Magician in Type-Moon

Page 520

Her eyes blazed with fury, her fighting spirit almost solidifying in the air.

The moment those words were spoken, Hartres's expression changed slightly.

He held his breath briefly, as if someone had pushed him from behind, and looked at the heroic spirit.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Did I ignite her warrior spirit?"

Orange—simply tilted her head back and glanced at the ceiling.

It wasn't because there was anything worth seeing, but rather an almost exaggerated sigh.

It's as if I'm loudly proclaiming, "I knew I shouldn't have started the fire, but I still accidentally threw in the dry wood."

That was the only situation she wanted to avoid but ultimately couldn't.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it then."

"Crack."

The sound came quietly.

There was no chanting, no hymns, and not even a faint fluctuation of magic.

That's why the two of them were caught off guard.

In the blink of an eye, countless radiant runes appeared, swirling around Heartreus and his followers like falcons.

They are the seals that seal off and decouple space, and the traps that can be triggered at any moment.

Reines witnessed this from afar, and her heart nearly stopped.

She finally understood the true meaning behind Orange's slow, gentle steps as she walked through the hollow.

Those emerging trajectories, nodes, and geometric lines...

It was all runes that Orange had carved with her ankles!

What kind of skill is it exactly?

No, it can hardly be called "skill"; it's a terrifying "dominance" that ends the fight before it even begins.

“I’ve made some improvements to the ‘auto-generated runes’ I created before.”

Orange said without changing her expression, "Since returning to London, I've learned my lesson and have been carrying a few more sets of... emergency runes with me."

Rune magic is an ancient art form that was once considered extinct.

With its mysterious decline, this art form, along with its magical foundation, collapsed and was listed as a lost heritage in modern times.

Many people once believed that this kind of magic would only survive in fragments and incomplete records in a very small number of families, and would eventually turn into dust in history.

But all of this was rewritten after a certain name appeared.

Aozaki Orange.

It was she who revived runic magic.

This will allow this forgotten language to return to the bell tower's pulpit and reappear on the stage of battle.

For this achievement, the Clock Tower bestowed upon her the title of "Grand".

It is not a badge of honor, but irrefutable evidence of the pinnacle of technology.

Now, the runes etched on her ankles are multiplying.

one hundred.

five hundred.

one thousand.

The torrent of words engulfed the two figures in front of them like an avalanche.

The runes ignited in the air, forming a magical array that could not be ignored.

That was neither a simple attack nor a symbolic display of intimidation.

The name Thor corresponds to lightning.

The name of the god of fire responds to the raging flames.

What she invoked were words prepared for the burning of beings at the level of "heroic spirits".

True magic in the age of gods.

The next instant, the firestorm engulfed everything.

Illuminating the darkness, engulfing the corridors, scorching like an apocalyptic apocalypse.

however.

Just as all of this was about to be completed, a clear yet sharp shout pierced through the flames:

"Faker──!"

The servant whispered another name.

“Illness, ‘Aello’”.

What followed was a barely audible gust of wind.

It is not a whooshing sound that cuts through the air, but a low murmur that is close to the eardrums and the soul, like a spell.

As soon as that wind blew by—

Even a gentle swipe extinguished the thousands of runic flames that covered the entire hall.

It was neither suppressed nor eliminated.

Rather, they were cursed.

The servant stood on the ground where the embers had died down, and calmly responded:

"The idea of ​​burning heroic spirits in the name of God is quite good. As for the number of flames you have, it is also impeccable."

Her lips curled slightly upwards, but there was no hint of a smile.

"But since you are facing me, who has 'summoned a fragment of the god,' don't you think the superiority or inferiority of the spell was already clear from the beginning?"

She gave Orange no chance to catch her breath.

"Hail Fern 'Nereides'"

If the name just recited belonged to the Gorgon in Greek mythology—a monster that inherited the blood of the gods—the name this time is the general term for the goddess of water in Greek mythology.

The moisture in the air instantly froze, binding the Grand Magician's limbs.

Chapter 575 The Struggle Between Modernity and the Age of Gods (4k)

"Haha! The high-speed divine incantation of a magician from the mythological era!"

Despite being restrained, Orange remained calm and composed, a defiant smile playing on her lips.

“Ignoring the mysterious intensity and hierarchy, all magic can be cast simply by chanting a short verse of ‘One Count’! This isn’t cheating, it’s practically a ‘bug’... No, in the original sense, it should be the other way around.”

Her words were filled with an unconventional ease, as if difficulties were nothing more than another kind of fun for her.

However, despite having her limbs bound by water magic, Orange's movements never ceased.

She suddenly let out a sharp whistle that echoed throughout the space.

As the whistle echoed, a crystal mayfly landed on Orange's shoulder like a thin feather.

This mayfly was not alone; other mayflies followed closely behind, gathering in a swarm, like a transparent crystal tower surrounding the magician.

Those were cold, delicate creatures that constituted the orange's magical "equipment".

As each mayfly gathers, the crystal swarm subtly transforms into a hardened cannon-like shape.

Like sharp blades, they pointed mercilessly at the imposter and Hartles, as if to tear everything apart.

"You magicians of the mythical era probably couldn't even imagine something like this, could you? A transforming and combining toy."

Orange's tone was full of mockery and sarcasm.

Her gaze shifted to Hartress, a mixture of curiosity and amusement in her eyes:

"There should be Transformers for sale in the UK, right? I remember that series originated in your country."

A hint of surprise flashed in Hartres's eyes, but he quickly nodded with a smile.

"Indeed, that collection is quite popular in the UK. It seems you know a lot about it."

Orange closed her eyes slightly and murmured to herself:

"Thank you, I've learned something new."

However, she did not stop.

As the mayfly's form completely changed, magic began to condense.

The cannon's interior was filled with violent energy, and every fluctuation of magic power was extremely precise.

Once released, it will be a deadly attack.

Countless clumps of magic, carrying immense energy, erupted in a short instant, hurtling out and hurtling straight toward Hartres and the imposter.

These magic bullets are controlled with extreme precision. These powerful magic clumps are so potent that if they hit their target, even an experienced magician would find it difficult to escape unscathed.

The wind howled, and a thunderous roar echoed throughout the space.

The shockwave from the explosion kicked up huge clouds of dust, as if the end of the world had arrived.

Through her unique, magical eyes, Reines keenly spotted a figure—

From the billowing dust, a figure sped out like a ferocious beast.

Before she could even react, she saw the imposter's figure vanish like the wind in the aftershocks of the explosion, utterly detached, as if completely oblivious to the destruction around him.

Hartres, standing behind her, remained unharmed, as if no threat had ever touched him.

The moment Orange realized the situation had suddenly changed, her expression turned grave, her eyes flickered, and she let out a low groan:

"—It's an anti-magic skill! No, is it an inherent skill?!"

She suddenly saw through the imposter's true abilities—