Trinity of Magic

“What should we do, Master?”

Hearing Vulcanos’s question, Zeke’s gaze traveled over the sea of faces.

He saw fear. Pleading. The sheer terror that came from facing someone vastly more powerful than themselves. Their spirits had been broken. When the disparity in strength reached such a level, not a single thought of resistance remained.

Only surrender.

Hundreds of elite Mages remained alive. If taken prisoner, their value would likely exceed what an average Merchant Lord could earn in a year.

And yet, despite knowing that, the thought caused a heavy feeling to well up in the pit of Zeke’s stomach.

These people…

After what they had done in Rukia, they still had the nerve to beg for mercy?

Where had that mercy been when they burned a path of destruction through cities and villages? Where had that mercy been when they slaughtered young and old alike? Where had that mercy been when they watched him burn alive mere minutes ago?

And yet, now that the roles were reversed, they simply fell to their knees and expected to be spared.

It disgusted him.

Not because he failed to understand why they had done what they had done. They were soldiers. They had orders. He understood command, duty, and obedience better than most.

But obedience did not erase responsibility.

After the wholesale slaughter of an entire people, the mere thought of releasing these men and women for ransom almost made him nauseous.

They had used overwhelming power to decide who lived and who died. They had burned homes, families, and entire futures to ash because they had been strong enough to do so.

Now that same logic had come for them.

But even if Zeke ignored his anger, how could he ever face the thousands of displaced refugees, people who weren’t even left with an intact body to remember their loved ones by?

Fathers without sons. Daughters without mothers. Survivors left searching through ash for anything that could still be buried.

Could he really stand in front of these people and tell them that he had let the killers of their families go?

The thought settled inside him like a stone.

Zeke looked away from the pleading mages and met Vulcanos’s gaze.

“No prisoners.”

Vulcanos’s eyes widened.

Evidently, that was not what he had expected to hear. But it only took a single moment for his astonishment to vanish, replaced by a kind of suppressed excitement.

Without another word, he turned his gaze forward, looking down at the figures who had suddenly gone deathly still.

Zeke’s voice hadn’t been quiet. They had all heard his order.

But none of them moved. They merely stared at him with expressions of utter bewilderment, as if this outcome hadn’t even been within the realm of what they thought possible.

That only lasted until Vulcanos moved.

With a snap of his fingers, the ground beneath their feet cracked, and pockets of hot air singed their eyebrows.

Only then did they awake from their stupor.

“WAIT!”

“NO!”

“YOU CAN’T JUST…”

It was too late. The solid ground beneath their feet softened, stone melting into sludge and then into magma. There was no outrunning it.

Before they could take a single step, their feet had already sunk halfway in. Steam hissed from the soles of their boots. Robes caught fire. Hands clawed at the air, at each other, at anything that might pull them free.

Screams of utter agony filled the area as hundreds of men were swallowed by the molten earth.

Their cries were agonizing.

And incredibly short-lived.

After no more than a few seconds, the area had become deathly still, the contrast making the silence all the more deafening.

Vulcanos inhaled once, seemingly sucking in the heat of his own creation. Immediately, the area that had looked like an active volcano only moments ago cooled into blackened stone.

Stolen story; please report.

Not even bones remained.

The sight caused a shudder to run down Zeke’s spine.

Despite all his experiences, despite his own formidable strength, this was still a level of power he had never direcly encountered before.

So, this was the strength of a Progenitor.

For the first time, Zeke truly understood what that meant. This was not merely another powerful ally. This was not another Archmage, nor even something that could be judged by the same scale.

This was the pinnacle of power on the continent.

A being that could contend with rulers and kings.

Zeke slowly swept his gaze around.

Only then did he notice that the eerie silence hadn’t just been caused by the death of these few men. The entire battlefield had stilled.

Even the ferocious battle between Archmages had stopped.

In the very distance, Zeke could see the figure of Rhea. Half of her body was covered in ghastly burns, and even her face showed signs of having been struck. But at this moment, even she had paused her fight, staring in this direction with wide eyes.

David, even more injured and breathing heavily, stood frozen on the spot. His opponent, not too far away, seemed to have stopped mid-spell, his hand still hanging awkwardly in the air.

The same was true for all the others.

Irisen. Raileh. Zelkara. The Bloodguard. The Fleshmages. The summoners.

Allies and enemies alike had come to a complete halt. Some stared in horror. Others in disbelief.

Ah.

Zeke realized it then.

With Vulcanos present, their battles had become utterly meaningless. Victory was no longer the question. Survival was.

Zeke turned back to Vulcanos, the centerpiece of all this change. The monster who had just ended hundreds of lives with a snap of his fingers was currently looking at him with the expression of a puppy expecting praise.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

But soon, he recomposed himself, putting on an expression of mock sternness. “What are you doing?” he questioned.

