Belamus and Aled were locked in a fierce exchange of high-level magic, each spell clashing against the next in bursts of light and thunder.
“It’s been a while,” Aled remarked with a casual smile, as if they weren’t in the middle of a battle. “It’s rare these days to find someone who can match me spell for spell. Magic’s fallen quite far since… well, since that incident.”
Despite the ongoing duel, neither of them had gone all out yet. There was still a level of restraint in their movements, a quiet, measured assessment of strength.
That incident. Whatever had caused the decline of magic, Aled clearly knew more than he let on. Belamus felt a twinge of curiosity, a desire to ask, but now wasn’t the time. He pushed the thought aside.
Aled fought primarily with earth-based magic, just as he had in the era of their past lives. Whether it was a coincidence that Lazalit’s body, a vessel Aled had now possessed, also excelled at earth magic, or if the possessor’s affinity overrode the host’s, was still unclear.
“Let’s turn things up a bit, shall we?” Aled’s voice dropped into a more serious tone. “Black Golem.”
He summoned them with ease, towering magical constructs, self-moving earth elementals crafted from spell-forged stone. Black Golems were among the most powerful of their kind, requiring not only immense magical energy but intricate control and precision to create.
Each one stood nearly three meters tall, their bodies pitch-black, dense, and heavy, as if obsidian had come to life. Aled conjured three of them in a row and didn’t so much as break a sweat.
His magic power reserves are monstrous, Belamus thought grimly. In terms of raw magical power alone, he may even surpass me.
Fortunately, magic battles weren’t decided by magical power alone.
The destructive force of a spell came from how much magical power one could channel into it, yes, but spellcasting speed mattered just as much. The faster one could shape the image and speak the incantation, the faster the spell took form. And then there was knowledge.
To counter an opponent’s spell effectively, a mage needed to know exactly which one to cast in response. And the broader their arsenal, the more options they had in the heat of combat.
That was why Belamus had once been called the Great Sage. In his past life, it wasn’t just his vast magical repertoire that had earned him the title; it was the depth of his knowledge, the way he could adapt and outthink his foes in any situation. He’d faced others before who had greater magical power reserves or faster casting speeds. They had been formidable, no question, but Belamus had overcome them all, not through brute strength, but through mastery.
Black Golems are powerful, yes, but they’re not without their flaws. And once you know how they work, breaking them isn’t all that difficult.
Every golem had a core, a magical nucleus that served as its heart. Destroy that, and the entire construct would collapse. Simple in theory. In practice, not so much. The core was buried deep within layers of rock, and in the case of Black Golems, that rock was magically reinforced to the point of absurdity. Hardened to its absolute limit through multiple enchantments, it was nearly impossible to shatter by brute force.
If brute force won’t work… there’s always another way.
All three Black Golems lunged at Belamus in perfect unison, massive arms swinging down like hammers. He knew a magical barrier wouldn’t hold up, not against this level of concentrated force. Instead, he activated a spell to enhance his physical abilities and slipped through the hammers’ onslaught with fluid precision.
“Magic Search,” Belamus murmured, his voice low and focused.
His eyes lit up with a sudden, radiant glow. The spell allowed him to see the magical structure of the golems—every layer, every enchantment woven into their stony frames.
Four enchantments, all stacked together: one to resist physical damage; one to deflect magic; one to lighten the rock and make it faster; and one to grant regenerative healing when damaged.
“Release Dispel,” Belamus uttered the command with quiet authority. It was a simple incantation, but devastating in effect. Belamus began stripping the magic from the golems, unraveling their spells one by one. Most mages couldn’t dispel what they didn’t understand, but Belamus? He understood everything.
Even as the golems attacked, he moved with sharp precision, dodging effortlessly while dismantling their enchantments. First, the magical resistance fell, then the regeneration. With their protections stripped away, they were no longer formidable constructs, just animated slabs of enchanted rock.
Belamus raised his hand. “Shining Lance.”
A beam of searing light burst forth, piercing the exposed core of the closest golem with pinpoint accuracy. The spell wouldn’t have even registered against the original defenses, but now, with everything peeled away, it struck true.
The golem shuddered. Then collapsed, motionless. Its core shattered, its magic snuffed out.
One down.
The others fell in short order, disabled with the same ruthless efficiency.
From a safe distance, Aled watched the display with an unreadable smile.
“Well, well. That’s my master for you. I pour all that magical power into my Black Golems, and you dismantle them like it’s nothing. Truly, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of your spells.”
His tone was light, amused. Not a trace of frustration or panic, despite the high-level magic he’d just seen destroyed. Even with the heavy magical power cost of summoning those golems, Aled still looked as calm and composed as ever.
Belamus had always known Aled wasn’t the type to show emotion easily, but even so, he’d expected at least a flicker of unease after losing the Black Golems. Aled’s steady calm unsettled him more than any spell could.
He should be rattled. At least a little. So why isn’t he?
Aled answered the question before Belamus could dwell on it.
“Perhaps it’s time I used my trump card,” he said smoothly, his voice almost amused. “You’re not the kind of opponent I can afford to hold back against.”
He reached into his cloak and pulled out five small stones, each one pulsing faintly with an eerie inner glow.
Magicite.
Even at a glance, Belamus could tell they were high-grade. Refined. Potent. And disturbingly familiar.
“I spent a long time experimenting,” Aled continued, almost wistful. “Trying to determine how a dwarf must die to produce the highest-quality magicite. These… are the results of that research.”
Belamus’s expression darkened.
“You bastard.” Belamus’s voice dropped to a growl, quiet but laced with venom, his gaze fixed on Aled with a cold, simmering hatred that burned brighter than any spell.
He didn’t know the details; he didn’t need to. The implication was clear enough: at least five dwarves had died in agony for those stones. The method didn’t matter; whatever Aled had done, it had been monstrous. The kind of cruelty only a mind such as his could conceive.
Aled pressed the gemstones to his chest one by one, fusing them into his body.
For a brief time, absorbing high-grade magic power stones would significantly boost a mage’s power. And these weren’t just high-grade; they were perfected. With five embedded, that power boost could last for three full days.
In magical combat, magic power alone didn’t determine the victor. Strategy, knowledge, and speed still mattered. But when the difference in raw magical energy became this overwhelming, even the most refined technique began to falter. There was a point at which brute force simply bulldozed everything else.
Without hesitation, Aled raised his hand. Once again, he cast the Black Golem spell—but this time, the result was drastically different.
It wasn’t three golems.
It was thirty.
The ground trembled as they emerged, one after another, towering obsidian shadows rising like a slow, unstoppable tide. The sheer number was staggering. It was an army of living stone.
Belamus cursed inwardly.
Even if I know how to take them down… thirty at once is another matter entirely.
The dispelling magic he relied on consumed more magical power than it appeared to, and if he pushed it too far, he risked exhausting himself. That would be fatal. On top of that, each Black Golem hit like a siege weapon. Just one blow could be deadly.
This isn’t just bad, it’s critical.
For the first time in this battle, Belamus felt something rare gnawing at the edges of his calm.