Chapter 231: The Art of Calling for Backup
A sharp look entered Randall’s eyes. “You want to die!”
He wasted no more words.
Both his hands slammed forward. Green and silver light exploded together in a flashing tangle, instantly turning into dozens of incomparably sharp wind-and-lightning blades wrapped in leaping threads of electricity, descending on Ryan and the other two like a rainstorm.
The area of effect was so large that it even faintly covered Rex, who had only just rescued Lillian.
“Spread out! Rex, take Lillian back!”
Ryan barked the order in a low voice. Instead of retreating, he advanced, charging straight into that rain of wind-and-lightning blades.
He had no weapon, but his hands moved rapidly before him. With every sweep, a solid magical barrier rose in its wake—sometimes a briefly formed stone shield, sometimes a swirling cyclone that deflected force, sometimes a curtain of light that dissolved incoming energy.
At a dazzling speed, he switched between low-tier defensive spells of different attributes, intercepting, deflecting, and neutralizing most of the wind-and-lightning blades with astonishing precision.
A few still slipped through and grazed his body, leaving behind thin cuts, but the momentum of his charge did not slow in the slightest.
The instant Ryan rushed forward, Vera moved in perfect accord toward the flank.
Her fingers flicked again and again, sending out thread-thin yet highly condensed wind needles in total silence. They struck precisely at the weak nodes within the energy structure of the wind-and-lightning blades, helping to reduce the pressure on Ryan while also disrupting Randall’s casting rhythm.
Ilyss’s figure drifted across the edge of the battlefield like a wraith. Her violet eyes were fixed on Randall. Every so often, she would fire a swift lightning bolt or lay down a small patch of static-charged ground, forcing Randall to divide his attention to defend himself and interrupting the continuity of his spellcasting.
A trace of surprise appeared on Randall’s face.
He had clearly not expected that the three of them, who by all rights should already have been spent dry in his mind, would still be capable of fighting back.
That surprise quickly darkened into a gloomier expression.
He had not expected Ryan to retain such resilience and such a bizarre full-attribute defensive capacity after that brutal battle. Nor had he expected Vera and Ilyss to be so troublesome in coordination.
He gave a cold snort, and his attack pattern changed abruptly.
No longer seeking wide-area coverage, he instead compressed his wind-and-lightning Mana to the extreme. Bringing both hands together before his chest without fully closing them, he rapidly formed a fist-sized orb in which green and silver energies collided and rotated madly against one another, radiating a deeply unsettling aura of destruction.
“Wind and Lightning Roar!”
With a low shout, he hurled the orb straight at Ryan.
As it passed through the air, the atmosphere itself seemed to let out a strained wail, leaving behind a warped trail in its wake.
Ryan’s pupils contracted slightly.
The power of this strike far exceeded that of the earlier wind-and-lightning blades. Meeting it head-on would be profoundly unwise.
But not far behind him stood Rex, who had only just steadied himself and was checking Lillian’s injuries. Vera and Ilyss were on the flank, both of them already heavily drained of Mana.
There was nowhere to dodge.
In that split second, Ryan made his decision.
His hands moved at blinding speed before him as the vast Mana granted by the Seals of Enlightenment poured out in a frenzy, instantly constructing a three-layered composite defense before him.
The outermost layer was a rapidly spinning hurricane vortex, intended to deflect and weaken the orb’s impact.
The middle layer was made of thick, solid overlapping stone walls, prepared to endure the main force of the collision.
The innermost layer was a rippling curtain like a mirror of water, meant to refract and disperse any energy that pierced through.
And yet, at the very instant the Wind and Lightning Roar was about to crash into the first layer of defense, a conspiratorial grin curved Randall’s lips.
He did not look at the result of his full-powered strike at all.
Instead, he suddenly twisted around and shouted at the top of his lungs toward the space behind him:
“Parker! Vincent! Are you still sleeping?! The treasure is right in front of us! His Highness the Second Prince and His Highness the Third Prince are waiting for your achievements!!!”
His voice was filled with Mana, rolling into the space beyond the stone doorway like thunder and even stirring echoes through the passage.
Ryan’s face changed abruptly.
He finally understood the true purpose behind Randall’s earlier attacks, which had seemed so rash.
They had not just been meant to injure them.
They had also been meant to create enough noise and enough magical fluctuation to wake the people still trapped in the cocoon illusions.
Especially any among them who might be Randall’s allies.
Almost the moment Randall’s voice fell, there came a jumble of sounds—some weak, some furious, some greedy—along with the wet ripping noise of cocoons splitting apart.
Several figures staggered out through the breach in the library wall.
Most of them were smeared with slick, sticky spider-silk fluid. Their clothes were torn, their faces pale, and their eyes still held the confusion of people who had only just torn themselves free from a long illusion.
But that confusion was quickly replaced by greed, brutality, and the rage of those who had been deceived and forced into danger.
At the front was Parker.
This important member of the Second Prince’s faction had disheveled hair and a bloodied scratch across his face that had clearly been left by his own nails, proof that whatever he had suffered within the illusion had been far from pleasant.
He stared fixedly at Ryan. The eyes that were ordinarily at least somewhat handsome were now bloodshot and filled with unconcealed hatred.
In his hand he carried an ornate longsword marked with glowing ice-blue magical lines. Its tip hung slightly low, touching the ground.
“Ryan Velt...” Parker’s voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping over wood. “So it was you... making all that noise out here.”
A little behind him at one side stood Vincent, his face gloomy and his gaze flickering.
He stood slightly behind him, his face dark and unreadable, a short black wand in his hand with a dim, ghostly glow circling its tip. Without saying a word, he quietly assessed Ryan’s group, his gaze lingering in particular on Ryan’s bloodstained right hand and the enormous corpse of the Illusion Spider not far away.
Marcus and Olaf, the two northern men, followed close behind.
They were powerfully built, their upper bodies bare and covered in all manner of scars. Their eyes were savage, and the way they looked at Ryan and the others was the way one might look at prey.
Shiloya and Kallen appeared in succession as well. Shiloya’s face was pale, but a weak flame had already risen at the end of her staff. Kallen cautiously surveyed the surroundings, his gaze lingering for an extra moment on Vera.
Six against four.
And on Ryan’s side, every last one of them was injured, their Mana and stamina heavily depleted. Ryan’s own weapon had shattered outright.
By contrast, although Parker’s group had only just escaped the illusion and were hardly in peak condition, they had the advantage in numbers, and Randall’s cry of “the treasure is right in front of us” had thoroughly set their greed ablaze.
“Well, look who this is.” Parker took two steps forward. His gaze swept over Ryan’s torn sleeve and pale face before dropping to the pile of broken dagger fragments on the ground. A malicious smile spread across his mouth. “Saint Roland Academy’s famous genius. How did you end up in such a miserable state? Even the thing you use to make your living is broken?”
Deliberately, he nudged the metal fragments on the ground with the tip of his sword, producing a harsh scraping sound.
“Looks like the monsters in these ruins aren’t as obedient as the academy’s wooden dummies, are they? Or is it that...” He lifted his head, and his eyes turned cold. “This is all you’re really capable of? Without a weapon that suits your hand, you’re nothing but trash?”
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