"What is this...?"
Heloise raised her head, a flicker of astonishment showing in her violet eyes.
A middle-aged man draped in a gray cloak and wielding a bronze scepter had appeared in the nearby sky.
He looked utterly at ease. With a casual wave of his scepter, he cast a shimmering ward spanning a hundred meters across, enveloping the caravan guards and the cultists alike within it.
*Whoosh—*
In an instant, the rolling black mist across the ground vanished without a trace, and the terrifying psionic vortex in the sky unraveled and shattered, as if it had never existed at all.
Heloise could not help but cover her mouth, murmuring, "Such a powerful spellcaster..."
This man, who had appeared out of nowhere as if in answer to her desperate prayers, gave her an impression unlike anything she had ever felt.
Even Grand Sage Trafalanlo of the Arcane Hermitage, whom she had accompanied her father to visit years ago, had not seemed to possess an aura this imposing and mysterious.
"Who are you?"
The black-robed bishop tilted his head up, revealing the twisted, octopus-like mask plastered over his face.
His voice trembled, unable to mask the sheer terror and rage beneath his words.
This mysterious man had not been part of his plan, nor had he appeared in the revelations granted by the omniscient, omnipotent God of Dominion.
"Heh, you ask who I am?"
The man let out a cold chuckle and replied flatly, "A worm on the verge of being crushed has no right to know my name."
"Impossible! The great God of Dominion is omniscient and omnipotent, yet you were not in the plan...
"I see it now! You—you are a demon sent by those false gods! You want to thwart our plans and stop the return of the God of Dominion!"
The black-robed bishop shook violently, lowering his head and muttering incessantly. His voice climbed higher and higher until it degraded into a frantic, rabid shriek.
"Demon, I will not let you have your way! The God of Dominion shall descend upon this world!"
He raised his bone staff high, grotesque energy surging within his exposed black eyes.
An ear-splitting screech rang out as an immense psionic shockwave erupted, blasting straight toward the gray-cloaked man in the sky.
*Hum—*
The mere aftershocks of that psionic blast forced the caravan guards to clutch their ears in agony. They collapsed to the ground, writhing as blood trickled from their noses and mouths.
Heloise covered her ears as well, yet she forced herself to look up and called out a breathless warning: "Watch out—"
Yet the man in the sky merely raised his bronze scepter at an unhurried pace, speaking languidly: "How boring. The same stale tricks as always."
*Boom—*
In a split second, blinding lightning erupted from the tip of the bronze scepter.
A thick bolt of lightning surged forth, mercilessly annihilating everything in its path.
Even the psionic shockwave disintegrated instantly beneath this terrifying elemental storm, unable to stall it for even a fraction of a second.
"This cannot be!"
The black-robed bishop cried out in disbelief, pure shock filling his pitch-black eyes.
Yet sheer survival instinct compelled him to trigger a psionic teleport. Psychic power warped space, and his slender, robed figure instantly reappeared a hundred meters away.
His subordinates, however, enjoyed no such fortune.
Accompanied by endless thunder and glaring electrical arcs, the thick bolt of lightning crashed directly before the cultists.
Before the wretched creatures could even scream, the high-voltage current incinerated their bodies and robes into ash.
*Crash!*
Behind them, scorched fissures scarred the rock faces, sending cascades of shattered stone tumbling down.
Hovering midair, the man swept his scepter in a light stroke. The lightning beam swept across a swath over a hundred meters wide, engulfing several hundred cultists all at once.
"It really has been too long since I cast a spell; I'm somewhat out of practice."
Only then did he end the spell, lightly blowing away the wisp of blue smoke drifting from the bronze scepter.
Delicate arcs of electricity still crackled around the shaft, snapping and popping against the air as though savoring the aftermath of such a grand display of power.
*Bzzzt...*
Down below, residual electricity skittered across the earth. The hundreds of cultists were reduced to piles of ash, from which faint trails of smoke curled upward.
Farther back along Mount Mal, a scorched furrow stretched across hundreds of meters, carved deep into the bedrock like a giant had slashed the mountainside with a colossal blade.
"By Helm, this is..."
Staring at the scorched remains that had been enemies mere moments ago, Captain Marvin stood dumbfounded, his hands trembling so hard he could scarcely hold his rifle.
Hundreds of meters away, the black-robed bishop glared up at the hovering man, panting heavily as he ground his teeth.
