired you’re about to die, black sorcerer!” A familiar voice—no.
Orphen sighed and muttered, “Wow, that takes me back...”
He slowly turned around. Actually, he was about to pass by without taking notice, but the dwarf brothers were standing there—Volkan and Dortin.
Volkan’s voice rang out, especially loud among the silence of the area. “Ha ha ha! A brief moment of peace is but brief! What awaits you is unending terror and pain! Writing/Script: Me. Sponsored by: Me. It’s all your fault for letting your guard down around me, so dwaaah!”