Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!
Thousands of weapons rained down on Crestâs army, tearing through their orderly ranks and plunging the battlefield into chaos.
âAaaargh!ân/oÌ/vel/b//in dot c//om
âWhat the hell?!â
âMagic! The enemy is using magic!â
Soldiers screamed in confusion, their formations collapsing in an instant. No one had anticipatedâlet alone imaginedâan attack like this.
Terrified cries filled the battlefield as weapons moved with eerie precision, cutting down Crestâs soldiers. The commanding officers turned in panic, barking orders.
For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind struggling to process the sight. Then, snapping out of his shock, he shouted,
âMages! Didnât I order you to block all enemy magic?! What are you waiting for?! Stop that spell immediately!â
The mages, already drenched in sweat from their futile efforts, could only stammer.
âM-my lord... Itâs not magic.â
âWhat the hell are you saying?! If this isnât magic, then what is it?!â
âThat... thatâs...â
The mage couldnât finish his sentence. Even he didnât understand what he was witnessing. He knew magic, studied it for years, yet what he was seeing didnât follow the logic of any known spell.
What Ghislain had unleashed was something far beyond standard magical constructs. It was a pure, unfiltered application of martial energyâa technique that mages simply couldnât dispel.
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