Inheritor Of Magic: The Magi King

Chapter 590 590 The Incredible Journey

590 590 The Incredible Journey

"Greetings, Noxus whelp. You are a Noxus aren't you? Only that disgraceful lot of necromancers would use something as vile as Nether Lightning." One of the old women greeted Wolfe in a slow voice. The gentle tone was a complete mismatch for her words, and she didn't even flinch as she patted out the Nether Lightning that Wolfe could tell had already breached her defensive spells. They were both at Rank Seven, but they felt like they were in their last days of life, and their powers were waning. Their aura was as oppressive as ever, he assumed, but the flow of mana through their bodies was wrong, as if they had already started to shut down, and soon their internal organs would fail and completely stop the flow.

"Wolfe Noxus, to be precise." He agreed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine afternoon? I don't have any tea prepared, but I can make some."

The one on his left, whose face was shrouded in a disguise spell, snorted in amusement, while the one on his right, who still had that kindly smile on her face, waved off his offer.

"I think that there won't be time for tea, young Noxus. You shouldn't have used the Grand Magic, you know. Even from our home, we can feel the spells activating, and when you use them over and over, it is not a problem to track you." She explained.

Wolfe shrugged, and did his best to keep a mild tone while taunting the Saints. "They are defensive arrays for the witches of this continent, protecting them from curse damage and cleansing evil from their surroundings. Unless those insane soldiers sacrifice all their generals to make curses, I don't think we have much to fear from the monsters anymore. A few hours in our territory and they'll be friendly as house pets."

His mind was desperately looking for a way out of this, but none of the spells that he had would stop these two if they were working together. They might be dying, but not that quickly. Whether they had a month or a year left was irrelevant today, as he only had minutes to come up with a solution.

The two old women looked at each other, and he could feel their auras shift as they prepared to do something. He didn't recognize the spell, and the amount of pure evil that was in their auras was so oppressive that he couldn't even tell if it was a curse through the putrid corruption of the surrounding mana.

They were the anathema to everything that a Witch should be. Witch Magic should heal and bring balance. They had brought nothing but corruption and death for so long that Wolfe couldn't feel anything else from them.

Mana flared to life, and a magical item activated, using the power of both Saints to fuel its power.

The Nether Lightning Array recognized it as an attack in an instant, and Wolfe instinctively numbed the senses of every witch connected to him as he drew everything that their combined powers could give to stop the attack.

Eerie teal lightning formed a halo around Wolfe as the array was overcharged, and he felt the spell inscription burn his flesh as the flow exceeded what he could handle.

The Saints cursed as their magical item exploded from the lightning attack, and a backlash of mana surrounded the three of them. The whole world seemed to warp from the influx, and the mana around them liquified from the overwhelming density. The world was never intended to have so much mana in one place, and it was completely uncontained. None of them knew a spell powerful enough to trap it, and any spell that they tried to use was sure to cause catastrophic side effects.

The Inheritance warned Wolfe of the danger, but he couldn't move. They had all been flying before the spells were cast, but the flying spell wasn't reacting to his mental input. It felt like the spell had shorted out, like electronics soaked in water.

So, Wolfe did the only logical thing that he could think of. He sent a message to Cassie.

[Beowulfe Abraxas Asmodai Lokarth Noxus. Remember, that is my name.] He told her, then smiled at the two panicked Witches as the liquid mana began to boil and destabilize.

Both Saints and Wolfe acted at the exact same moment, as all three of them came to the same conclusion. They had no choice but to act now, before someone else did, and the volatile liquid mana reacted.

They both cast a curse of some sort, while Wolfe activated the enhanced [Thunderstorm Array] that he had been preparing.

The spells sucked up the liquid mana, and everything went black as the three spells met.

Pain lanced through Wolfe's body, and the air was sucked from his lungs, while he felt the world spin violently. There was shrieking around him somewhere, but he wasn't sure if it was the Saints or the wind. Either way, he was certain that this was the end for him. Whatever that curse had been, he could feel it tearing his body apart, and no matter how much mana he poured into the [Mana Purification] spell, it wasn't stopping the pain of the curses.

A lyrical voice was shouting his name, but Wolfe was in no shape to respond as the world seemed to disappear around him. Perhaps this was what death felt like, and he was on his way to the underworld. If he were lucky, there would be two decrepit old hags with him.

Then the smell of corruption and evil faded, and the sound of shattering tree branches forced Wolfe to open his eyes and try to gather his bearings.

He was falling, crashing through the Fae Forest at terminal velocity, with the flickering remnants of his armour spell still active around him. Wolfe's mana cores burned as he drew the mana to stabilize his armour in preparation for a hard landing, and he could feel the damage that had been done to his body, but he was in no shape to search his pack for a healing potion.

The tree beside him groaned and swayed as Wolfe hit the ground and the burning disintegration of his body ended, leaving him feeling battered and bruised, but still breathing. It was more than he could have hoped for, and even though the impact had knocked the wind out of him, he could still feel everything.

With a groan, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, only to find himself face to face with the shadowy disguise of one of the Saints. She was bleeding through her robes, and her hand was unsteady as she cast a healing spell on herself before collapsing flat on the ground.

Wolfe laughed as he sensed the other Saint moving behind him, and the two ancient Witches' auras begin to flicker back to life.

"Is that the best that you have?" He joked as he pulled himself upright using the bark of a strange Fae tree.

"So much for the pacifism of the Magi. But we're only getting started, whelp. You'll never make it home alive." The shadowed Saint whispered, then coughed up a mouthful of blood and cast another healing spell on herself.

"It looks to me more like you're about done. Now, let me show you the virtues of youthful vitality."