Chapter B4C73 - Brawl In The Tower
Tyron didn’t have time to identify the attacker, but since they seemed to plow into the Soldiers, he had to assume they were on his side. The most important thing was that he prevented the Noble from speaking. There had to be limits or restrictions on how they were able to wield the Divine Authority, but he didn’t know what they were.
With a final surge of magick, he felt a deep pain in his limbs as he continued to burn his health for more power. Cracks began to appear in his skin, thick blood leaking through and trailing down his limbs, soaking into his clothing, but he endured.
The anti-mage gave a furious cry as the field shattered, collapsing to her knees from the strain. Tyron grinned, his free hand rising, flashing through a series of sigils faster than the eye could follow as he spoke the words of power.
The world shivered like a struck bell as Tyron worked his will upon it. Before the Noble could take even a few steps, the Necromancer shoved his hand out and sent a streak of whirling black mist in his direction.
Nostas saw the spell twisting through the air towards him and sneered in contempt. As the fist began to coalesce in front of his face, he slashed through it with his sword. Powerful enchantments ignited along the length of the blade, powered by the perfectly spherical cores in the hilt and pommel. With a flash of light, the magick was severed, not even slowing him down.
However, the unnatural warping of the air hadn’t stopped, hadn’t ceased for a moment, as Tyron continued to cast. The Field of Death bloomed once more, enveloping the battlefield and sapping the life from every living entity within range. Thanks to his feats, a portion of that vitality found its way back to Tyron, and it was very welcome.
Now he needed to get a buff for his minions ready; they wouldn’t hold for long without it. Before he could get far into the spell, Nostas’ voice stabbed into his brain.
“Cease your prattling. By the Gods, make it so!” He bellowed.
The words stuck in Tyron’s throat as his fingers seized, the spell disintegrating before it could truly take shape. He turned to glare at the abominable Jorlin. What were the limits on their cursed authority? What sort of dominion did The Five even hold over him? There had to be a way to break it!