Chapter 567: The Mysterious Hermit
Chapter 567: The Mysterious Hermit
"This is..."
Heloise looked up, a trace of surprise flickering in her violet eyes.
A middle-aged man clad in a gray cloak and holding a bronze staff appeared in the sky not far away.
His expression was relaxed, and with a casual wave of his staff, he created a shimmering barrier spanning a hundred meters that enveloped both the caravan guards and the cultists.
"Swoosh—"
In an instant, the rolling black mist on the ground vanished, and the terrifying psychic vortex in the sky disintegrated and collapsed as if it had never existed.
Heloise couldn’t help but cover her mouth, whispering, "Such a powerful spellcaster..."
This man who suddenly appeared, as if answering her prayer, gave her an unprecedented feeling.
Even years ago, when she accompanied her father to visit the "Great Sage" Trafalano of the Arcane Hermitage, she had not sensed such strength and mystery.
"Who are you?"
The black-robed archbishop looked up, revealing a twisted, octopus-shaped mask covering his face.
His voice trembled, unable to hide the fear and rage within.
—Because this mysterious man was neither part of his plan nor within the revelation of the so-called "Omniscient and Almighty" Lord of Dominion.
"Heh... you ask who I am?"
The man sneered and calmly replied, "A bug about to be crushed doesn’t deserve to know my name."
"Impossible! The great Lord of Dominion is omniscient and omnipotent, and you were never part of the plan—
I know! You’re a demon sent by the false gods, trying to thwart our plan and prevent the return of the Lord of Dominion!"
The black-robed archbishop trembled violently, bowing his head and muttering increasingly loudly, until it became a mad scream.
"Demon! I won’t let you succeed! The Lord of Dominion will descend upon the world!"
He raised his bone staff high, dark energy surging in his exposed black eyes.
A piercing screech sounded as a torrent of psychic energy burst forth, blasting straight at the gray-cloaked man in the sky.
"Buzz—"
Even the residual waves of that psychic blast made the caravan guards groan in pain, clutching their ears as they writhed on the ground, blood oozing from their mouths and noses.
Heloise also covered her ears but still forced herself to look up and whispered, "Watch out—"
Yet the man in the sky simply raised his bronze staff slowly and said calmly, "Boring. Still using these same old tricks."
"Boom—"
In a flash, dazzling lightning burst from the tip of the bronze staff.
A thick bolt of lightning surged forth, obliterating everything in its path.
Even the psychic blast was instantly dispersed by the elemental storm, unable to resist for even a moment.
"This can’t be!"
The black-robed archbishop screamed in disbelief, his black eyes wide in shock.
But survival instinct forced him to initiate a psychic teleport, warping space with his mind and appearing a hundred meters away.
His subordinates, however, were not so lucky.
Accompanied by thunder and dazzling light, the thick lightning bolt struck the cultists.
These pitiful creatures didn’t even have time to scream before the high-voltage current turned their bodies and robes to ash.
"Boom!"
Behind them, even the rocks were scorched and cracked, sending shards tumbling down.
The man waved his staff again, and the bolt swept across a hundred meters, devouring hundreds of cultists.
"It’s been so long since I cast a spell, I’m a bit rusty."
He ended the spell, blowing on the bronze staff to cool the glowing tip.
Fine arcs still danced around the staff as the air crackled and popped, resonating with the massive spell just cast.
"Ssszz..."
On the ground, arcs still coursed across the scorched terrain, wisps of smoke rising from the ashes of the cultists.
A charred scar hundreds of meters long was etched into the mountain behind, as if a giant had sliced the slope with a blade.
"By Heim... this is..."
Marven, the guard captain, was dumbfounded, barely able to hold his rifle as he stared at the blackened battlefield.
Hundreds of meters away, the archbishop glared at the floating man, panting and gnashing his teeth:
"You can’t stop the Church’s plan. The Lord of Dominion’s grand work will succeed.
Just wait. When that day comes, all of you sinners will be cast into the endless inferno.
Warriors of the Lord of Dominion! Hold him off! Your souls shall ascend to the true paradise!"
With a wave, the goblins, bugbears, gnolls, and other wild beasts behind him surged forward, eyes blazing with fanaticism.
He gripped his bone staff, preparing another psychic teleport to escape.
This spellcaster was an unforeseen variable; he needed to consult with the elders in the Church to formulate a counterplan and properly greet the coming of their god.
"Who gave you the courage to flee under my watch?"
A cold laugh echoed as the space around him twisted and shattered—suddenly, the man was hovering above his head, staff raised.
The sky grew dark with thunderclouds, and bright lights flashed from within, amassing a terrifying force.
The archbishop looked up at the swirling storm and the descending lightning, muttering to himself:
"No... no... the Lord of Dominion will protect me. These sinners can’t kill me..."
"BOOM!"
Thunder roared across the heavens.
A lightning bolt as thick as a bowl slammed down like a spear, rending the sky and smiting the archbishop.
A psychic shield sprang up around him but was shattered like paper by the lightning.
"No—"
Blinding light engulfed him. When it faded, only ashes remained.
