There was so much energy within the three stones that it would be enough to fuel ten ‘Snow Tears’. All that energy exploded when Hadjar forced his own energy into them with his attack. The shell of the artifacts crumbled to dust. Three multicolored wisps of light swirled in the air. Their power of absorption was so great that it tore the ice from the walls and split the stones in half. Gray ribbons of stone dust reached out toward the three spheres and swirled around them, disappearing somewhere in their center.
Einen was thrown out of the shadows. Landing next to Shakh, following Hadjar’s example, he thrust his spear into the floor and shielded the unconscious Shakh. As for the witches and the sorcerer, Einen had tied them to a pillar before he’d removed the stones from their staffs and book.
“Pathetic cowards!” Ragar growled. The epicenter of the energy explosion was directly over his head. While the two of them were struggling to resist the strong pull, he was fighting it... “I am Ragar Snow Wolf, and I won’t die to this wretched trick! I’ll make your deaths so awful that the ancestors who meet you will cry bloody tears at your agony!”
The wolf spirit behind Ragar flared so brightly that it blotted out the light from the explosion. Dozens of ice fists and hands slammed into the three spheres. They gradually got covered in a layer of ice. Ragar snarled and unleashed one attack after another. The giant of a man looked like a fisherman trying to overcome all the fury of a devastating storm using just a schooner.
For a fraction of a second, Ragar managed to do it: all three spheres were covered in a layer of ice. The northerner smiled triumphantly. His armor was in tatters. The rings of his chainmail dug into his skin. Blood trickled down his face and arms, and his skin and flesh were peeling away, exposing his bones. As he turned to face his stunned foes, there was a crash behind him.
The explosion was so powerful that the blast wave easily obliterated Ragar. The others, who were a good ten yards away from the epicenter, were nailed to the floor. Deep cracks ran along the whole floor. The ceiling trembled and huge stones fell from it. The columns cracked. The paper and ancient scrolls turned to dust.
Through the swirling whirlwinds of energy and power that had wrought terrible destruction, Hadjar saw another stone fall from the ceiling.
Well, he’d done this sort of thing once before… Except three magical artifacts hadn’t blown up in the process and he hadn’t killed someone as mighty as a Spirit Knight.
***
When Tilis opened her eyes, she couldn’t understand where she was. The last thing she’d seen was the library of Mage City and the enraged Spirit Knight. Now she was in the middle of some cave. If it hadn’t been for the distant corridors, shelves, and the remnants of the columns, she would’ve thought that she’d been transported somewhere else.
Drip. Drip.
Drops of something landed on her cheeks. Tilis looked up and saw Hadjar. He was standing over her, and on his shoulders lay a huge fragment of the ceiling. Its sharp edges had pierced through Hadjar’s shoulders and chest. Warm, dark blood ran down his battered head. He refused to pass out and let the stone fall on her.
Guided by instinct, Tilis rolled aside, startled. Hadjar dropped his burden and collapsed into a pool of his own blood.
Chapter 411
Einen was the first to reach Hadjar. He gently turned his friend over onto his back, held his lips open, uncorked a bottle of potion with his teeth, and then poured the liquid down his throat. Hadjar coughed, trying to spit out the foul concoction, but the islander held his nose and mouth tightly shut, forcing Hadjar to swallow.
His wounds started healing. His body burned so hard that tears flowed from his eyes, despite the fact that Hadjar had both a strong body and an iron will. However, the pain was so sharp that he wanted to howl and bite his own hands to somehow drown it out.
“Endure, barbarian,” Einen whispered, keeping his friend from trying to hurt himself. “It’s an extract made from a sea devil’s blood. It’ll help.”
After just two minutes, which felt like an eternity to Hadjar, all that remained of his wounds were horrible, jagged scars. It was as if no one had ever treated him or tried to sow the wounds closed, leaving his body to deal with the problem by itself.
However, a few extra ugly scars on his torso didn’t bother Hadjar at all. It was already hard enough to find spots on his body where there were no scars. He even had a few on his face, but they looked like almost imperceptible, white stripes.
“Thank… you…” Hadjar said numbly.
He looked around. The library looked awful: the explosion had destroyed the entire hall, ruining thousands of ancient books and scrolls. There was a huge, smooth crater in the floor. Along the walls, or rather what was left of them, were hemispherical recesses, which formed a smooth ball when combined.
Nothing remained of Ragar’s body. Even his armor and gauntlets hadn’t survived the blast of energy, even though they’d been much tougher than the Spirit Knight’s body. Hadjar doubted that even Traves would have walked away from such a catastrophe unscathed.
Einen didn’t waste time. He had left Shakh leaning against the wall farthest from the explosion. He was unconscious, but breathing steadily. There were wounds on his chest and arms, but they weren’t deep. Karissa and Ramukhan, also unconscious, lay beside him. They almost appeared to be unscathed. Except for extreme exhaustion, they hadn’t even taken much damage. Shakh coughed suddenly, and his body shook.
“Are you okay?” Einen asked.
Hadjar nodded.
“Go help the boy.”
“He isn’t a boy anymore.” The islander smiled.
Putting Hadjar back down on the cold stone still covered in ice, Einen went over to Shakh. The islander had also been injured, but he was the only one who could stand on his own, without any help. In addition, after breaking through and becoming a Wielder of the Spear, he’d received a fairly substantial increase in his energy reserves. Since he’d only used three Techniques during the battle, he was now the only combat-ready member of the squad.
“Why did you save me, northerner?” Tilis suddenly asked.
Hadjar turned his head. Tilis sat on the rocks by his side. She was nervously twirling her staff, probably anxious about the fact they’d torn off the magic artifact at its top to defeat Ragar. It probably wouldn’t stop her from casting magic, but it would most likely greatly affect the outcome.
“Your sister asked me to,” Hadjar said with a pained smile. “I don’t think I can be called a northerner anymore.”
Tilis shuddered and looked away. Hadjar understood her perfectly. He too had once been a little frog, sitting in its well and believing that that was the whole world. Even though Tilis personally knew the Sage of Underworld City, who was at the Lord level, she’d never fought him. They had only sparred. It was difficult to grasp the full power of the monster standing in front of you when they’re holding back.
Ragar had shaken Tilis’ confidence in her abilities. It was a kind of spiritual wound that could put an end to one’s path of cultivation. Only a person with an indomitable will could reach the dizzying heights of true mastery. Any doubts, any hesitation, even the smallest bit, could lead to failure.
“You know,” she said dryly, her fingers still toying with the staff, “I came up with the oath because I thought you and Einen would betray us.”