Chương 40: The Fireball That Should Have Killed Him

For one terrible second, Edric's heart stopped. The massive fireball swallowed the wagon, the surrounding supplies, and the place where Sieghart had been standing. Flames rose high above the camp, carrying burning fragments of wood through the air. The explosion reached Edric a moment later. Heat struck his face hard enough to force him backward, while the shock wave rattled his armor and nearly knocked the enchanted bow from his hands. Soldiers closer to the supply area were thrown across the ground.

Edric continued running. He couldn't see the wagon anymore. He couldn't see the nearby weapons or the soldiers who had been standing around Sieghart. Everything had disappeared inside a pillar of orange fire and white steam. No ordinary person could survive such an attack. The flames would carbonize an adult soldier before he had time to scream, and Sieghart's body was that of a five-year-old child. Edric knew that Sieghart could use magic.

He had seen the boy withstand falls and strike solid objects without suffering serious injuries. That didn't matter. Protection wasn't supposed to stop an attack powerful enough to destroy an entire supply area. Even experienced Aura users would need defensive skills, enchanted shields, and remarkable luck to survive a direct hit. Edric's thoughts emptied. For an instant, there was no battlefield, no retreating enemy, and no responsibility toward the fighters under his command.

There was only the burning place where his grandson had been. He remembered Elara holding Sieghart's hand before their departure. He remembered promising that he would bring the boy home safely. He remembered telling Sieghart not to approach the battlefield, as if distance alone could protect him from an enemy capable of launching fire across hundreds of meters. Edric had known that bringing him here was wrong. He had allowed duty, orders, and the authority of House Emberhart to overcome his judgment.

Now, the child entrusted to him had vanished beneath an attack intended for veteran soldiers.

"SIEG!" The name tore from Edric's throat, but the explosion drowned his voice beneath the roar of flames. He ran faster, ignoring the heat burning through the soles of his boots. The fire began collapsing inward. Steam spread across the camp, concealing the remains of the wagon behind a dense white cloud. Edric entered it without slowing, covering his face with one arm as the moisture scalded his skin. He expected to find nothing recognizable. Then something moved above the smoke.

A small silhouette emerged from the steam several meters above the ground. Its arms and legs spread awkwardly as it descended with unnatural slowness. Edric stumbled. The figure dropped another meter before a weak blast of wind erupted beneath it. The spell turned what should have been a painful fall into an unsteady landing. Sieghart struck the ground with one foot, leaned too far sideways, and caught himself with both hands. The result lacked dignity, but he remained in one piece.

Steam poured from his clothing and skin. His crimson hair had been drenched, leaving the golden-tipped fringe plastered across his forehead. Parts of his shirt had become dark from water, but the cloth hadn't burned away. There were no wounds. No blackened flesh covered his arms. His face remained unharmed, his green eyes remained focused, and he moved without showing any sign of broken bones. Somehow, Sieghart had survived an attack that would have reduced most adult men to charcoal.

Edric felt his heart begin beating again. The first beat struck so violently that it hurt. The next came faster, followed by several more until his chest felt ready to burst. His knees nearly gave out beneath him. Sieghart remained crouched for several seconds while steam continued rising from his body. He looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers, and checked his arms as though confirming that every part remained attached. Then he released a long breath.

"That was intense." Edric reached him before he could stand. He grabbed Sieghart by the shoulders and examined him from every angle. His hands moved over the boy's arms, back, head, and chest while he searched for wounds hidden beneath the wet clothing. Sieghart endured the inspection for several seconds.

"Grandpa, I think I'm fine."

"You think?"

"I haven't had time to perform a complete examination." Edric pulled him into a crushing embrace before Sieghart could make another dry remark. The force pushed the remaining air from the boy's lungs. Sieghart froze. His grandfather wasn't usually affectionate in such an overwhelming way. Edric would ruffle his hair, pat his shoulder, or praise him after a successful harvest, but he rarely abandoned restraint completely. Now, his arms trembled around Sieghart. The realization silenced every complaint.

Sieghart allowed himself to remain there while the fires crackled around them. He could feel Edric's heart hammering through the man's armor. For a moment, the battlefield disappeared behind the relief of knowing that both of them were still alive. Then Edric pulled away and gripped Sieghart's shoulders again. Relief changed into anger so quickly that the transition would have been impressive under different circumstances.

"What happened?" Sieghart looked toward the burning remains of the wagon. Almost nothing remained except broken wheels, blackened metal, and scattered pieces of wood. His water had prevented the flames from spreading farther into the camp, but most of the weapons and supplies nearest the impact had been destroyed.

"I stopped part of it."

"With what?"

"A water wall." Edric looked at the crater, then at his grandson.

"You have a spell capable of stopping that?"

"I do now." The answer didn't improve his expression. Sieghart turned his attention inward and reconstructed the moment before the impact. Everything had happened too quickly for conscious planning, yet he remembered the sensations clearly. When the enormous fireball approached, Sieghart had tried to create another water sphere. There hadn't been enough time to gather the same volume he had used against the enemy formations.

