Book 8: Chapter 32: The Might of Hohenheim

The words had barely registered when David caught a flicker of movement.

Even with the sharpened senses of an Archmage, he could hardly follow the streak that flashed past. It moved like a bolt of lightning, reaching its target in the space between heartbeats.

The Feuerkranz Mage reacted instantly, raising both arms in defense. Metal bracers caught the descending tip of the massive pole aimed at his skull. They were the only defensive gear he wore—but clearly not ornamental.

The weapon, swung with the force of a mountain-splitter, was stopped dead in its tracks.

Only now did David recognize who had arrived.

It was the woman who followed his young lord around like a lost puppy.

Zelkara.

But the figure before him now bore none of the docile gentleness he’d grown used to. She looked feral—utterly so. Her white hair was streaked with drying blood, her fur coat singed at the edges, and her expression was that of a predator mid-hunt.

No fear. No hesitation. Only cold, focused intent.

Even after her opening strike was parried, she didn’t falter. A second and third blow followed instantly, each one flowing into the next with the seamless precision of water in motion.

The Feuerkranz met her strikes with his bracers, but it was far from effortless. Inch by inch, he lost ground, forced back from the very spot he had held so confidently while fighting David.

A fact that visibly irked him. After deflecting yet another strike aimed at his vitals, a torrent of flame erupted from his chest, catching Zelkara completely off guard. She didn’t even have time to shield herself.

David grit his teeth as he watched her dash back a beat too late. She had been exposed to the flames for only an instant, yet the damage was catastrophic. The entire left side of her body was charred black. Her cheekbone and several teeth were exposed where the skin had been burned away entirely.

“There must be a nest here somewhere,” the Feuerkranz said, composure returning now that he had regained the upper hand. “No matter. I’ll simply deal with all of—”

The words died in his throat.

Zelkara, who had looked like a walking corpse a moment ago, was recovering. Burned flesh regrew, muscle knit itself back together, and even her singed hair regained its luster.

Behind her, the wolfkin warriors who had been on the brink of death rose as well, completely restored. It was as if time itself had been rewound to before the flames touched them.

“Unlikely,” a voice said—a voice David recognized instantly. This time, it wasn’t a whisper in his mind but a call coming from the far side of the clearing.

Two figures stepped into view: a young man with striking red hair, followed by an elven woman of breathtaking beauty.

“An elf?” the Feuerkranz muttered, his gaze immediately locking onto the woman. It was no surprise; her aura was so overwhelming that the man beside her seemed like a firefly beside the sun.

His view was cut off a moment later as the young man stepped directly into his line of sight.

“How rude,” the newcomer said. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare so blatantly at a lady?”

His tone was casual, almost joking—a sharp enough contrast to make the Feuerkranz finally look at him properly.

“That hair… A Blood Mage? I see now. That explains why Maximilian’s lapdog is here. You’re that boy: Ezekiel.”

“Ezekiel von Hohenheim, at your service,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

The Fire Mage scowled, gears turning behind his eyes. “What happened to the commander? There is no way he’d allow someone like you to walk around freely.”

“Dead,” Ezekiel said, as casually as if commenting on the weather.

The Fire Mage’s frown deepened. “You killed a member of the Geistreich family? The Emperor’s kin?”

Ezekiel shrugged. “I would kill the Emperor himself, if I could.”

“That’s quite the statement, boy. But there’s a difference between courage and madness.”

Ezekiel nodded. “I agree. It’s the same line that separates confidence from arrogance. But it isn’t up to us to decide which side we stand on. Only time reveals that.”

The Fire Mage shook his head. “Quite the orator, aren’t you? But words won’t shield you from the storm you’ve provoked by meddling in our affairs this time.”

Ezekiel’s expression remained relaxed. “What difference does it make? Your beloved Emperor has been coming after me for years. So what if he tries a little harder now?”

“You do not understand what you speak of,” the man said, a look of pity crossing his features. “He has not been coming after you. I’d be surprised if he even knew you existed. Because a few bureaucrats put some half-hearted measures in place, you believe you can endure the wrath of

the

Emperor?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Ezekiel’s smile didn’t waver.

“What is he going to do, exactly? Send even more people after me?”

The Fire Mage frowned at the flippant answer. “What do you even know? The Emperor is a beast with a thousand faces, acting in ways only he understands, toward a goal only he can see. His influence reaches into every corner of the world. You could be serving his will without even realizing it. And now you’ve drawn the attention of such a figure. I do not envy your fate, boy.”

Ezekiel’s expression finally shifted, becoming thoughtful. “A beast with a thousand faces… that has a nice ring to it. But I suppose it’s 999 now, since I killed one.”

“Insolence,” the Mage spat. “Another sign of your youth and inexperience.”

Ezekiel’s smile sharpened. “I guess we’ll see in a moment.”

At his words, the scene changed. Hundreds of figures stepped into the clearing from every direction, Chimeroi of all kinds, mixed and matched like a menagerie of living weapons.

Then the horn blared again, this time from directly overhead.

David hadn’t even noticed the disappearance of the distant Alexandria. But now, the vessel hung above them, vast and silent, its presence pressing down on the battlefield like a descending mountain.

The Feuerkranz Mage frowned. Even surrounded, he showed no fear.

“So that was your plan? Ramble nonsense while secretly boxing me in?”