"You cannot halt the cult's grand design! The divine work of the God of Dominion will triumph!
"Just wait! When that time comes, all of you sinners will be cast into the bottomless abyss of torment!
"Warriors of the God of Dominion! Hold him back! Your souls shall ascend to the true paradise!"
The black-robed bishop waved his hand, and the rabble army behind him—goblins, bugbears, gnolls, and other wild monsters—swarmed forward in a fanatic frenzy.
Meanwhile, he gripped his bone staff, preparing to trigger another psionic teleport to flee the area.
This spellcaster fell outside their calculations. He needed to consult thoroughly with the cult's high-ranking leaders and devise a counterstrategy so that they could welcome the descent of the God of Dominion in flawless order.
"Who gave you the audacity to flee right under my nose?"
A cold chuckle cut through the air. The surrounding space fractured and warped in an instant, and the man was already hovering directly above him, bronze scepter held aloft.
Dark clouds had already gathered overhead, shrouding the world in gloom. Flashes of luminescence flickered within the rolling billows, amassing a terrifying reservoir of power.
The black-robed bishop looked up into the dense storm clouds, watching the impending descent of lightning, and shook his head while babbling frantically to himself:
"No, no... the God of Dominion will protect me. These sinners cannot kill me..."
*Boom!*
A thunderclap tore through the sky like a bolt out of the blue.
A lightning strike thick as a tree trunk came crashing down from the thunderclouds, tearing the heavens apart like a spear of divine judgment aimed straight at the bishop.
A sturdy psionic shield instantly deployed around the black-robed bishop, yet against this terrifying lightning, it proved as flimsy as wet paper and shattered without resistance.
"No—!"
The next instant, blinding lightning engulfed the bishop. By the time the glare dissipated, nothing remained on the ground save for a pile of ash.
Yet the man in the sky kept his bronze scepter raised. The heavy storm clouds continued to swell, blotting out the sun and engulfing the entire monstrous army beneath their shadows.
"By the God of Dominion, what is that?!"
"The bishop—the bishop is dead!"
"Kill him! Kill that human spellcaster! The God of Dominion will shield us and make us the new bishops!"
"Tear him apart! For the God of Dominion!"
Fanatic monster grunts fired arrows into the sky, hurling stones and javelins. Some of the sturdiest gnolls even tried to drag him down to earth.
Yet invisible force magic enveloped the man. Every arrow and javelin ricocheted harmlessly away, plunging instead into their fellow monsters.
"The God of Dominion?
"A creature like that dares style itself a deity?"
The man looked down with disdain upon the frenzied horde, pacing languidly across the sky as if oblivious to their frantic assaults.
His calm voice resonated over the wasteland, overpowering even the chaotic roars of the beasts.
Gale-force winds swept across the earth, tossing the monsters about until they tumbled over one another; a few goblins were even swept bodily into the air.
At last, the man swept down his bronze scepter with effortless grace. The terrifying lightning amassed within the storm clouds gathered to spill forth. Howling winds blew, yet the world seemed to fall dead silent.
Watching from hundreds of meters away, the well-read eldest daughter of House Silver recognized the spell.
She had seen descriptions of it in the ancient tomes of the Arcane Hermitage.
Heloise gazed up at the thick storm clouds shrouding the land and whispered to herself, "This is an ancient ninth-level spell..."
"*Storm of Vengeance*."
The next moment, her vision filled with reflected, blinding lightning. The sky lit up in an instant, casting a deathly pale glare over everyone's faces.
*Boom!*
*Boom! Boom!*
Thunder roared like an enraged beast, unleashing its fury across the wilderness.
Countless bolts of catastrophic lightning rained down in unison from the heavens, blasting the disorganized monsters into shredded scraps like a divine retribution upon the earth.
"God of Dominion!"
"I don't want to die!"
"Th-this is divine wrath! The God of Dominion is punishing us! That man is His divine emissary!"
"The world is ending!"
The few surviving goblins, bugbears, gnolls, and duergar wailed in terror, scattering in all directions.
Yet no path to survival awaited them—only deeper despair.
The storm clouds churned violently, crackling with lightning and howling with tempests as bolt after bolt pursued the fleeing monsters.
Immediately afterward, flesh-corrosive acid rain poured from the clouds. Pockmarked pits sizzled across the heads and backs of the beasts, sending them tumbling lifelessly to the earth in rapid succession.
"Aaargh!"
"God of Dominion..."
