No one could say a word.

Even those who had seen powerful mages in their lifetime had never witnessed magic like this. And even if they had met someone greater than Ghislain, they wouldn’t have seen this spell—it was magic that had never existed in the world until now.

Ghislain moved his staff slightly, and the fireballs began to drift, spreading out. Each one hovered above the heads of the Ironclad Lion Corps members.

“Damn it…”@@novelbin@@

The mercenaries were visibly shaken. With fireballs blazing above their heads, the threat was all too real. Any movement could cause the orbs to fall, and the thought paralyzed them.

Ghislain grinned and spoke.

“What do you think? Does this even the odds a bit, despite our smaller numbers?”

Tyron gritted his teeth, suppressing his rage. Up until now, he had been told the so-called “mage” didn’t even use magic. That assurance had made him confident Ghislain wasn’t a mage.

And yet here he was, unleashing magic on an unprecedented scale.

“Is he really a mage?”

“Told you so. Why does no one believe me until they see it?” Ghislain said, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Tyron’s mind raced. Someone like Zark, skilled enough to distinguish magic from physical skill, had claimed that Ghislain wasn’t a mage. That meant Ghislain’s martial prowess alone had been enough to take down a hundred men.

‘An elite warrior. That should’ve been the real focus.’

When dealing with a mage, the first rule was never to give them time or space to cast their spells. This was especially critical when facing someone who could use advanced-level magic.

Even a 4th-Circle mage could wreak havoc on a battlefield. Ghislain was clearly beyond that, making the current situation disastrous.

‘Can we even win?’

Tyron still believed they could. But the cost would be far greater than he had initially anticipated.

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