Ezekiel gave no reply.

“Well,” the Mage continued, “that’s about what I expected from a child. A half-baked scheme with no understanding of the forces he’s provoked.”

Fire flared from the man’s chest, burning so brightly it scorched the earth black for dozens of steps in every direction.

David felt the heat on his skin. The smell of ash and charred wood flooded the clearing. Every shadow vanished as radiant light washed over them, as if a miniature sun had ignited in their midst.

“You think to defeat me with numbers?” the man said, his voice more imposing than ever. “Come, then. I will burn the flesh from their bones so thoroughly that not even that long-eared bitch will be able to sew them back together.”

The blaze intensified, a light so blinding it hurt to even look at it.

“...And when you inevitably use your Space Magic to run, nothing will remain of your household but burnt corpses.”

Ezekiel took a step forward, then another. He approached the edge of the scorched ground. His skin reddened, his hair whipped by the heat-born winds—yet his golden eyes never left the man before him.

“Run?” Another step. “From you?”

He stopped roughly two dozen steps away.

“You think my confidence comes from being able to flee?” Ezekiel shook his head. “Then how about this: if you make me move a single step from here, I will consider this your victory.”

The Feuerkranz Mage frowned.

“But if you lose,” Ezekiel continued, “I’ll add your head to my collection and place it beside the rest of your wretched kin, you Feuerkranz bastard.”

David’s heart nearly stopped. At this distance, he couldn’t intervene. If Ezekiel didn’t use Space Magic, he would die instantly.

The Fire Mage hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. His hand shot out, and a pillar of flame roared into existence, devouring the space between them.

Before it could reach Ezekiel, a blur streaked past him. Cloaked in pale blue mist, Zelkara met the flames head-on. Her spear spun into a whirling barrier as her body absorbed the rest of the blast.

It charred her completely again, yet she didn’t even flinch. And not a single hair on Ezekiel had been touched.

The Fire Mage’s frown deepened. But before he could act again, dozens of spears rained from the sky. Flames surged to shield him, but the black spears—coated in Frostscale poison—quenched the fire, forcing him to dodge.

He landed—and another figure was already there. A woman with striped fur, moving just as fast as Zelkara. Her claws were reaching for his throat.

He managed to kick her away just in time—but not fast enough to avoid the mountain of scales and muscle charging a step behind her.

Elder Dragon’s fist slammed into his chest, a blow that could have shattered a boulder. The Archmage only grunted before exhaling a torrent of flame, forcing the Chimeroi elder to retreat in haste.

Before he could pursue, however, a bolt of lightning struck his left shoulder, making his body twitch. It lasted only an instant, but it was enough for Elder Dragon to escape unharmed.

David watched in absolute awe as one attack flowed seamlessly into the next. Zelkara, Ash, Elder Tiger, and Elder Dragon cycled through close combat with relentless precision, while the remaining Chimeroi and the Alexandria’s crew filled every opening with ranged attacks.

This… was the most perfect coordination he had ever witnessed.

There was no gap to exploit. No moment to breathe. A flawless orchestra of violence.

And at the center of that storm—of hundreds of bodies moving in perfect accord—stood a single, unmoving figure.

How was he doing this?

How was this even possible?

The answer came a moment later, when David once again heard Ezekiel’s voice in his mind.

“Hide in Elder Dragon’s shadow and strike when I give the signal.”

As if guided by prophecy, Elder Dragon vaulted away from a lance of flame, his long shadow stretching to just a step from David. Without hesitation, David slipped into it.

A metal sphere slammed into the Archmage’s back before he could follow up his attack with something more.

David traced its path to the blue-skinned woman with the veil. Gravitas was already moving, half a dozen metal spheres orbiting her as she sprinted.

“FUCKING VERMIN!” the man roared, unleashing a wave of fire that consumed the stretch of land Gravitas had stood on. But she was already gone.

Ash materialized from the mist, raking a deep gouge across the man’s back with his bone daggers. Howling in pain, the Archmage lashed out again, but struck nothing but air.

Elder Dragon tried to fill the gap, charging in. The Fire Mage saw him coming, cutting him off with a blazing sphere before he could close the distance. But that was all the time he had. Zelkara was on him the next heartbeat.

“Now.”

David had seen the opportunity even before the voice reached him. The fireball streaking past Elder Dragon elongated his shadow to a point just beneath the enemy—and David was there instantly.

He emerged in utter silence, fist drawn back. But before he struck, something surged into him—a new kind of power. His veins throbbed, his muscles bulged with renewed strength.

Life Magic.

With a wicked smile, David drove his fist into the man’s unprotected back. At the moment of impact, a razor-thin blade of concentrated shadow extended from his knuckles, plunging deep into the Archmage’s flesh.

This was no minor wound.

Even for someone of this caliber, taking an empowered blow to the spine was as devastating as it sounded.

The Feuerkranz Mage stumbled forward, blood spraying across the scorched earth.

David looked from his bloody fist to the man pitifully rolling in the soot-covered dirt. It was the first real blow he had landed. He had struggled just to stay alive for so long—yet this devastating strike had felt almost effortless now.

It was as if his opponent had been switched out.

No. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t the opponent who had changed...

His gaze shifted to the stationary figure of his young lord. Ezekiel stood there, meeting his eyes with a faint, knowing smile.