Chapter 46: The Circle Array

In the forest outside the village, the chanting of spells echoed intermittently, occasionally startling some birds in flight.

Five crimson-robed mages formed a circle with a radius of ten feet. The tattoos on their foreheads emitted a strong radiance, converging into five slender beams of light focused on the tattooed forehead of the mage at the center of the circle. It seemed as if waves of arcane power were being channeled from the light into the tattoos, then into the body of the caster, gathering into an even greater magical force.

This was the signature skill of the Crimson Robe Mage Association, renowned throughout the magical realm of Ferren as the Circle Array.

Although the witches of Laiserman had inherited this technique from their ancestors, those who simultaneously studied divine arts clearly lacked the depth of mastery compared to their neighbors to the south.

In Sael, a mage must be at least of the fifth ring in spellcasting proficiency to preside over a circle. Those who can lead an array after in-depth study are granted the title of "Mentor of the Ring," akin to the professorship in a university. Penny's mentor, Johnshaw, held such a position.

Now, as the array's overseer guided a scroll, it soon turned to ashes. The sky dimmed, and in the distance, thunderous sounds reverberated. Beyond the circle, an abundance of light flickered, as if transforming into a chaotic entity.

As if invisibly morphing into a snowstorm, it surged forward like a white torrent towards the village embroiled in battle not far away. The ground trembled violently, as if a landslide had occurred on flat ground!

Indeed, it was a veritable avalanche. The moving wall of snow crashed against trees and buildings, leaving behind only a vast expanse of white.

Amidst the thick fog, the witches of Laiserman attempted to counteract the spell, hurling a plethora of counter-magic spells. However, faced with the vast magical power invoked by the circle array, the hastily responding witches were clearly powerless, swiftly engulfed by the vast waves of snow.

Boundless and mighty as a river, such is the grandeur of magic.

The five crimson-robed assistants to the circle array felt their foreheads burning and smoking. As the scroll burned to ashes, they collectively spewed blood, collapsing to the ground, retching uncontrollably.

Utilizing the circle array to enhance the activation of high-level magic scrolls was a technique developed by the Crimson Robe Mage Association in recent years. Despite its flaws, the practice of casting through an intermediary object imposed a severe toll on the energy of the casters. However, witnessing the successful guidance of the array and the magnificent catastrophic effect of the powerful magical storm filled the hearts of the crimson-robed mages with a cruel sense of pleasure.

"Excellent. This should be enough to give those witches a headache for a while," the mentor of the ring remarked with a smile. "Mushantir will also have more time to react. Now, get up, you bunch of incompetents. The witches will be coming soon, and we are no match for them."

Several crimson-robed figures shuddered at the realization that, despite the stunning effect achieved through the ambush with the circle array combined with a highly precious advanced magic scroll, this spell, though potent, might not claim the lives of the witches. In a while, those unfortunate witches would come flying over, and they would be in for a tough time.

The mentor of the circle array, with a spellcasting ability between the 5th and 6th rings, could be discerned by the style of his robe. The white trim on the collar and cuffs of his crimson robe indicated his status. If the trim were blue, it would signify a high-ranking mentor who had delved into the seventh ring of the magical web. These were two distinct concepts.

Such a mentor of the circle array might not necessarily possess spellcasting abilities superior to those of an Osloth-level witch with a lower ranking. Moreover, these Laiserman witches had also pursued the study of divine arts, a significant characteristic of the witch association. This enhanced their actual combat prowess. Even with three Osloth-level witches and an elder facing off against these five or six crimson-robed mages, the outcome of the battle remained uncertain. However, one thing was certain: it would consume a considerable amount of time. The mission of the crimson-robed mages here was stealth, not prolonged combat.

"Moda, do you have a means to track down that foreign wizard?" Several crimson-robed figures were using flight magic to evacuate the scene. The leading mentor of the circle array inquired of an assistant beside him. By closely examining the assistant's face, one could ascertain that he was one of the two crimson-robed mages who had escaped after the ambush at the lakeside the previous day. Upon hearing the mentor's question, he nodded and replied, "Yes, I scattered some Morphos moth phosphorus powder on the ground as I retreated. It's sure to cling to them. As long as we're within a two-mile radius, I can identify the fellow's location through my magical companion."

A fierce-looking dog head poked out from his sleeve, emitting a howl. This was a miniature hellhound, its smoke-snorting nose constantly sniffing, as if perpetually capturing the scents in the air.