Vulcanos’s face turned into a question mark. He rubbed his head somewhat sheepishly, looking from Zeke to the area where the Fire Mages had just been. “Wasn’t I supposed to kill them?”

Zeke shook his head. “Not that.” He then swept his gaze around again, stopping at the location of the few Archmages still engaged in battle with his own side. “Didn’t I tell you to leave no prisoners?”

Vulcanos followed his gaze, his eyes lighting up momentarily when he saw the Fire Mage standing opposite Rhea.

“Everyone?” he asked, just to make sure.

Zeke nodded calmly. “Everyone.”

Vulcanos was just about to charge, but paused at the last moment. His eyes roamed over Zeke’s body, a hint of worry crossing his face. “Are you going to be fine on your own, Master?”

Zeke shook his head and pointed upward.

At some unknown time, the Alexandria had made its way over, hovering protectively overhead. Though the ship was far from its peak state, its remaining shields and attack arrays could still offer some protection.

“I’ll be fine.”

Needing no further assurance, Vulcanos darted off.

Zeke tried to follow his figure, but found that he could barely keep his eyes on him the moment he left his Sphere of Awareness. In less than a handful of seconds, Vulcanos had already appeared before his first target.

As expected, it was the Fire Mage facing Rhea.

What followed was an even more miserable beatdown. Apparently realizing that time was of the essence, Vulcanos didn’t play any games. His approach was straightforward and utterly ruthless. After no more than a few exchanges, the miserable cry of the man rang out, bringing the total number of dead Archmages to two.

Meanwhile, the other battles had resumed, but their nature had fundamentally changed. Where the Legion had constantly suppressed their counterparts before, they now only had a single objective in mind: to run away.

On the other hand, his allies, who had been suppressed for the entirety of the fight, were now doing everything in their power to tie down their feet.

The roles had been completely reversed, but the battles seemed to have grown even more desperate.

After all, everyone understood that a single second of delay could result in their death.

Zeke looked on with a sense of regret.

The Archmages were fleeing.

If he had the strength, he would have been the ideal candidate to pursue them. With his skill set, there were few people better suited to harassing enemies in retreat.

Unfortunately, he was utterly drained.

Now that Vulcanos had departed, he didn’t even have the strength to put on a front anymore. He took a deep, shuddering breath. The crisp air stung as it traveled down his scorched throat, and even more when it fully inflated his lungs.

“Ah. This sucks.”

His entire body was in pain.

From his haphazardly regrown skin to the damage to his internal organs, he was in a truly miserable state.

When was the last time he had been this injured?

To buy even a second longer for Vulcanos, he hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice his own body. His lips twitched into a crooked smile, only for the motion to pull painfully at the cracks around his mouth.

Despite his recent breakthroughs, despite all the progress he had made, he was still far too weak. When faced with a genuine Archmage powerhouse, he had been as helpless as a child. Everything he had, all his trump cards, even using his Draconic Blood to summon the swarm, had only been enough to buy a few minutes.

His hands balled into fists. The barely regrown skin split open again, and fresh blood trickled to the ground.

“Progenitor,” a voice came from close by.

Zeke turned and found Zelkara kneeling before him. Blood ran down one side of her face where an eye had once been, and one of her arms hung at an unnatural angle. Despite that, not a trace of pain could be seen on her face as she looked at him with her sole remaining eye.

“Your orders?”

The fog miring his thoughts cleared in an instant.

Right.

This wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. There were things that needed doing, people who needed his guidance. With every second he wasted, the opportunity to capitalize on the situation slipped further away.

His gaze turned to the distance. It was the direction of the headquarters, the direction from which he still felt the mental suppression that prevented the use of [Telepathy]. If the enemy command was anywhere, it would be there.

“Gather everyone who can still fight and attack their headquarters,” he commanded. “Don’t risk your life, but try your best to hold out until Vulcanos arrives.”

“As you command, Progenitor.”

Zelkara rose and charged off in the direction Zeke had indicated. The remaining Bloodguard, arriving in scattered groups, followed her without a sound.

Zeke frowned when he counted their numbers. There had been hundreds of them once. Now, only dozens remained. Despite the ultimate result, his side had paid no small price in this battle.

His gaze then traveled to the Alexandria above.

She, too, was in a miserable state. Her hull was scorched, parts of her frame were warped, and thin trails of smoke still leaked from several damaged sections.

It was quite ironic, actually.

After all his preparations, after months of gathering strength, allies, and weapons, what had truly won him the battle in the end had been that arbitrary decision to bestow Vulcanos with his blood.

It almost felt as if fate was mocking him.

Even so, the thought of how the Legion high command must feel at that moment made him feel a lot better. Those people had planned even more, had schemed far deeper, and had prepared for this war with far greater care.

But in the end, hadn’t it all been for nothing?

Chuckling softly, Zeke took a tentative step in the direction Zelkara had vanished. With a bit of luck, he might get to see their dumbfounded faces for himself.