...
The explosion subsided as the lingering embers of the fire slowly flickered out. As the smoke cleared, a figure was revealed standing amidst the ruin.
Within minutes, the heat dissipated completely. The scale of the destruction was absolute; the remains of the abandoned house sat mired in a pool of melted glass and sand, all while the sandstorm continued to howl around them. High above, March hung in the sky, completely unscathed despite having been at the heart of his own devastating spell.
March's gaze swept the surroundings, searching for any sign of Lucian. However, between the chaotic, biting sands and the heavy residue of his own immense energy, his senses were blinded. The mana saturation in the air made Lucian's signature impossible to track.
Nearby, Lucian crouched within the storm. He held his mana tight—a feat only possible for mages with absolute internal control—masking his presence from even the keenest sensory spells. While March was blind, Lucian could still faintly sense the heavy weight of the man above, though the turbulent environment made the connection flicker like a dying candle.
Neither of them moved.
If my senses are right, he hasn't budged since that attack, Lucian thought. A smirk tugged at his lips. If he won't move, I will. I bet that spell drained him more than he's letting on.
He peered up through the stinging grit toward where March hovered, his eyes narrowed. He let out a small, dry giggle that was instantly swallowed by the wind. "This will be a battle of attrition, then."
At the same time, March was focusing on finding Lucian. Then—
"Swoosh!"
A single bolt of blue light shrieked through the howling wind. March dodged instinctively, kicking off the air to hover a few steps higher.
He's above… and that blast was freezing. March's gaze swept through the thick, swirling grit of the storm. An Ice mage. We completely contradict each other. He raised his palm, and in a blur of growth, his two-meter staff of twisted wooden vines manifested. The deep red crystal at its crown pulsed like a heartbeat. March closed his eyes, his voice cutting through the gale: "Great Monarch of heat and fire, I as your believer, grant me your strength: Blaze!"
A crimson aura erupted around him, fighting back the oppressive wall of sand. He felt his pulse hammer against his ribs as the spell took hold; his senses sharpened to a predatory edge, and his mana surged with feverish intensity. Because the spell was born of fire, the world shifted in his eyes—the blinding curtain of the sandstorm vanished, replaced by a thermal map of the sky.
Scanning like a hawk, March spotted it: a small, flickering pulse of heat floating amidst the chaotic, cold swirl of the storm.
He smirked. "Gotcha!"
He leveled his wooden staff at the signature. "Great Monarch of Heat and Fire, allow me to use your spell: Inferno Blaze!"
Twelve fireballs, each as large as a man's head, ignited in a rotating ring behind him. With a sudden roar, the sphere positioned at the "twelve o'clock" mark launched. It moved with such violent speed it became a mere streak of crimson light, boring a tunnel through the sandstorm.
The temperature was so extreme that the sand suspended in the air, the very grains whipping through the gale, instantly liquified. As the blast passed, it left a trail of "fire rain" in its wake, as thousands of molten glass droplets were caught by the wind and scattered like glowing, jagged embers.
In a few seconds, the light of the blast faded, swallowed by the roar of the storm. March watched the thermal signature in the distance. It hadn't even flinched.
He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp with disappointment. "I'm too far from him for the spell to reach."
He glanced up. The fireball he had just used had vanished, leaving eleven glowing spheres. They began to rotate slowly, shifting the next fireball into the firing position above his head. He gripped his staff tight, feeling the vulnerability of the spell's drawback. He had to wait those five to eight seconds for the rotation to complete. While waiting, he kept his gaze fixed on the figure in the sky, watching for the slightest movement.
All of a sudden—
"SHOO! SHOO! SHOO! SHOO!"
Multiple streaks of frozen blue light tore through the sandstorm from different directions. They were the same cold blasts from before, but this time they were relentless, curving through the air as if they were hunting him.
Startled, March dove through the sky, twisting and turning to dodge. But the spells followed his every move. Frustration twisted his face as he looked back; there were over a dozen now, growing thicker and colder with every second. They won't stop until they hit me... he realized. They were too large to dodge, and the air was growing brittle with frost. He needed something absolute.
"The Almighty God of Flame, I request your protection and spell: The Flames of Incineration!"
A blinding ray of crimson light erupted from March's core. He threw both hands wide, and the light snapped into a rigid, four-meter cube that completely encased him.
The spell was a high-tier level. Within this four-meter box, the temperature spiked to fifteen million degrees, a heat so absolute it mimicked the core of the sun. The sandstorm didn't just stop at the barrier; every grain of sand that touched the cube's edge disintegrated into invisible gas instantly.
Inside, the space was filled with a thick, violent crimson light. It was a chaotic side effect of the spell, an overwhelming glare that would blind any ordinary mage. However, thanks to the "Blaze" enhancement still coursing through his veins, March's vision remained sharp. He stood perfectly calm and unharmed at the center of the inferno, the only person in the world the spell wouldn't touch because he was its caster.
March ceased his flight and turned to face his pursuers. The blue ice spells slammed into the walls of the crimson cube. They didn't even have time to shatter or hiss. The moment they touched the four-meter mark, they were erased from existence, turning into nothingness before they could even get close to him.
Standing within his solar fortress, March watched the last of the ice magic vanish. As long as his mana held, he was the master of a domain that nothing could penetrate.
After the blasts vanished, March realized he had completely lost his sense of direction from all the frantic dodging. He scanned the sky, his eyes searching for that flickering heat signature, but the horizon was empty. Tsk... I lost him...
"Dispel!" he barked.
With that single word, the crimson cube vanished instantly, as if it had never existed. His feet were heavy, and the strain of flying for so long was beginning to catch up to him. He decided to descend.
Casting a high-level spell like that drained a massive portion of my mana, he thought as his boots finally touched the shifting sand.
He stood still for a moment, analyzing his surroundings. Nothing had changed; he was still trapped in the heart of the endless desert with the sandstorm howling around him. This place actually suits me, he mused. The heat doesn't affect me, and I can always melt the sand into a pool of glass if I need to. But this is a nightmare for a sensory mage. I don't know anything about my opponent except that he's an Ice mage... this is going to be hard.
March prepared to move forward, but before he could take a single step, something cold pricked the back of his neck. He flinched, startled by the sensation. He reached back with his left palm, touching the damp skin.
Water? Why would there be water in a desert?
Then, another drop splashed onto his forehead. He knit his brows together and looked up.