The Greatest Archmage To Have Ever Lived [OP MC, LitRPG]

All of them, bullets and bolts, frozen mid-flight in a dozen perfectly straight lines. They hung there in the air between Sael and the secretary, motionless, like someone had painted them into reality and forgotten to add the part where they kept moving.

The guards' faces went through several stages of reaction in rapid succession. First came confusion, eyebrows drawing together, heads tilting slightly as their brains tried to process what they were seeing. Then comprehension, that dawning realization that something had interfered with their attack. Then shock, eyes widening as they understood what level of magic would be required to stop that many projectiles simultaneously without so much as a hand gesture.

The secretary had gone very still where she knelt on the floor, one hand braced against the carpet, the other clutched to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the frozen bullets hanging in the air between them, and her breathing had gone quick and shallow.

One of the younger guards near the back had gone pale enough that Sael could see it even from this distance. Another guard's mouth had fallen open slightly, his rifle still raised but his grip on it loose enough that it was starting to dip toward the floor.

For a moment, just a moment, nobody moved.

...Then the guards started reloading.

Sael felt disbelief wash over him.

It was so profoundly unreasonable that he couldn't quite process it. What were they thinking? That the second volley would somehow work better?

Several guards had finished reloading now, raising their weapons again with grim determination.

This was getting ridiculous.

"[Mass Telekinesis]."

The weapons moved before anyone could fire. Smooth, irresistible displacement lifted every weapon from their hands simultaneously, floating them upward toward the ceiling in a gentle current. Rifles, crossbows, even the backup pieces strapped to belts, all of them rose out of reach and hung there alongside the frozen projectiles.

The guards lunged instinctively. One actually jumped, trying to catch his crossbow, and missed by two feet. The young guard who'd gone pale earlier made a sound between a gasp and a whimper, pressing himself flat against the wall.

"My apologies," Sael said, keeping his voice calm. "That was not meant to frighten anyone further, but I couldn't allow another volley that might have hit your secretary by accident."

The secretary made a small sound from where she still knelt on the floor.

Sael looked at the guards' terrified faces and felt himself starting to overthink. He should probably say something. Try to calm them down, explain the situation. Though, when he actually thought about it, their reaction wasn't entirely unreasonable, was it? Unknown mage, destroyed office, casual display of power—that was threatening from their perspective.

And mages could be quite dangerous. Everyone knew that. So losing your composure when facing one wasn't completely incomprehensible.

Maybe he should explain about Ilsa. About the assassination attempt. Except they'd have to verify everything anyway and probably wouldn't just take his word for—

Footsteps.

Heavy boots on stone, multiple sets of them, moving quickly down the corridor outside. Voices came with them, urgent and overlapping.

"—heard weapons fire—"

"—unknown mage, captain said—"

"—seal the corridor—"

The guards in the room turned toward the sound, relief and renewed anxiety mixing on their faces.

The footsteps rounded the corner.

Four people appeared in the doorway.

Sael recognized two of them immediately. Young Ilsa came first, her clothes looking distinctly out of place against the Academy's polished stone walls. Behind her was Orion, still wearing that same nervous energy he'd had when Sael had sent them both off to deliver messages.

Good. They'd found who they were supposed to find.