"It burns! It's the rain! The rain is killing us!"
Finally, freezing winds and torrential sleet hammered every corner beneath the clouds, encasing the battered survivors in solid blocks of ice and putting an end to their ravaged lives.
Once it was all over, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and sunlight bathed the earth anew, as if nothing had ever taken place.
Only the snapped javelins, the remnants of slaughtered monsters, and the scorched lightning scars across the earth remained to bear witness to the cataclysmic storm.
An army of over a thousand monsters had been wiped out just like that.
Yet the man who had wrought this devastation looked completely unfazed. He remained suspended in midair, as though he had merely attended to a trifling chore.
The gray cloak behind his back fluttered without wind, and the bronze scepter gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.
No one noticed an ugly, wriggling larva appear beneath his sleeve, wrapped in a film of soft light, before vanishing from sight.
"By the gods..."
"Phew..."
"Praise the gods, we survived."
"I can't believe what just happened. Is this a dream?"
"Indeed... the sudden ambush, and then... that spellcaster."
The members of House Silver's caravan collapsed to the ground, trading breathless remarks with lingering dread as they spoke of their brush with death.
Together, they turned their eyes toward the sky, focusing upon the mysterious man who had stepped in to save them, and promptly fell silent once more.
"..."
Nothing was truly settled yet. Whether they could leave this place alive depended entirely on whether that spellcaster proved friend or foe; the apocalyptic scenes from moments ago still lingered vividly in their minds.
What had transpired today was far too bizarre, leaving everyone in the caravan overwhelmed.
First came the ambush by cultists and their monster army, targeted by the so-called 'God of Dominion,' only to be rescued by this formidable spellcaster.
The man in the sky descended to the ground, taking no further action and seemingly waiting in quiet contemplation.
Heloise spoke in a low, firm tone: "Marvin, keep a close eye on the house guards. Do not let anyone make a reckless move under any circumstances.
"I am going to pay my respects and offer our thanks to that gentleman."
Marvin hesitated for a moment before offering a hushed warning: "Milady, that might be dangerous. Perhaps we should..."
Heloise strode northward with resolute steps, leaving behind a sharp, decisive reply: "I am the person in charge of House Silver's caravan. Your only duty is to obey orders."
Knowing dissuasion was futile, Marvin lowered his head and answered respectfully, "Understood, Milady."
Heloise quietly observed the mysterious spellcaster as she approached. He looked to be in his forties or fifties, with a neatly trimmed beard and a worn gray cloak.
He possessed a singular presence—merely standing there made him the center of the world, as though all creation revolved around his will.
Though past his youth, his face carried deep character. His profound eyes revealed a familiar undercurrent—contempt.
It was an expression Heloise knew well: the casual, unthinking disdain a superior held for those beneath them.
*For a spellcaster this mighty, it would be strange if he weren't arrogant,* Heloise thought.
She stopped before the man, lifted the hem of her skirt, and offered a deep, courteous curtsy. Keeping her gaze lowered, she said:
"Heloise Silver of Port Victoria sends you her greetings and her heartfelt gratitude.
"Honored Sorcerer, you generously extended your aid to help us repel our foes. House Silver will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded to—"
The man cut her off with a hint of surprise: "You can tell I'm a sorcerer?"
Heloise answered truthfully, "Only a sorcerer as mighty as yourself could possess such an aura of presence. Yet to encounter someone of your stature is a first for me."
Understanding dawned on the man, and he shook his head with an amused smile. "It has been far too long since I dealt with ordinary folk; I actually overlooked that.
"Still, I haven't heard of this city called Port Victoria. I take it to be a newer haven along Silvermoon Bay?"
Before his voice had even faded, the oppressive aura surrounding him vanished, settling into something as plain and ordinary as a common mortal.
A jolt went through Heloise's heart, her mind racing. Port Victoria had been established four hundred years ago; back then, the ancestor of House Silver had been nothing more than an obscure fisherman.
Yet this mysterious and powerful sorcerer had never even heard of the famed Port Victoria!
Just who was he?
Lowering her posture even further, Heloise ventured, "Milord, you are House Silver's savior. How may we address you?"
The man—or rather, Cassius—smiled with pleasant warmth and replied in an easy tone:
"Miss Heloise, was it? Getting rid of a few vermin was merely a passing convenience, nothing worth mentioning.
"As for a name... you may call me the Hermit."
Chapter 563