Zack immediately shut down his sense of smell as he climbed out of the garbage. He made his way to an empty alley and tried to cast [Clean]. When the spell fizzled out, he smacked his forehead. ‘Oh yeah, the mana tank’s empty.’
Feeling the mana tank running on fumes, he transferred two of his mana cores to the clone's body. Then, he gathered some mana before giving [Clean] another shot. ‘Phew, that’s better,’ he thought, relieved. He couldn’t decide whether to thank the trash for cushioning the clone’s fall or curse it for the stench.
Pushing those random thoughts aside, he whipped up an [Invisibility] spell and took to the skies. Surveying the city, he let out a sigh of relief. Yeah, there was a lot of damage, but casualties were surprisingly low. ‘At least the city’s still standing,’ he mused. The barrier was holding up, albeit flickering, giving off the vibe that it might give out any second.
Then, he soared even higher and took a good look at the outskirts of the city. Zack couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. “Whoa… that’s brutal.” All he could see surrounding the city was like a barren wasteland. It was just flat earth, with nothing on top of it—no trees, no rocks, nada. Heck, there weren't even any mountains in sight. The land for hundreds of thousands of square kilometers had turned into a flat expanse.
Cold sweat beaded on his face. If Zack hadn’t thrown up a protective barrier around the city, it might’ve ended up like the wasteland around it—just a flat piece of nothingness. Everything inside the city would've been wiped out and blown away by the explosion. ‘Thank the stars I managed to pull it off. Thank the stars.’
Then, he split his consciousness again into four more clones and used them to scout the surrounding area. After having to juggle five clones during that intense fight earlier, handling the same number now was a piece of cake. Plus, he didn’t need to push them as hard for battle.
So, why did Zack check out the surroundings before seeing if the pope survived? Well, he had a gut feeling the pope was a goner. Not because he was certain the explosion would take him out, but because once the dust settled, Zack felt a huge weight lift off him. It was like the feeling he got after finishing off the saintess. He figured those shackles were what fate slapped on him to fight something. He should’ve guessed the enemy fate was trying to push him against was from the Holy Empire as soon as he went up against the saintess.
And after taking down the grand paladin, he felt another shackle snap. So, he was pretty sure the enemy was from the Holy Empire. ‘But wait, didn’t the grand paladin already betray the Holy Empire? Oh well, whatever,’ he thought. Anyways, the feeling when the shackle snapped after the explosion was even stronger than when he defeated the grand paladin. It was like he was completely free now. At least, that's what his gut told him. He was finally free!
Honestly, Zack was a bit skeptical at first. He couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Is that it? Wasn’t that too easy?’ But he kept his mouth shut, just in case he triggered some kind of alarm. As long as he was free, he didn’t give a hoot. That was his vibe. So, he was feeling pretty chill right about now.
He was itching to crash and just lounge around, but he knew he had to own up to what he did. So, he decided to check on the cities near the explosion first. If everything was cool, he could head straight to his bed.
After spending a whole day surveying the area, he figured out that a 300-kilometer radius around the battleground had turned into a barren wasteland. Another 100-kilometer radius was all wrecked up. Meanwhile, the rest, including the rest of the continent, got hit with earthquakes, with the ones closest to the fight getting the worst of it.
Luckily, most cities in the Fulminar Empire, which got rocked the hardest, had defensive formations, so they were all good. Beyond the empire, the earthquakes could be felt, but they weren’t too intense, and the cities could handle them even without defensive formations.
However, there was a massive issue. The 300 kilometers around the battleground didn’t just turn into a wasteland because of the trees and water getting blown away and evaporated by the explosion. There was also a ton of lightning residue left behind, making it super tough for any future life to thrive. So, the cities in this area had to be moved. And guess what? There was only one city in that zone—Tormentaheim. And guess what else? Tormentaheim was a freakin' huge city. Relocating it was gonna be a major pain.
Zack was practically tearing his hair out from stress. But then, he had a lightbulb moment. ‘Let’s just get the lightning magic tower to handle it,’ he thought, feeling like a genius.
Without wasting another second, he reached out to the other three level 2 wizards of the tower and laid out his plan. Then, Zack paused, like he remembered something. “Oh, and one more thing: both the mysterious wizard and the grand paladin made it out alive from the fight and the explosion. But don’t sweat it about the grand paladin anymore. I, uh, my buddy is pretty sure he won’t be causing any more trouble. Oh, and my buddy wanted me to tell you that the pope bit the dust too. So, we’re in the clear. And don’t forget about Tormentaheim, okay? Catch ya later!”
Without waiting for a response from the other three, Zack switched off his badge. He tucked all the clones back underground, shifted his consciousness back to his main body, dragged Fannie to bed, and crashed out, finally getting some well-deserved shut-eye.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere among the other level 2 wizards was anything but tranquil. Lady Evangeline's carefully brewed tea lay forgotten, spilled across her desk in a testament to her shock. Sir Cedric found himself tumbling from his chair, while Sir Archibald stumbled in the halls of his mansion. Such was the profound impact of Zack's news.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Despite their astonishment, not a shred of doubt lingered among them regarding Zack's words. Immediately convening a meeting in Zack's absence, they swiftly formulated plans based on the information provided, mindful of Zack's directive to relocate Tormentaheim.
Subsequently, they reached out to the other tower heads, arranging a gathering to address the crisis at hand. The reverence shown towards the lightning tower by their peers only deepened upon learning of the fate of the level 3 powerhouses. It was a respect reminiscent of the lightning tower's prime, if not even more profound.
