Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree

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But more magma giants broke through the firepower net and rushed to the frontline of the Slave Creature Legion.

The heavy armored units raised their shields.

The first row of heavy armored units planted their shields into the ground, using their bodies to brace against them.

The second row of heavy armored units rested their spears on the shoulders of the first row, spear tips aimed at the charging magma giants.

The magma giants collided with the shield wall with deafening impact, pushing the first row of heavy armored units back several steps, shields deformed, some shattered.

But the second row’s spears pierced the magma giants’ bodies, dark red blood gushing out, and several magma giants let out agonizing roars.

More magma giants slammed into the shield wall, causing it to waver.

A multi-armed female raised two arms and slammed them down fiercely.

The casting units in the rear opened fire. Five thousand casting units simultaneously unleashed magic, various colors of light converging on their magic wands or arms, transforming into a destructive torrent that struck the array of magma giants.

Frost, thunder, poison mist, corrosion—all types of magic interwove, enveloping those massive magma giants.

Frost caused their bodies to crack, thunder slowed their movements, poison mist and corrosion caused their skin to wither extensively.

The frontline magma giants began to fall in swathes.

The Flame Priests of the Molten Spirit commenced a second round of casting, doubling the density of fire rain, fireballs larger and with higher temperatures.

Heavy armored units’ shields began to turn red, deforming, some melting into dripping molten iron.

Ranged units suffered casualties, some directly hit by fireballs, instantly incinerated; others struck by fragments, bleeding profusely.

The multi-armed female adjusted tactics, heavy armored units began swapping out, frontline withdrawing for rest and replenishment, while reserve heavy armored units moved up.

Casting units’ fire turned towards the Flame Priests of the Molten Spirit, disrupting their casting, interrupting the rhythm of the fire rain.

Mobile units grappled with magma hounds on the wings, suffering heavy casualties but holding the flanks.

The pace of the battle was swift, with every second claiming lives—slave creatures, molten spirits, severed limbs, blood, fire, screams.

...

The Molten Spirit’s charge had lasted nearly two hours.

Magma giants had lost more than half, Flame Warriors suffered nearly thirty percent casualties, magma hounds entangled by mobile units, unable to escape.

Flame Priests’ magic power excessively consumed, the density of fire rain began to drop.

The Slave Creature Legion also faced heavy losses, heavy armored units lost nearly a thousand, ranged units lost nearly two thousand, mobile units lost nearly fifteen hundred, casting units suffered smaller losses, under five hundred.

Duke stood atop the tower, shifting his gaze from his own line of responsibility to more distant areas.

The line they were on was just a small section of the entire 235th Legion’s frontal defense.

From the tower top, one could see, on the ash-gray volcanic ground, the Slave Creature Legion’s formation resembling a gray-black embankment, stretching from the far left of the view to the far right.

Every few miles there was a stone tower, each tower with a Wizard standing atop, each Wizard like him, monitoring their assigned portion of the front line.

The front stretched dozens of miles, with forty stone towers dividing the entire defense into multiple zones, Duke’s zone being just one of them.

Rex was atop the third-tier stone building at the command post, the highest commander of the entire legion.

The legion’s dedicated communication Witch Array was connected to every stone tower, the Wizards’ intelligence would be relayed in real time back to the command post, and Rex’s decisions would be issued to each zone in real time.

After several hours, the Molten Spirit’s charge temporarily retreated, both sides tacitly seized this moment to start resting.

The resting period was very brief, ceasing hostilities for less than an hour before war resumed, by which time it was already nearing dusk.

The sky remained gray, the dark red halo not fading, just dimmed a bit. The brightness of magic explosions in the darkness was even more dazzling, illuminating the battlefield with flickering light.

The battle continued into the night.

The Slave Creature Legion’s casualty figures were steadily rising, heavy armored units had lost nearly half, ranged units lost nearly thirty percent, mobile units suffered the heaviest casualties, with fewer than fifteen hundred of four thousand mobile units still able to fight.

Casting units’ energy almost depleted, crystal stones dim and lifeless, the frequency and power of spell release greatly reduced.

The Molten Spirit’s army was not faring any better.

The magma giants were mostly dead, Flame Warriors lost over half, magma hounds nearly wiped out by mobile units, leaving only the Flame Priests maintaining relatively intact formations, continuously casting from the rear, bombing the Slave Creature Legion’s position.

Both sides were exhausting resources, awaiting the other to falter, waiting for their own reinforcements to arrive first.

But Wizards were not afraid of depletion, these Level 1 or less Slave Creatures were cheap for them, infinitely replenishable.

Not so for the Molten Spirit, every fallen spirit was one of their kin.

At this time, five Level 2 Molten Spirits burst from their lines.

They were not ordinary units, they were elite, larger than standard Flame Warriors, over three meters, with bodies covered in dark golden scale armor, the gaps flowing not normal magma, but dark golden flames.

They were faster, stronger, with greater spell damage potential, ordinary Slave Creatures simply no match for them.

Duke’s gaze locked on those five Level 2 Peak Molten Spirits.

The female multi-armed race at the forefront also noticed these five breakers, dispatching her Level 2 units to intercept, but lacking in numbers and strength.

Duke and others’ Slave Creature Legion was relatively ordinary in strength, overall quality being inferior, merely filling the defensive gap in this part of the line, their main force wasn’t here.

Duke and the others didn’t act rashly, instead first reporting the situation up.

Rex quickly issued orders, allowing Duke and his team to engage these Level 2 Peak Molten Spirits.

Leon was the first to rush out from below the tower, armor reflecting a cold, silver-white luster in the dark battlefield.

His body began to glow, it was the light of Holy Silver Fighting Spirit, silver-white qi pouring from his body, forming into an enormous phantom around him, Holy Silver Battle Body.

The phantom stood tens of meters tall, resembling him greatly, silver-white eyes overlooking the battlefield’s ants.

Leon stood within the phantom, eyes fully silver-white, pupils burning with light sourced from the phantom.

On the left flank, two Level 2 Peak Molten Spirits were slaughtering within the Slave Creature Legion’s lines.

One had a massive body, over four meters, arms ending in not hands but two blades burning with dark golden flames; the other with slender frame, moving extremely fast, weaving among Slave Creatures, each flicker claiming lives.

Leon lunged at the large one, the Holy Silver phantom’s fist struck its chest, shattering the dark golden scale armor, dark red blood gushing out.

The Molten Spirit roared furiously, arms’ blades crossed and slashed at the phantom’s neck, the phantom’s arms crossed to block, blades smashed into the phantom’s forearms, silver-white and dark golden lights exploded, shockwave blowing nearby Slave Creatures away.

Leon did not retreat but advanced, the Holy Silver phantom’s knee slammed into the Molten Spirit’s abdomen, bending it over, phantom’s fists clamping together, pummeling the back of its head, shattering half its skull, dark red blood and brain pulp splattering.

Meanwhile, Morris took action.

He did not engage in melee like Leon, merely raising his right hand, his body emitted an aura of death.

The dead Slave Creatures, Molten Spirits, severed limbs and remnants began to stir, bodies trembling, eyes of the deceased reopened.

This was necromancy.

Their souls were forcibly dragged back into their long-dead shells, Slave Creatures’ corpses rose from the ground, picking up weapons, rushing at their former foes.

Molten Spirits’ corpses rose from the ground, bodies veiled by a gray-white aura of death, pursuing their former comrades.

Seeing this, Duke couldn’t help but think, Morris was probably the most suited for the battlefield, capable of becoming a necromantic catastrophe all by himself.

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