Dodge, weave, barrier.

Again, again, again.

The lithe bodies of the two female eighth-circle mages, Elara and Jill danced with a desperate grace amongst the black tendrils of the eldritch tree that sought them no matter how fast they moved.

The two archmages present were in an equally desperate dilemma. With the Infinity surrounding them, no tendrils could get close, posing a drain to the mages of the archmages being the limit of the tendrils. Yet, they had an equally pressing matter to be concerned with.

Archmage Seraphina!

Undefended and tied down by the maintenance of the barrier, she was akin to a lone paralyzed doe surrounded by lions that were the tendrils.

Without her reinforcement, the large isolation barrier was only strong enough to withstand a single ninth circle spell. Just the collateral damage from the battle above her would be sufficient to reduce the barrier to mere shreds.

Hers was not a duty that could be forsaken, and she would not. She was prepared to entrust her life to her comrades!

The role of the two archmages surrounded by Infinity was to juggle Archmage Seraphina to protect her from the tendrils. They alternated various second or third circle wind-based spells to push her to the other as fast as possible and when desperate, would even rely on their veteran-ranked mana reinforcement to throw her to the other archmage. Of course, Seraphina began to get dizzy, but she was better dizzy than dead.

Amongst all this, the archlich with the pitch-black monstrosity of a tree twirled around it gazed down arrogantly. By now, the archlich figured out that it was merely being stalled, and that those before it at the moment had no intention to seriously oppose it.

It scoffed.

“What a farce.”

Its mana began revving up once more.

All five mages below it instantly went on high alert. Yet, they could do nothing but grit their teeth in frustration. They simply lacked the capabilities to escape their circumstances. They could only watch as the archlich casted its spell.

‘Eighth Circle - Dismantle!’

With a massive mobilization of mana rivaling the entire pool of an archmage, it cast a single spell. But just that single spell flipped the chessboard. The powerful spatial lock had been dismantled.

Instantly, the mages took note of the change to the space around them and began to act. Archmage Lirael no longer bothered with simple wind spells to toss Archmage Seraphina about and began to blink about the sphere with her hand on Archmage Seraphina’s shoulder. As the pair blinked about, Archmage Draven understood his role and expanded his infinity to the bottom half of the sphere with a forceful outpouring of his mana beyond his capabilities. The expanded infinity, though immobilizing Jill and Elara, also served to protect them as the tendrils in the bottom half of the sphere could not move either. The two did not put on airs about the blood that escaped the overexerted Archmage Draven's mouth, and made use of the little time that was bought for them by Archmage Draven by also pushing themselves.

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‘Combo Spell: Ninth Circle - Drop of the Divine!’

Combination spells were no easy feats on the Calysta continent. After all, combination spells were boasted the ability to cast a spell above the rank of the caster. Not just that, when performed in perfect synchronization by mages rigorously trained for it or with high chemistry, two inferior mages could produce power an entire order of magnitude above what they could do alone in strategic value. But with two barely familiar with each other as fellow ex-citizens of the same country…

At almost the exact same time, both eighth circle mages threw up a large quantity of blood, the backlash of the imperfect combo spell lashing at them. Right as the blood began to pour out of their mouths, they also fainted, having drained their entire mana pool with one spell.

“Good job, you two. You’ll be promoted for this. Unfortunately, not by me, since I would not be around to witness it. Haha.”

He allowed the two bodies to fall as he once again retracted infinity to only himself. The falling bodies were intercepted by the female archmage pair that immediately blinked away somewhere else in the sphere.

The golden drop, seemingly insignificant for the product of the combo ninth circle spell, seeped into Archmage Draven’s body. And then, another outpouring of mana followed him. Within him, his internal organs were rapidly consumed as the drop of divinity converted his internal organs to pure, rampant holy mana. His spirit swelled and his irises turned golden. Out of every orifice on his face, blood began to seep out, but he paid no mind.

This was a forbidden spell of the church, only possible due to the knowledge of both Jill von Arlus, daughter of Duke Aeliana, former heir of the Arlus territory and Princess Elara of Eldoria, both of whom had possessed a high standing in the nation of Eldoria, that they were able to draw on their knowledge of the Church’s restricted knowledge stolen by them. The spell, though taxing on a body, was not fatal. With the constitution of a veteran-rank warrior in Draven, he would survive as long as he sought prompt treatment after the spell expired. But Archmage Draven did not have the leeway to think about escaping in one piece today.

The archlich still had much more up its metaphorical sleeves. It was nowhere near exhausted. The way it was going, it would be a pipe dream to hope for them to stall the archlich here and contain it within the sphere. Technically, their job was over. By now, Noah and Evan were meant to take over. However, all mages present understood that something had gone wrong, and the two would not be arriving. In that case, they had to hold out as long as possible, even if it came at a hefty cost.

What was an archmage's last stand like? One had to remember that all archmages contained within them a wealth of forbidden spells, spells that would ruin the caster when used. It was during a last stand that the true strength of an archmage would reveal itself.

Archmage Darven cast his gaze upwards, through the twisting, whirling and whizzing black tendrils, past the countless pitch-black eyes of the tree, into the hollow eyes of the archlich hidden in the shadow of its robe.

He felt none of the pain of the divinity not meant for an unblessed to withstand, the adrenaline reducing the whitening pain of his melting internal organs to a mere afterthought.

Archmage Draven smiled, and at that moment, the archlich felt like it was looking at a fellow pair of hollow eyes.