The man in the sky still held his staff aloft as thunderclouds continued to expand, covering the entire monster army.
"Lord of Dominion above, what is that?"
"The archbishop... he’s dead!"
"Kill him! Kill that human spellcaster! The Lord of Dominion will protect us! We’ll become the next archbishop!"
"Yes! Tear him apart! For the Lord of Dominion!"
The fanatical monsters fired arrows and hurled stones and javelins, while burly gnolls tried to pull him to the ground.
But invisible magical fields deflected all attacks, which instead hit the attackers themselves.
"Lord of Dominion?
That thing dares call itself a god?"
The man looked down with disdain at the crazed monsters, strolling through the air, indifferent to their attacks.
His calm voice echoed across the plains, drowning out the monsters’ howls.
A whirlwind swept the land, toppling monsters left and right. Some goblins were even lifted into the air.
Finally, he casually waved his staff, and the thunderclouds loomed, crackling with lightning. Wind howled—and then, silence.
From afar, the well-read Heloise recognized the spell.
—She had seen it described in ancient tomes of the Arcane Hermitage.
Heloise stared at the stormy sky and murmured, "This is an ancient Ninth-Circle spell..."
"Storm of Vengeance."
Her pupils reflected the blinding lightning. Daylight returned as all faces turned pale.
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
Lightning howled like a raging beast.
Countless bolts rained from the sky like divine retribution, obliterating the mixed-breed monsters.
"Lord of Dominion!"
"I don’t want to die!"
"This... this is divine punishment! That man is the Lord’s messenger!"
"The world is ending!"
Surviving goblins, bugbears, gnolls, duergar—wailed and fled in terror.
But they found no escape, only more despair.
Lightning chased the fleeing monsters as acid rain poured from the clouds, burning holes into their bodies.
"Ah!"
"Lord of Dominion..."
"It burns! It’s the rain! Deadly rain!"
Ultimately, wind and ice swept across the land, freezing the wounded monsters into lifeless blocks.
When it ended, the clouds dispersed and sunlight returned, as if nothing had happened.
Only broken javelins, monster corpses, and scorched earth bore witness to the cataclysm.
A monster army of over a thousand had been destroyed with ease.
Yet the man who caused it all floated calmly in the air, as if it were nothing.
His gray cloak fluttered, and the bronze staff gleamed under the sun.
No one noticed a squirming, hideous larva in his sleeve, wrapped in a layer of light before vanishing.
"By the gods..."
"Phew..."
"Thank the gods, we’re still alive."
"I can’t believe what just happened. Was that a dream?"
"Yeah... the sudden attackers... and that spellcaster."
The members of the Seaver family caravan slumped to the ground, sharing their near-death experiences.
All eyes turned to the mysterious man in the sky, and silence fell.
"..."
Indeed, it wasn’t over. Whether they could leave alive depended on whether that spellcaster was friend or foe.
The memory of that divine wrath still lingered in their minds.
The day’s events were too bizarre for them to process.
First ambushed by cultists and monsters in the name of the "Lord of Dominion," then saved by this mysterious spellcaster.
The man descended to the ground but did nothing further, simply waiting.
Heloise said, "Marven, keep the guards under control. No one is to act rashly. I’m going to thank that man."
Marven hesitated, then gently said, "My lady, it’s dangerous. Perhaps we should—"
But Heloise strode northward, leaving only a firm command: "I lead the Seaver family caravan. You follow orders."
Knowing he couldn’t dissuade her, Marven bowed and replied, "Yes, my lady."
Heloise quietly observed the spellcaster: he looked to be in his forties or fifties, bearded, cloaked in gray.
He exuded a unique aura—just standing there, he became the world’s center.
Though not young, his face held a striking allure. In his deep eyes, she saw a familiar emotion—contempt.
It was the contempt of those in power toward the weak—a look Heloise knew well.
"A spellcaster this strong, if not arrogant, would be more surprising."
With that thought, she curtsied and respectfully said:
"Heloise Seaver, from Victoria Port, greets you and offers heartfelt thanks. Sir Sorcerer, your selfless aid saved us. The Seaver family will reward you—"
The man cut her off in surprise: "You can tell I’m a sorcerer?"
Heloise replied honestly, "Only a sorcerer of your power would have such presence. But I’ve never seen one as strong as you."
The man smiled knowingly and chuckled, "Been too long since I mingled with common folk—missed the obvious. Though I’ve never heard of Victoria Port. A new harbor in the Silvermoon Bay area, perhaps?"
As he spoke, his aura retracted, becoming as mundane as any ordinary man.
Heloise was stunned. Her mind raced—Victoria Port had been founded four centuries ago, when the Seaver family’s ancestor was a mere fisherman.
And this powerful sorcerer had never even heard of it!
Who was he, really?
So Heloise lowered herself further and asked, "Sir, you’re a benefactor to the Seaver family. May we know your name?"
The man—Cassius—smiled gently and replied with ease:
"Miss Heloise, those pests were nothing. Not worth mentioning. As for my name... you may call me... the Hermit."