With specialized training, such terrifying creatures could track any target that bore the scent or carried a special mark within a certain range.

"Excellent, Moda, you say, did that foreign sorcerer recognize the Silent Executioner?"

"Yes, indeed, he was very cautious at the time. I was on the periphery, and with the 'Eyes of the Roc Angel,' I saw it very clearly."

"Excellent. This type of drug has only been in use for two years, and it has only been included in textbooks for half a year. Yet, he was able to recognize it. Most likely, he's a spy sent by another faction. Our actions here absolutely must not be known by people from other factions. Even if he isn't, we'd rather kill the wrong person than let him go. This sorcerer must die." The mentor of the circle array spoke with an unquestionable tone. "All of you, fly low around the forest, Moda, track him with all your might. If he's still with the witch association, don't act for now. Instead, focus on tracking and wait for an opportunity. If he's alone, then kill him immediately!"

"Yes!" Moda, the crimson-robed sorcerer, complied, his eyes emitting a restrained fierceness. If it weren't for his good fortune that day, resisting that spell and dispelling the magic, he would now be nothing but a pile of flesh.

Death had been so close, and it was impossible for him to have no grudge against Panni. Therefore, after that day, he had been constantly thinking of revenge.

Now, he was fully confident about it!

That spellcaster was at most of third-level proficiency. What threat could a fourth-level Fire Wall scroll pose to a mentor of the circle array and five authentic crimson robes?

Moreover, this time they came to ambush the high-level witches, carrying quite a lot of goods with them. More importantly, they wouldn't be as negligent as last time.

With a glance downward, flying low, barely ten feet from the ground, a distance absolutely incapable of causing death...

A cruel smile played at the corners of the crimson robes' mouths, secretly deciding that once they caught the lad, they would persuade the mentor to subject him to a parabolic motion from hundreds of feet high... into the abyss.

In the dim underground, the rats enthusiastically studied the spacious teleportation gate, carefully comparing spatial coordinates and teleportation runes.

Beside them, the cunning imp continued to blow its own horn:

"Oh, my master, you are so wise, so powerful, you will surely understand the usage of this teleportation array, won't you? With your strength, you must be invincible in the multiverse! Master, let us go challenge the deep-seated demon lords. You will surely emerge victorious."

The cunning imp incessantly provided foolish suggestions, in its mind, if the silver-furred rat were to be taken out challenging fellows like Dimo Highgrove, then he would be free again once he was done for, and beyond that, it hadn't given much thought.

The intelligence of the silver-furred rat was not easily deceived by the cunning imp. Its claws traced a few patterns on the ground, and the center of the teleportation gate immediately turned into a chaotic void—the spatial rift had opened.

The rat's pupils gazed at the teleportation gate, reflecting an endless dimness—such was the nature of spatial fissures. Without entering them, it was difficult to know where they would lead intruders. Despite thorough spatial coordinate positioning work, it still lacked confidence—after all, it was the first time, so some experiments were needed to verify its safety.

With this thought in mind, the rat glanced at the cunning imp. Just as Addy was incessantly chattering, it suddenly found its limbs unresponsive, involuntarily moving toward the teleportation gate. It immediately understood what the rat intended to do and urgently shouted with its still movable mouth, "Master, master, please don't! Don't! Lachrasis is so loyal and brave, how could you treat him like this?!"

The rat naturally wouldn't believe the instigations of this bad servant who urged it to challenge demon lords. In its view, it was more appropriate to let such a servant test the reliability of the teleportation gate than to tolerate its noise here. As for the thoughts of loyal servants, they were certainly not within its considerations.

Just as it never deigned to consider Panny's thoughts.

"Master! Master! You're going to experiment, but those toys outside are more suited for it than me. Please don't treat the great Lachrasis like this. I beg you, wicked master, no, that's not what I mean, waaaaahhh!" Addy struggled against the master's will with awkward and ugly steps, wailing and howling like a lost soul.

As Addy wailed, he suddenly felt the controlling force over him dissipate. Turning around, he saw a streak of silver light darting up the stairs, presumably heeding his suggestion to search for a ferocious beast.

The cunning imp collapsed on the ground, gasping for air with tears streaming down his face, uttering illogical and incoherent words: "Wuuu... Oh, cruel abyss, great Lachrasis no longer believes in love... Wuuu..."