Chapter 42: Mana surge
The battle erupted in all directions like a hurricane of steel and magic.
Korreth’s war cry echoed across the crystalline platform as he carved through human soldiers with the skilled brutality of a seasoned commander. His enchanted blade left trails of silver light in its wake, each swing severing both flesh and the energy fields of the invaders’ armor.
Behind him, his twin sons fought with the relentless fury of young lions protecting their pride—their movements perfectly synchronized, born from years of training together under their father’s unforgiving tutelage.
But the humans kept coming.
Sigora moved through the chaos like a brown-haired wraith, her hands glowing with protective magic as she shepherded the non-combatants toward the inner sanctums. Her voice cut through the din of battle, commanding and reassuring in equal measure as she guided families with children and elderly elves away from the worst of the fighting.
Energy blasts erupted around her, scorching the ancient crystal formations and leaving smoking craters on the ground.
It was then that a sleek, predatory vessel descended from the main fleet—smaller than the massive dreadnought but radiating menace like a coiled serpent.
The ship’s hull bore the golden insignia of the Holy Empire, and as it settled onto the platform with mechanical precision, Jorghan felt his blood turn to ice.
Vice Lord Radulff stepped from the vessel’s boarding ramp with the casual confidence of a man attending a social gathering rather than a battlefield. His pristine uniform was unmarked by the chaos around them, and his smile held the cold satisfaction of a hunter who had finally cornered his prey.
Behind him came Yvonne, her expression twisted with barely contained rage and humiliation.
The memory of being embarrassed by a child in front of her soldiers burned in her eyes like acid, and her hand rested eagerly on the hilt of her sword.
"Well, well," Radulff called out, his voice carrying easily over the sounds of battle.
"The little prince himself, come to watch his people burn."
Jorghan stepped forward, placing himself between the humans and Swana and Sik’ra, who had moved to flank him with weapons ready.
The older siblings were seasoned warriors in their own right—Swana’s blade sang with accumulated mana, while Sik’ra’s bow hummed with the promise of death.
"How delightful," Radulff continued, rolling his shoulders as magical energy began to coalesce around his fists.
"I was so hoping we’d have another chance to dance, boy. Your little tantrum this morning was... intriguing." He was grinning, taking in the satisfaction of teasing Yvonne.
Yvonne’s patience snapped like a bowstring. "Enough talking!" she snarled, drawing her sword and lunging toward Swana with vicious intent.
The elf maiden met her charge head-on, her blade intercepting Yvonne’s strike with a shower of sparks.
The two women spun apart and immediately engaged again, their weapons weaving patterns of light and shadow as they sought each other’s destruction.
Swana’s elegant form was beautiful yet lethal. Her every moment was intended to cut her enemies down, her blade never leaving the attack range.
Meanwhile, Sik’ra had already nocked an arrow and sent it whistling toward one of the mechanical soldiers that poured from Radulff’s ship.
The enchanted projectile punched through the automaton’s energy shield and buried itself in its core processor, dropping the construct in a shower of sparks.
He moved with agile grace, each shot finding its mark with lethal precision—energy cores, joint servos, optical sensors.
Within moments, half a dozen of the advanced mana droids lay twitching in mechanical death throes.
Although it was a strange thing to see, the elves didn’t have time to stand and wonder about the type of things the humans brought to destroy them.
It was all about survival, and they only fought for it, desperately.
But Jorghan’s attention was entirely focused on Radulff, who was advancing with the deadly patience of a master killer.
"Tell me, boy," the Vice Lord mused, mana crackling around his knuckles like caged lightning, "what happens when a kid tries to fight a true warrior?"
[Warning: Host mana channels remain artificially restricted.]
[Physical enhancement protocols: ACTIVE]
[Host combat rating: 8-Star Sorcerer equivalent]
[Enemy assessment: 9-Star Mage-Warrior]
The system assessed Radulff’s power level, and even if he was a levelhigher, Jorghan wasn’t backing down; his bloodline powers would make up for the level gap.
Jorghan said nothing.
He simply raised his fists; his small fists were like nothing compared to Radulff.
Radulff’s grin widened, revealing teeth like polished ivory.
"Excellent."
The Vice Lord launched himself forward with explosive force, his magically enhanced punch cutting through the air with a sound like tearing fabric.
Jorghan twisted aside at the last possible moment, feeling the wind of the blow ruffle his hair as destructive energy crackled past his ear.
He countered immediately, driving his own fist toward Radulff’s exposed ribs.
But the older man was ready—he caught Jorghan’s wrist and spun, using the boy’s momentum to hurl him across the platform.
Jorghan hit the ground and rolled, coming up in a crouch as Radulff’s next attack shattered the crystal where he’d been standing. Shards of razor-sharp stones exploded outward like shrapnel, forcing nearby combatants to dive for cover.
"Too slow!" Radulff laughed, his fists now wreathed in crackling energy that made the air itself recoil.
"You’re fighting like a child playing at war!"
Jorghan’s eyes narrowed, tilting his head. "I am a child, you fucking idiot."
"Ah, right, I forgot. Looking at you, nobody would think that you are just a child." Radulff looked dumb, as though he was acting like it.
"And you are quite a rude one at that." He made a hurtful expression.
[Mana at 88%]
Jorghan’s mana might be sealed, but his body had been forged by years of training under Sigora’s relentless tutelage. He might lack magical projection, but his physical enhancement was still formidable.
He moved.
One moment he was fifteen feet away; the next he was inside Radulff’s guard, his fist driving toward the man’s solar plexus with bone-crushing force. He used his little frame to his advantage and moved faster, like a blur.
The Vice Lord barely managed to block, energy shields flaring as the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward.
"Better!" Radulff admitted it, but his next strike came faster than humanly possible.
Magical acceleration turned his limbs into blurs of destruction, each punch carrying enough force to pulverize stone.
Jorghan gave ground, weaving between the attacks with desperate precision. His smaller frame became an advantage here—where Radulff’s enhanced strikes could level buildings, Jorghan’s compact form let him slip through gaps that would be impossible for a larger fighter.
He ducked under a haymaker that would have decapitated him, stepped inside a vicious uppercut, and landed three rapid strikes to Radulff’s midsection.
Each impact created thunderous booms that echoed across the battlefield, the sound of enhanced flesh meeting magical barriers.
Radulff staggered back, genuine surprise flickering across his features.
"Impossible... your mana, it’s increasing. How are you—"
[Mana at 92%]