The memory of the cataclysmic explosion they had witnessed continued to haunt their thoughts. Even the level 2 wizards of the lightning tower were shaken by the display of power, leading them to speculate that the mysterious wizard had transcended the limits of a mere level 3 wizard.
In the midst of it all, Lady Evangeline found herself invigorated. "How long has it been since we've commanded such respect? And with the threat of the Holy Empire no longer looming over us, and the mysterious wizard still on our side, perhaps the golden age of lightning magic tower is upon us once more!"
*** Southern Plain ***
In the vast expanse of the southern plains, the Serpentfang tribe reigned supreme, having brought an end to centuries of conflict among the southern tribes.
Within the grandest tent of the tribe, a solemn gathering unfolded. The chieftains of the six most influential tribes, including the Serpentfang, deliberated on a weighty matter: whether to launch an assault on the Holy Empire.
Rumors had spread that the grand paladin and the pope had vanished from both the Holy Empire and the neighboring Fulminar Empire, fueling speculation that they had perished in a clash with a mysterious wizard in the latter. Three days prior, seizing upon this uncertainty, the six tribes had convened an emergency summit.
Their strategy was set: they would test the waters with raids on the outlying towns of the Holy Empire. Finding no formidable response, they escalated to attacking the caravans traversing between cities. With neither the pope nor even level 2 paladins or grand priestesses dispatched in retaliation, the chieftains surmised that the Holy Empire was entangled in conflict with the Fulminar Empire.
To them, it seemed the opportune moment to strike and plunder the riches of the Holy Empire. Even if their conquest of the cities faltered, the spoils of their raids promised a bounty beyond measure.
Two days prior, the chieftains had been on the brink of action, but the revered leader of the Serpentfang tribe, known as the great warrior of the southern plain and a formidable level 3 powerhouse in the northern empires, had stayed their hand.
"How much longer must we wait?" The chieftain of the Bearclaw tribe thundered, his fist striking the table in frustration.
"Indeed, even if their great warrior returned from the confrontation alive, they would hardly be fit for battle against you, my lord," the chieftain of the Foxfire tribe added, echoing the sentiment.
The nods of agreement rippled among the gathered chieftains.
"I've received word—the grand paladin has returned and now holds sway over the Holy Empire," spoke the great warrior, his tone grave. "Our sources report no visible injuries upon his return."
The sounds of collective gasp were heard.
"Impossible! Surviving the ordeal of that northern sun alone is unfathomable, let alone returning unscathed. He must be feigning it," interjected the Lionheart chieftain vehemently.
The gravity of the situation weighed heavy upon the assembled leaders at the mention of the Northern Sun incident. It had been a seemingly ordinary afternoon until the horizon, barely having swallowed the sun, revealed another. A second sun emerged on the northern horizon, casting its glow across the sky—a surreal sight, as if two suns vied for dominance in the world.
They recognized the unnaturalness of the second sun, yet the magnitude of the power required to conjure it remained beyond their comprehension. Even from their distant vantage point, they could sense the overwhelming intensity emanating from the sun, a force they dared not confront directly.
In the wake of the sun's emergence came the anguished cries of the earth itself, reverberating through their very bones as they stood upon its surface. All they could do was bow low, seeking to appease the tortured soul of the land and praying for the sun's eventual retreat. But the terror of that day lingered, etched deep within their hearts.
"If you choose to proceed, do so alone. The Serpentfang tribe will not partake in this aggression," declared the great warrior, sweeping his hand dismissively before departing the tent without waiting for a response from the other chieftains.
With exchanged glances and solemn nods, the other chieftains followed suit, abandoning the notion of attack. Without the support of the formidable great warrior, assaulting the Holy Empire would indeed be tantamount to suicide with the grand paladin's possible return.
Walking among the roads of the tribes, the great warrior was pondering upon something. He hadn't achieved unity among the tribes; rather, he acted as a mediator in their conflicts, establishing and enforcing rules for all to abide by. Any tribe that defied these rules faced his swift retribution. This approach had brought relative peace to the southern tribes, fostering growth in population and, consequently, the emergence of more warriors.
While he possessed the ability to unify the tribes under one rule, he found the prospect tedious, and the Serpentfang lacked the manpower to govern a thousand tribes directly. Thus, he opted for a system of tribal alliances instead.
In adhering to the rules of this alliance, the great warrior refrained from coercing the other tribes to halt their plans against the Holy Empire. Instead, he simply withdrew from the fray, aware that without his support, their chances of success dwindled—especially now that news of the grand paladin's return had reached them.
What he concealed from the other chieftains was his own unease regarding the assault on the Holy Empire, regardless of the grand paladin's status. He harbored a deep intuition that attacking now was ill-advised. He understood better than anyone the immense power required to conjure the "second sun," realizing that its creator had far exceeded level 3. Such a formidable opponent would not fall easily, if at all. Thus, he advocated for caution, urging the tribes to observe and await developments before committing to any action.
The memory of witnessing the second sun from the southern plains still weighed heavily on the great warrior's mind, leaving him with a lingering sense of powerlessness. He shuddered to imagine the sheer intensity of standing in the presence of the sun itself. Who, he wondered, was the architect of this phenomenon? Could it be the mysterious wizard rumored to have clashed with the grand paladin?
"The fate of the continent hangs in the balance," he mused aloud, his voice heavy with contemplation. "Should this enigmatic figure choose war, they might indeed unite the continent under a single banner. Yet, if they opt for peace, it could herald the most tranquil era our land has ever known."