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*****
If the pre-evolution summon of the Violet Fry-Chicken Roll was like a light drizzle, then post-evolution, it was a torrential downpour.
Beyond the sheer volume, the range of Feny's summoning had also increased significantly. Now, as long as a location was within thirty meters of his line of sight, he could manifest them at will.
At this moment, the surrounding Asgardian soldiers, the Vanir civilians, and even the shackled rebels stood frozen, mouths agape as they watched a massive deluge of chicken rolls plummet from the sky.
The wooden crates Thor's men brought were large, but at this production speed, they stood no chance. In less than a few minutes, they were filled to the brim.
Hundreds, then thousands of Violet Fry-Chicken Rolls piled up together, radiating an enticing aroma that forced everyone in the vicinity to swallow hard against the sudden watering of their mouths.
"Is this enough?" Feny asked, turning to Thor.
Thor was currently staring at the mountain of fried food in a daze. He didn't even process the question at first, asking blankly, "What?"
"I asked if this is enough!" Feny repeated, exasperated.
"It... should be?" Thor stammered. While there were a lot of rolls, there were also many wounded. He wasn't entirely sure of the count, but he was struggling with the fact that this mountain had appeared in mere minutes.
His original intention had been for Feny to conjure a small amount to help those with the most critical injuries. He hadn't expected Feny to drop such an overwhelming "surprise."
"Find some cloth to spread on the ground. I'll summon more," Feny said, picking up on Thor's uncertainty. He figured he might as well go overboard to be safe. It wasn't like he was losing anything; at a rate of over five hundred thousand a day, he could afford to be wasteful.
"You can keep going?" Thor asked, sounding a bit stunned.
"Trust me," Feny replied with a smirk. "At this point, I could personally feed the entirety of Asgard."
If he were on Earth, he wouldn't dare make such a claim—half a million meals a day was a drop in the bucket for billions of people. But for Asgard, he felt quite confident. Even if the population in the Golden City wasn't the total number of Aesir, their overall numbers weren't staggering.
Thor fell silent, looking at the heap of food with a complex expression. He felt a sudden wave of shame for his previous reluctance to ask Feny for extra rolls. Even a hundred versions of himself eating for a week wouldn't make a dent in what Feny could produce in ten minutes.
Following Feny's instructions, Thor had his men find several large sheets of cloth, covering an area nearly thirty meters wide.
Feny resumed his performance. By now, the onlookers had grown somewhat numb. Looking at the sea of chicken rolls, their initial shock had transformed into a singular, profound respect for the "Mage."
After thirty minutes and tens of thousands of rolls, Feny finally ceased the summon.
The rich, savory aroma now permeated the entire battlefield. Even the battle-hardened Asgardian soldiers were swallowing their spit, casting longing glances at the mounds of Violet Fry-Chicken Rolls.
"Distribute this food to all the wounded!" Thor commanded. For the first time, he felt a deep, genuine admiration for Feny's magic, thinking that perhaps even his mother couldn't match this level of utility.
"If there's any left over after the wounded are fed, you men can have them," Thor added, noticing the hungry looks of his soldiers. With this much volume, there was more than enough to go around.
With the summoning finished, Feny and Thor immediately set off for the next battlefield.
They were literally "tireless in their galloping," as Vanaheim's primary mode of transport was the horse. This was a form of torture for Feny. With technology this advanced, was it really so difficult to develop a faster, more convenient vehicle?
Sure, Odin rode a horse, but was Sleipnir a normal horse? The thing had eight legs, and more importantly, Odin used the Bifrost for travel—the horse was mostly for the aesthetics of battle!
Feny grumbled internally, debating whether to just summon the Blue-Eyes White Dragon and fly there. However, considering the dragon was a massive target and they weren't in a desperate rush, he ultimately dismissed the idea.
Fortunately, the next conflict wasn't too far away. The group arrived quickly.
Unlike the previous village of defenseless civilians, this battlefield was much larger. It appeared to be a small fortress, and consequently, the defensive situation was far more stable.
"Asgardians!"
The gear worn by Thor and his men was instantly recognizable. The Vanir forces cheered, but the enemy didn't immediately retreat. Thor had only brought a small vanguard, and they likely felt they still had a numerical advantage.
Feny scanned the field. Compared to the previous fight, the enemies here were much more exotic—a chaotic mix of various races. The most prominent were a group of stone-like beings: tall, muscular, and composed entirely of greyish-white rock, wielding massive clubs.
What caught Feny's eye the most, however, were the Vanir. Among their ranks, a small number of individuals were chanting incantations. With a sudden flash of purple light, enemies would collapse to the ground for no apparent reason.
"What is that?" Feny asked Fandral as they rushed to provide support.
Following Feny's gesture, Fandral explained, "That's Vanaheim's magic—Incantations. Hogun actually knows a healing variant, though he's notoriously terrible at it."
Feny was intrigued, but current circumstances didn't allow for a scholarly study. He took one last look at the "Sorcerers" and dove into the fray.
Compared to the marauders from earlier, this battlefield was far more brutal. These were the true ideologues, the ones dedicated to overturning Asgardian rule. Feny didn't know the politics behind the revolt, nor did he care. This was war; once weapons were drawn, the concept of right and wrong was replaced by survival.
Soon, Feny's effectiveness drew the enemy's attention. Several stone beings were dispatched to deal with him.
Watching the rock-composed creatures clad in leather armor approach, Feny studied them with interest.
"Roar!"
The stone being didn't share Feny's curiosity. It let out a guttural roar and slammed its club toward Feny's head.
Feny dodged backward. The massive force shattered the ground where he had just stood, sending dust and stone fragments flying.
"Explosion!"
Feny unleashed a point-blank blast. To his surprise, the rock-hewn body only staggered back a few steps under the force of the flames. It appeared largely undamaged.
"Magic Resistance?!"
Feny blinked in surprise. This was the first time he had encountered an opponent that could shrug off his Explosion magic so effectively.
(End of Chapter)