Regardless of the reason, the magic had failed. Brother Hawen, visibly irritated, snapped at his henchmen, "What are you waiting for? Get moving!"
The Blazing Fire Gang was divided into two tiers: ordinary members and Brother Hawen's trusted subordinates. Since the gang had no entrance requirements, anyone could join at will, as Cipher and her companions had demonstrated.
The vast majority were ordinary members, the very ones now being hunted by the barbarians.
The smaller inner circle consisted largely of survivors from the Mage Tower incident. Black Hand had once commanded four loyal lieutenants. Besides the knight killed by Aisha, two remained: Old White and Big Ghost. Brother Hawen had tracked down these two and, after persuading them to follow him, promoted two others to create his own quartet of trusted subordinates.
With his four loyalists at his side, Brother Hawen snarled, "Wipe them out! Don't let these maniacs advance any further!"
Old White, a Ranger Class Holder, swiftly drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at a charging barbarian. The arrow whistled through the air and struck the barbarian squarely in the eye socket with deadly precision.
Since the Barbarians relied almost entirely on instinct in battle, lacking any real tactics, predicting their movements and shooting them was surprisingly easy.
This arrow, even if not fatal, would have incapacitated anyone else for at least a short time. But the Barbarian's first reaction upon being hit was to casually yank the arrow from his eye socket. He then jammed it into the neck of a nearby Blazing Fire Gang member!
Roaring, the Barbarian continued his assault as if nothing had happened. What was one lost eye? It made no difference whatsoever to his combat effectiveness.
Witnessing this, Old White's lip twitched involuntarily. Just as he drew his bow, aiming for another shot, a figure suddenly leaped down with a thunderous thud beside him. Nathaniel, the only Barbarian not in a Berserk State, stood grinning. He hefted a Great Axe in each hand, one resting on his shoulder and the other dragging on the ground, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. "So, a little cutie is sniping from afar?" he boomed. "Come here and let me show you some real tender loving care!"
Instantly, beads of sweat appeared on Old White's forehead. Just then, Big Ghost, a short, dark-skinned man barely over five feet tall—though not quite as swarthy as Brother Hawen—joined the fray.
Writhing in apparent pain, Big Ghost collapsed to the ground. A series of crackling sounds emanated from his body as he began to swell uncontrollably, thick fur erupting across his skin.
Big Ghost was a Druid Professional, a master of Natural Magic with the unique ability to transform into animals. Druids could soar as eagles in an instant, maul enemies as bears, or slip into hidden places as rats. This ability earned them the moniker "Shapeshifters."
It's worth noting that Wizards of the Transmutation School also possessed similar abilities. The Fourth-Level spell Polymorph could turn foes into sheep, while the Fifth-Level spell Eagle Transformation allowed them to become eagles themselves. However, a Bronze-tier Druid could freely shapeshift, whereas a Transmutation Wizard needed to master Fourth-Level and Fifth-Level spells—a significant gap in power.
And what was Big Ghost transforming into now? An Owlbear!
Cipher and her companions had encountered Owlbears before. While they had managed to defeat them without serious injury, they couldn't deny the creatures' formidable strength, especially one with human-level intelligence.
The Owlbear charged straight at Nathaniel, while Big White, the archer, retreated a few steps to provide ranged support.
Simultaneously, Brother Hawen and his two newly appointed lieutenants engaged Cipher and her group. These lieutenants consisted of a Warrior and a Thief. Aria and Douglas immediately teamed up against the Warrior in a righteous two-on-one assault, leaving Cipher to face the Thief alone.
Let's first focus on Brother Hawen's situation. After his Human Immobilization Spell failed, he scanned the battlefield. The Barbarians' reckless charge had scattered his forces, leaving them trapped in multiple one-on-many engagements.
Normally, fighting multiple opponents would severely hamper one's movements. The movie trope of a lone protagonist effortlessly dispatching hordes of enemies without a scratch is utterly unrealistic.
Attacking any one enemy would draw simultaneous strikes from the rest. Even if one focused solely on defense, there would always be blind spots in their field of vision.
But these barbarians were utterly outrageous. For example, one barbarian facing five opponents would relentlessly pursue a single target, completely ignoring the attacks of the other four.
Whether they swung swords or thrust spears, it didn't matter. "You attack your way, I'll attack mine!"
After brutally tearing apart his first enemy with his bare hands, the barbarian, now covered in wounds, would charge at his second, repeating the same relentless assault.
These barbarians were incredibly tough. Their muscles, though not as hard as steel, were as solid as stone. Combined with their apparent insensitivity to pain, the sight sent a chill down Brother Hawen's spine.
Nevertheless, he quickly identified a densely packed group of barbarians and prepared to cast his spell.
Fourth-Level Conjuration School: Evard's Black Tentacles!
The caster designates an area with a radius of up to twenty meters, summoning countless writhing, pitch-black tentacles within it. These endless tendrils relentlessly ensnare all creatures in the area, restricting their movements and even strangling them to death.
This was undoubtedly a battle-altering spell. By simply dropping it into the crowd, Brother Hawen could delay and immobilize countless barbarians.
But just as Brother Hawen began casting his spell, a red beam of light struck him first. It felt as if he had just exhaled and was about to inhale when someone nearby farted, forcing him to suck in the entire foul stench—utterly nauseating.
Third-Level Abjuration School: Counterspell!
Feidric, of course, was the one who had cast it. He had timed his move perfectly, interrupting Brother Hawen's spell mid-chant.
Brother Hawen grimaced in frustration. "You son of a bitch!"
He raised his hand again to cast another spell. "Third-Level Conjuration School...!"
Feidric countered once more. "Counterspell!"
