Age of Adepts

Without his weapons, Gorefist’s combat power was cut by over thirty percent.

It didn’t matter how fast he moved his thick, stubby legs; he would never catch up to Greem’s phantasmal movements. Moreover, the fire spells, now affected by fire penetration, provoked unbearable agony every time they hit him. The damage he was enduring was increasing exponentially.

Gorefist was a warrior who excelled at melee combat after all. Without the means to close the distance with a spellcaster, he would be kited to death.

If he still had his warhammers, Gorefist had an attack that could barely qualify as a mid-range threat. Without the warhammers, Gorefist only had a simple directional attack in his Berserk Howl!

Trying to stun the opponent with Berserk Howl and taking him down in that short duration was an insult to their intelligence. The helpless Gorefist could only chase after the flame giant like a foolish bear, all while enduring a ceaseless barrage of fire attacks.

The outcome of the battle had been decided!

The only thing that kept the ogre chieftain from falling was the thought of his two allies who were hurrying over.

Once Fahssn and Krach arrived, it would be a breeze to take down this human adept with the combined power of three Fourth Grades. At the very worst, they would be able to scare away the opponent and preserve the Ango’rosh ogres’ camp that had lasted for several thousands of years.

This conviction kept Gorefist standing in the face of the ferocious fire spells, simply refusing to keel over.

Compared to Gorefist, who was fighting very conservatively and trying his best to survive, Greem was also suffering.

He was very cautious.

On the one hand, he had to be very careful not to be caught in any of the ogre’s traps. On the other hand, he had to control the power of his attacks and ensure they didn’t exceed the ogre chieftain’s tolerance threshold. He did not want the ogre to collapse before his allies arrived.

This battle had already been decided. However, the victory of a single battle, even if it meant the death of an enemy Fourth Grade, was of no help to Greem’s real purpose on this trip.

Greem’s actions would only have meaning if they helped build on the foundation of achieving his ultimate goal!

Gorefist was not allowed to collapse.

At least, not until he drew both his allies over!

…………

There was a large, clear lake.

The surface of the water was calm and smooth. It looked as beautiful and clear as a giant sapphire in the middle of the Marsh Wetlands’ dark, damp environment.

Sage Moat stood quietly on the shore, drawing a simple array on the ground with his staff. When everything was completed, he stood at the center of the formation with his wooden staff, holding a wooden bowl half-full of water in his hands. He then started to chant an ancient and mysterious spell.

His deep, low voice rang over the transparent surface of the lake. Even though there was no wind, small ripples started to spread across the water. Seven minutes into his chanting, his tone began to turn higher, and the calm waters began to bubble like boiling water.

Near the end of Moat’s chanting, the lake’s surface started to bubble into a dense mist. The mist did not dissipate but instead gathered together to form a massive water humanoid standing a dozen meters tall.

When Moat lethargically chanted the last syllable of the spell, the wooden bowl shattered into pieces. The liquid inside the bowl entered the water-humanoid’s body as the creature opened his eyes.

The Diviner of the Water, Rauluns, Fourth Grade.

The summoning ceremony took over fifteen minutes. It was only then that Rauluns regained the full extent of his consciousness.

He lowered his head and looked at Moat, who was as tiny as a child. In his deep, magnetic, and ancient voice, Rauluns spoke.

“Moat, what is that you have awakened me from my slumber for this time? I can feel it. I have only slept for three hundred years this time. If you cannot provide me with a good reason, I will retrieve the Soul of Water I gave you and cut off the spiritual connection between us.”

He assimilated his body into a natural source of water and slowly increased his power through thousands of years of slumber. It was Rauluns’ method of cultivation and growth. However, this method was very prone to disruption by external factors in a material plane.

That was why Rauluns was in a bad mood, having been abruptly awakened from his sleep even though he and Moat were good friends of over a thousand years.

“Old friend, much has happened in the Marsh Wetlands while you were sleeping. Why don’t you sense with your power now that you are awake? The Marsh Wetlands need you. We need you. You cannot keep sleeping!” Moat shook his head bitterly as if he had no other choice.

