Chapter 453: A Single Spell
The sixth level marked a significant threshold for mages. It was the number of magic circles in a spell that determined its mana capacity, but the resulting power wasn’t merely additive—it was exponential. This was noticeable at lower levels, but the true impact of this growth became undeniable at the sixth level.
While a fifth-circle spell might be capable of destroying a home or attacking a group of people, a sixth-circle spell could lay waste to an entire town or village. It was the point where magic’s destructive potential began to escalate, where large-scale devastation became a terrifying reality. Even in healing magic, the difference was stark. At the sixth level, spells gained the potency to heal entire groups instead of just individuals. It was the magic of war.
Every additional circle after the sixth drastically improved a spell’s power, scale, and effect, so much so that the difference between an eighth-circle spell and a ninth-circle spell was more significant than that of the same eighth-circle spell and a first-circle one.
The seven magic circles rotating above the city of Liceria were no different. I lowered my staff with a small, tired smile as I finished the spell. The trade-off of wielding such potent magic was that it drained a caster immensely, both mentally and physically. Due to its very nature, Mana Storm exacted an even greater toll than other seventh-circle spells, sucking up nearly all the mana I could safely part with.
But even as I swayed, legs trembling, the circles released a harmonious sound, like the pure chime of a colossal bell. It swelled grandly, almost deafening, before fading, causing soldiers on both sides to look up in alarm. The magic circles of the spell froze mid-rotation, then collapsed, imploding directly into the centermost circle, directly above Liceria’s keep. The sheer amount of mana concentrated into a single point was enough to make fate itself tremble, causing small black fractures to appear in the air.
No sooner had it condensed than the point exploded outward, filling the sky with a blazing aurora of mana that dimmed even the sun. Glimmering fingers of mana streaked down like rain on the horizon, the currents so thick and powerful they could be felt more than seen.
"By the gods," Luxxa whispered, her grip on her sword growing flat.
Jenna’s jaw dropped open, her voice coming out as barely a whisper. "Is that a...a spell?"
Gith was behind me, and I couldn’t muster the energy to turn, but his silence was more deafening than either’s exclamation. It wasn’t just them that could sense the absurd levels of mana, either. Panicked shouts and screams erupted as the mana storm descended in a sea of glory, but no matter how the Brithlitian soldiers ran, it was too late.