The wizard battles most people imagined involved summoning ice and flames, conjuring hurricanes and lightning, with both sides unleashing dazzling displays of magical power. But in reality, Feidric simply waited for Brother Hawen to cast a spell, then countered it. He wasn't trying to defeat Brother Hawen, only to prevent him from interfering with the battlefield and condemn them both to inaction. That was enough.
Enraged, Brother Hawen jabbed a finger at Feidric's face, his voice raw with fury. "I'll fucking kill you! You're insane! I'll fuck your entire family!"
In his rage, Brother Hawen shifted his target to Feidric. A ball of fire ignited at his fingertip. "Flame Arrow!"
This time, Feidric didn't counterspell. Instead, he immediately sidestepped, dodging the fist-sized "small fireball."
Brother Hawen cursed again. "Damn it! Why didn't you counterspell that?!"
Feidric shrugged. "I'm not stupid. Why waste a counterspell on something like that?"
Flame Arrow wasn't Fireball. It was a cantrip from the Evocation School, designed to hurl a fist-sized flame at someone with minimal power.
Visibly, faint red streaks began to appear on Brother Hawen's pitch-black skin, indicating he was overheating. This was their established dynamic: Feidric would physically evade or block low-level spells with a Spell Shield, but he'd counterspell high-level ones.
While the scene might seem comical, Feidric's approach required immense skill. He had to instantly assess whether a spell warranted a counterspell, and executing one effectively was no simple task.
Counterspelling too early—before the caster had fully mobilized their Magic Power or completed the incantation—could disrupt the spell, but it left the opponent no worse off. They could simply recast it, while Feidric would have squandered precious Magic Power.
Naturally, interrupting too late would be pointless.
Feidric had to time his counterspell perfectly, striking the instant his opponent's spell was fully prepared and their magic power exhausted. Only then could he inflict maximum damage, ensuring his foe lost both their investment and their opportunity.
Brother Hawen gnashed his teeth in fury, utterly helpless. Unable to cast any spells, he couldn't even resort to a fistfight.
Even his demonic Patron raged, "Damn it! How can this Protective Mage be so infuriating?! Surrender control of your body to me temporarily! I'll cast a different spell!"
Consumed by rage, Brother Hawen agreed without hesitation. In an instant, curved, goat-like demonic horns sprouted from his forehead, and the whites of his eyes turned crimson. He chanted, "Sixth-Level Conjuration School—Summon Demon!"
After all, demons were notoriously simple-minded creatures, making them ideal muscle for supposedly cunning demons. Witnessing this, Feidric's expression turned grim as he swiftly uncorked a Magic Power Potion and gulped it down.
Counterspell was only a Third-Level spell, making it exceedingly difficult to counter a Sixth-Level spell. But if Counterspell wouldn't work, Feidric had other tricks up his sleeve.
As mentioned earlier, the Abjuration School specialized in countering the other Seven Great Schools. For example, they had developed the Positive Energy Shield specifically to counter Necromancy. But what if the enemy was a Conjuration School wizard? Summoning magic seemed particularly difficult to defend against.
If that's what you thought, you'd be underestimating the Protective Mages of the Abjuration School. Take the Fourth-Level spell Banishment, which sent summoned creatures back to where they came from. Or the Fifth-Level Abjuration spell Feidric had recently learned and was now preparing to use: Twisted Covenant!
The spell's effect was exactly as its name implied. When an enemy summoned a creature, Twisted Covenant warped the contract binding it, forcing the creature to swear allegiance to Feidric instead. In other words, he would steal the summoner wizard's own summon right from under their nose!
Boom!
A demon engulfed in flames, towering at least three meters tall, materialized between Feidric and Brother Hawen. Simultaneously, the demon possessing Brother Hawen roared in fury, "What the hell?! Where did my contract go?!"
-
Time shifted slightly forward, focusing on Cipher's perspective as she silently assessed her opponent.
The man was clad in a tight black bodysuit with a half-mask concealing his nose and mouth. Crouching low, he gripped two small daggers, his gaze fixed intently on Cipher. "Catfolk? In Chaos City? That's a rare sight indeed."
"Is it?" Cipher responded casually, inwardly pondering how to approach this fight. She knew she could end it instantly if she chose to.
But then what? Continue hunting down enemies, dispatching them swiftly, only to repeat the cycle until the siege ended? What difference would that make if Castorice herself were here?
After a moment's consideration, Cipher decided to stall. I'm just a poor little Catgirl, she thought. I managed to hold off one of the Boss's four trusted lieutenants. I've done my best!
Of course, her cat tail swished merrily behind her, betraying her complete lack of stress. Anyone who glanced her way would immediately realize she was thoroughly relaxed.
But with everyone else immersed in the fierce battle, no one—except the masked man before her—had the time to notice her composure.
Bang!
Without the slightest warning—after all, they were both thieves, and thieves don't announce their attacks—the masked man charged toward Cipher, his dagger flashing toward her neck like lightning.
Cipher casually leaned backward, effortlessly evading the sudden strike. The instant his first attack missed, the masked man swung his other dagger downward, aiming for her abdomen.
For anyone else, maintaining balance in that backward-leaning position while deciphering his next move would have been nearly impossible. Even if they could see it, dodging would have been extremely difficult.
But Cipher simply flicked her tail, shifting her center of gravity. While still leaning back, she twisted her slender waist, rotating sideways. This allowed her to evade the second strike while simultaneously raising her leg and delivering a kick to the masked man's waist.
Thud!
At that moment, Cipher clearly saw the masked man's eyes widen in agony. Her kick seemed to have landed squarely on his kidney—he looked like he was in excruciating pain.
Of course, this was only because Cipher had deliberately restrained her strength. Had she not held back, the consequences would have been far more severe than mere kidney pain.