“The Marsh Wetlands.” Rauluns paused for a moment before closing his eyes and focusing on his senses, as Moat had suggested.

As expected of a Fourth Grade Diviner of the Water. Any place with a source of water could not escape his spiritual senses, even if it were thousands of kilometers away.

He simply shut his eyes and sensed for a brief moment before opening them once more. His calm, gentle eyes were now filled with the red gleam of anger.

“Why…why is life in Marsh Wetlands withering away? Why is the water elementium of Marsh Wetlands crying in sorrow? What has happened in the Marsh Wetlands in the three hundred years I was asleep?”

Moat lifted his head, and his eyes met Rauluns’ own.

Two spiritual threads, one green and one blue, connected. Rauluns immediately understood everything that had happened in the past few hundred years.

“The magical sporepeople…a blight…a human adept…war of the Wetlands,” Rauluns’ gaze turned sharp and furious. “It seems like the source of this calamity is the magical sporepeople. It’s time to chase those people out of the Wetlands after this concludes. That said, what is with the human adept? Why do I sense an even more terrifying aura from him?”

Moat’s expression turned into an awkward one at the mention of the human adept.

“He…he’s a fire adept!”

Rauluns’ calm attitude immediately changed.

“What? Moat, you’re mad! How could you let a Fourth Grade fire adept run rampant in our Marsh Wetlands? He will inflict devastating damage to the environment. No! I must evict him immediately!”

Water and fire were at odds.

Even without meeting him, Rauluns already had a bad impression of the fire adept.

Even if Greem was blessed by Alice, he would still not provide a good impression to Rauluns. In contrast, Greem and Moat were acquaintances and even friends at this point, thanks to the favors that he had been doing him.

Otherwise, Moat would never have immediately mobilized the Fourth Grades on his side for reinforcement when he received Greem’s communications.

Of course, the main reason Greem was able to get Moat to bolster him was that his actions were in line with the Wetland’s welfare. With the same goal in mind, having an additional Fourth Grade like Greem to help them would increase their odds of exiling the sporepeople from the Marsh Wetlands!

Unfortunately, Rauluns, who Moat had specially come to awaken, clearly did not wish to get along with a fire adept. As the mediator, Moat couldn’t help but feel a headache at the thought of his difficult situation!

“Old friend, please slow down! The human adept has only come for the sporepeople’s Primal Water. There is no conflict of interest. So……”

“Very well, seeing as he has not broken any of our rules since entering the Wetlands, I won’t find trouble with him. Primal Water? The reason the losses to the Marsh Wetlands has been so heavy is very likely because the sporepeople have extracted all the water from the swamps and refined it into Primal Water. Hmph! The human adept must not be allowed to take the Primal Water with him. We will simply send him on his way with some other treasure later.”

Moat did not express an opinion on the Diviner’s suggestion. He simply sighed.

Rauluns had not come into contact with the fire adept. Naturally, he did not understand his true powers.

If Rauluns truly wanted to send the human adept away in such a dismissive fashion, the Wetlands would likely face another calamity!

Of course, with his understanding of his companion, Moat knew that arguing with Rauluns at this juncture was of no help. He could only sigh and silently begin considering how he could change Rauluns’ mind.

“Regardless, the fire adept is now fighting with Gorefist of the Ango’rosh ogres. Out of consideration of our personal benefit and our relationship to the adept, we should be helping him now. Old friend, we will have to rely on your Mist Teleportation this time!”

“No problem. I will have to lend him a hand on this one. Old friend, stand closer to me!”

Moat walked across the surface of the water and stood next to the Diviner.

“Relax your Spirit, friend. We are teleporting now.”

Rauluns shouted excitedly, and their figures dove beneath the water, vanishing without a trace.

Mist gathered in a corner of the lake fifty meters away, and two strange silhouettes appeared.

“This is the southwestern corner of Darkswamp Lake. Give me two minutes to prepare, and we can teleport again. I estimate that we should arrive near the ogres’ camp after another eleven teleportations.”

“Thank you!”

“There’s no need to. It is all for the Marsh Wetlands!”

A short moment later, water shimmered across the surface of te lake as the two figures vanished once more.