Supreme Magus

Chapter 4166: Frozen World (Part 1)

Lith’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the self-repairing barrier that barred his access to the Frorl Household, and the coldness of his fury manifested into a single word.

”Jerak!” The Cursed Ice coated the weakened external layers of runes, almost freezing them into place and forcing what was supposed to be ethereal into a physical form.

Alas, almost is seldom enough.

Mirror Magic was a powerful tool, but chore magic was the dullest blade among all kinds of magic.

”Jerak...” Lith searched in the world energy, listening to the angry roar and pain in Mogar’s voice that resonated with his own. ”Jerak Satha!”

The energy of the barriers before Lith stilled, the tier one Zero Spell trapping what was supposed to be immaterial into solid hoarfrost.

Before anyone could register the shock from the impossible feat, Lith delivered his next punch. The runes shattered, and with them the barrier they held together. The arrays still worked. They still had energy.

Yet for the first time since they had been laid, they couldn’t stop the intruder crossing their threshold.

”Jerak... Sath Skanash!” The tier two Zero Spell froze deeper into the barrier and stopped its edges surrounding Lith from regenerating.

Another punch opened a corridor leading straight to the main door of the noble household.

”Follow me.” Lith’s voice was akin to the wind howling through the abyss as he beckoned Clila. ”Stay close, and nobody will hurt you.”

Lith released the full might of his Tiamat Fear to take control of the world energy and the Full Guard of his armor to ensure Clila’s safety.

He ripped the hardwood enchanted double doors off their hinges like wet paper, revealing the threat that waited for him beyond.

Soldiers and mages bearing the insignia of House Frorl raised their shields and wands, ready to face the unknown invader.

”Stand down.” The arrays protected the guards, yet the weight carried by Lith’s voice made them falter. ”I’m Supreme Magus Verhen.”

He gave no further explanation and had no need to. His white and gold robe was all the proof they needed. The horns, seven eyes, and six wings were just overkill.

”Stop him!” The voice of Marquis Frorl snapped the guards’ captain out of his daze. ”We need time to fix this. Don’t let him in. At all costs!”

”Fire!” Duty and honor bound the captain to obey the orders, and so did most of his soldiers.

The mages controlling the arrays focused them on Lith, multiplying gravity around him by several folds. Chains of pure energy wrapped themselves around his limbs and kept him in place as a rain of top tier three spells hit him from every side.

Lith took them all, his Tiamat Fear focused on keeping both arrays and spells away from Clila. The icicles, fire blasts, and darkness bolts couldn’t kill him, but they hurt him. He embraced the pain and returned it tenfold.

Final Eclipse generated a dome of black fire that intercepted the enemy spells and bit deeper into the magical formations, while a swarm of black bolts from Plague Storm ravaged the mansion’s lobby into rubble.

Only those who had obeyed Lith’s order still lived. Everyone else lay dead and broken, just like the furniture of the room.

Lith took a full breath, hurling a jet stream of Origin Flames and weakening the arrays further. The mages of the house had never stopped swapping depleted crystals with new ones, yet the damage Lith had inflicted on the magical formations cut literally deep.

And it was about to get deeper.

”Jerak Skan Ghirash!” More and more vital runes froze under the violence of the tier three Zero Spell, shattering under Lith’s fist.

The magical formations protecting the Frorl Household weren’t just damaged. They were wounded, and they bled world energy faster than their self-repair enchantments could mend them.

Lith entered the Main Hall and found another and bigger contingent of troops ready for him.

”Stand down.” He said. ”You know who I am. You saw what I can do.”

Half of the mages and soldiers dropped their weapons and knelt on the ground with their hands on their heads. The other half died in a tier five spell, Burial Grounds.

Clila kept herself five steps behind Lith. Close enough to be protected at a moment’s notice, but far away enough not to hinder him.

She witnessed carnage unfold every time Lith opened a new door. She smelled the burned flesh and heard the agonizing screams of the dead. She felt nothing.

The only thing Clila could see was the broken figure of her little brother. The only thing she could smell was Elfiam’s blood on the road pavement. The only thing she could hear was his dying words.

Clila felt Elfiam’s body going limp in her arms, and the death around her seemed fair. It was weregild for her pain, and she wouldn’t blink until she was paid in full.

Lith reached a long corridor leading to the Tea Hall, where the masters of the house and his quarry were. Another squad stood against him, and he warned them. This time, so many ran away that the few who remained lost their courage.

No one tried to stop Lith, and the following squads didn’t even wait for his command to scramble towards the nearest exit. Death walked through those halls, and no one wanted to feel his cold embrace.

By the time Lith reached the Tea Hall and found Shet Frorl at the end of the trail, only one minute had passed since he had Blinked in front of the gates. In that moment, Ragnarök fulfilled its duty and returned to its master’s hand.

The damage that the angry blade and Lith’s Zero Spells had wreaked upon the arrays destroyed them for good. The defensive system that had protected House Frorl for generations collapsed, and its magic faded forever.

No powerful crystal could inject new life into the dying arrays. No Array Repairing spell could put together the scattered runes. Everything would have to be redone from scratch. In one day, an important piece of the Frorl legacy had been erased from Mogar.

It was an unprecedented achievement in the history of Garlen. The magical formations of an ancient household hadn’t been overridden as the Royals would, ignored as Balkor’s thralls would, or breached as the Dead King would.

They had been destroyed by the cold fury of a single man.

Yet those who bore witness to such a feat had no care for it.

The only thing that mattered to Lith was that he had found his quarry, and his quarry only wanted a way out from that nightmare.

”You.” Lith pointed a clawed finger surrounded by pitch-black obsidian skin at Shet Frorl. ”Your clothes are stained with the blood of Elfiam of Ratharn, and I’m sure your horse carries even more.

”Your breath reeks of alcohol.” That word poisoned Lith’s tongue and made him want to puke, but he resisted the urge. ”You are accused of trampling over a young boy, fleeing the scene, providing no assistance to your victim, and ultimately causing his death.

”How do you plead?” There was nothing that Lith wanted more than to unleash his wrath. He wanted to tear those noble scum apart and shower in their blood. Yet he could not.