Book 7 - Fleeting Glory Chapter 100

Fireball? Fireball!

Managing to regain his breath, Gangdor pushed away the soldiers who were supporting him and propped himself up with his axe, forcefully cracking his neck before shouting, "Ignore them, boss! The barrier is strong, but I'm sure it takes a lot of energy. I don't think they can hole themselves up in there for long; as long as we encircle the place, it'll fade out."

The brute was right; a domain of such power was rare even in Norland. It just covered too much; considering Faelor's level in magic, lasting a few days would be an amazing achievement that would take all of the resources of the Empire.

By this time, the rest of Richard's followers had gathered up. All of the spellcasters started trying to analyse the barrier, with even the exhausted Asiris and Tiramisu making attempts. Meanwhile, the Medium Rare head turned to Richard, "Should I try, Boss?"

The ogre lord was still a little dizzy, the tip of his horn sparkling with an abnormal golden glow. The head-on collision with Godfrey had left him injured, and even the popes of the three goddesses couldn't instantly heal the damage from a legend. The ogre had even insisted on returning to the battlefield early, adding more injuries on top of his existing once. When his meagre mana pool ran out, he relied on his thick skin and regeneration to destroy his opponents in physical combat.

Nasia stepped forward as well, "I can assist with this flimsy thing, but there will be a price to pay. An intermediate offering, what do you say?"

Richard waved the ogre back, ignoring Nasia's exorbitant demands as well while stepping to the front, "You people forget I'm a mage."

This statement caused different responses amongst his followers. Those who hadn't been with him during his early years dismissed him; they were more used to him cutting people up with a sword. Even those who knew him best were a little sceptical; the two main paths to dealing with this thing were to either figure out how it functioned or to use an attack that overwhelmed the barrier's limits. While the former was plausible, he was implying the latter with his actions.

Sure enough, he started a chant for a spell. Everyone's curiosity was piqued; the two most important things about his spellcasting was that his offensive might was boosted manifold and he finished them in a fraction of the time. Everyone had already seen him cast grade 7 spells without even a chant, but now his voice rang out for a long time.

The mages present quickly recognised the first section of the chant as for a fireball, and many could cast the spell without even a single syllable. Did a mere grade 3 spell need so much chanting, even if it was upgraded?

A ball of fire did appear between Richard's hands, looking the same as any other. However, he clearly wasn't done with it yet as he continued on, only a handful even able to vaguely make out the runic words he was starting to use. Many priests started understanding more than the mages; he had slowly switched to divine tongue.

Divine languages were a strange thing. Theoretically, every plane and pantheon had its own unique tongue, but knowledge of one generally translated to at least a decent understanding of the rest. Perhaps because divine language was influenced by the underlying laws, even most regular priests could feel the reaction of the world to the words and make out what was being said. Even those on the side of the Empire could understand 70-80% of the individual syllables, but they had no idea how those words mixed together to affect the whole.

...

A pair of sub-legends appeared on the castle ramparts, happily chatting away with no worries about their impending doom. Their voices were spirited, ringing across the entire kilometre in Richard's ears. It was clear that they were speaking with purpose.

"That fellow is the Crimson Duke, isn't he?"

"I heard he's a grand mage?"

"Yep, a grand mage that can't even conjure fireballs instantly! Hahaha!"

"Does he really plan to break down our divine barrier with fireballs? How many does he want to try? Ten? Twenty?"

An older mage walked to the front amongst the two, looking outside and saying calmly, "Perhaps he plans to cast a very special type of fireball. But no matter; the barrier will resist it all. He won't get to us unless he's willing to fill the entire plaza with the bodies of many soldiers."

...

The old Emperor was on the balcony of the castle's keep, looking at the distant plaza. From this distance, he could barely make out anything.

Standing at attention nearby, a royal mage reassured him, "You do not need to worry, Your Majesty. Unless the core energy of the mountains is consumed entirely, this shield cannot be broken; at the very least, no number of fireballs will accomplish the task... Hmm... If the Duke gets impatient, we might even be able to recoup some of our losses."

The Emperor didn't know much about magic, but he was still a smart man. He shook his head with suspicion, "Would a fireball chant really go on that long?"

"Of course not, even grade 9 spells don't take that much... Wait!" the mage suddenly panicked, finally remembering that the Crimson Duke was the disciple of a legendary mage. A spell that needed so much time to prepare would definitely be unbelievably powerful, perhaps even reaching the fabled legendary realm! He immediately cast a scrying spell, bringing up a screen of water that zoomed in on the situation in the plaza.

...

The fireball between Richard's hands hadn't even gotten a metre wide, but Richard didn't seem even close to done. Very few people could even understand his words anymore, the chant now almost exclusively in divine tongue. It took minutes for the fireball to finally start growing, approaching more than two metres in diameter.

The incantation slowly turned more bleak, rustic, and lofty, a strange aura permeating the city as though a powerful force from the abyss had locked its eye upon Faelor. Everyone nearby was affected, growing solemn and stern; even Mountainsea had woken up from her sleep on Tiramisu's back.

Starlight started pouring into the raging flames, power coming straight from the well of stars. The fireball quickly turned similar to the thunderclouds, absorbing all the latent energy nearby, but instead of expanding it grew denser and denser. With the blue moon's energy finally inserted, the core started sparking with blue light as the liquid flames expanded to cover the interior.

The royal mage beside the Emperor was now starting to shiver in fear, the old man himself full of despair as he stared at the screen of water. The sub-legends atop the walls turned deathly pale, no longer able to speak, while the grand mage looked up to the sky and began a chant under his breath.

As he approached the end, Richard switched to an entirely foreign divine language that nobody present could understand. However, every word that rang out drilled confusion and icy despair into the hearts of its listeners. Nasia herself was now staring at Richard without even blinking, her mouth hanging open a little.

In a random room within the imperial palace, a withering old man's eyes suddenly shot wide open, "The tongue of primal chaos! This is what my Lord demonstrated to his most loyal servant, who has the power to wield it? This is not... AH!"

As the man started screaming, the strange fireball had left Richard's hands and was silently flying towards the palace. It wasn't particularly quick, but it didn't take too long to enter the domain of the barrier either. The fireball caused the light to ripple all around, continuing on unaffected as it slammed into the castle gates.

The world was suddenly overcome by blue and white, only saints able to see even the slightest amidst the bright light. The fireball quickly turned from blue to red, forming a pillar of flames that was a full hundred metres across. The barrier shook violently before shattering into a million fragments, but the flames continued to engulf everything within range.

Be it the old Emperor on the balcony or Richard's own followers, everyone froze up in shock as they watched the majestic castle of the Frozen Throne get shaved away by a third in moments. The gates disappeared completely, the five sub-legends stationed on the walls having been disintegrated. The entire world stood still.