Instead of forming the water above himself, he had released it directly in front of the wagon. His panic had compressed the spell into a thick vertical barrier. The fireball struck before the wall became stable. Most of the water evaporated instantly, producing the cloud of steam now spreading through the supply area. The collision weakened the flames but did almost nothing against the physical force of the explosion. That should have killed him. Protection had reacted at the final moment.

The spell normally covered Sieghart's body with an invisible layer of mana that reduced physical damage. He maintained it almost constantly, although the effect remained relatively simple. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. When the fireball struck the water wall, something changed. Sieghart felt the mana beneath his skin adopt the same calm, fluid nature he used for Water Creation.

The protective layer became colder and denser, spreading the remaining heat across his entire body instead of allowing it to concentrate at the point of impact. At the same time, the spell softened the force throwing him through the air. Sieghart had added wind propulsion instinctively, slowing himself before he struck the ground. Three separate reactions had saved him. The water wall absorbed most of the heat.

Protection adapted to whatever remained, and wind prevented the explosion from turning his landing into the final attack. Any single spell would have failed. Together, they had allowed him to survive. Sieghart looked at the steam leaving his arms.

"The water wall appeared faster than I expected. I've never tried something like that before." Edric continued staring at him. His grandfather's expression shifted from anger to confusion. Edric understood farming magic and enchanted weapons, but the system's separation between Black and White Magic remained unknown to him. He didn't know about the system at all. Sieghart closed his eyes and summoned the status screen. Black Magic remained at Level Three.

Its elemental paths hadn't changed, although the Water Magic branch felt more responsive than it had before the battle. Sieghart moved his attention toward White Magic. Protection remained beneath the Support branch. [Protection — Level 2] Nothing else appeared. There was no Water Protection, Elemental Barrier, or Adaptive Defense. The skill description hadn't changed, and the system offered no notification explaining what had happened. Sieghart focused upon the spell.

The familiar layer of mana remained beneath his skin, but he could sense something different within its structure. Protection no longer felt like an unchangeable technique. It felt empty. The spell provided a shape, while Sieghart supplied the mana filling it. Until now, he had always used neutral mana because he hadn't considered another possibility. During the explosion, panic had caused him to fill Protection with water-aligned mana.

The spell had adopted the element's characteristics without becoming an entirely new skill. Sieghart raised one hand. He focused upon the calm intention used for Water Creation and directed that feeling into Protection. A faint coolness spread beneath his skin. There was no visible glow, but drops of moisture gathered across his fingertips. The effect vanished when his concentration slipped. Sieghart's eyebrows rose. I changed it. Sieghart frowned. The elemental nature of Protection. I think.

I did it by accident while expecting to be burned alive. It wasn't an ideal testing environment. Edric's hands tightened around his shoulders. Sieghart recognized the warning and decided not to make another joke about nearly dying. He returned his attention to the spell. Protection belonged to White Magic, but it had responded to an element governed by Black Magic. That meant the categories weren't completely isolated. The system presented them as separate trees, perhaps because their purposes differed.

Black Magic manipulated external elements, while White Magic reinforced or supported the body. However, mana remained mana. If Sieghart could give Protection the nature of water, he might be able to apply fire, earth, or wind as well. Each element could produce a different defensive effect. Earth might strengthen the barrier against physical attacks. Wind could redirect projectiles or soften impacts. Fire might protect him against cold, although experimenting with flames beneath his own skin sounded unpleasant.

Water had protected him against heat. The discovery could become more valuable than a new spell. Instead of relying upon one defensive technique for every situation, Sieghart might adapt Protection to whatever threatened him. His panic had revealed the possibility. His increased Black Magic level might have made the process easier. The pulse he felt after reaching Level Three had improved his elemental control, allowing the water-aligned mana to respond before conscious thought caught up.

The interaction explained why Protection had performed far beyond its normal limits without leveling. He hadn't strengthened the original spell. He had changed how it functioned. Apparently, nearly being vaporized is an effective method of magical research. I should find a safer teacher. Sieghart wanted to test the discovery immediately, but the distant sounds of battle pulled his attention back toward the front line. The defenders had lost their momentum.

When the massive fireball struck the wagon, soldiers across the battlefield turned toward the explosion. Some believed their supply area was under attack, while others saw the child assisting them disappear beneath the flames. Archers stopped firing. Aura users near the front retreated several steps, unwilling to advance without support. Officers shouted for everyone to maintain formation, but the confusion had already spread. The Firians used the opportunity immediately.

Those still fighting released walls of flame to block pursuit, while the injured moved toward the eastern hills. Several stronger warriors remained behind, covering the retreat with fire punches. The defenders resumed attacking, but their hesitation had given the Firians enough distance. Enchanted arrows struck the rear guard while the majority escaped beyond effective range. Sieghart clicked his tongue. They had been close to turning the battle into a decisive victory.

A few more water spheres might have trapped enough enemies for the Aura users to break the entire attacking force. The massive fireball changed everything. It hadn't only targeted Sieghart because he was dangerous. The attack had disrupted the defenders at exactly the correct moment and allowed the Firians to withdraw. Whoever launched it had recognized both the immediate threat and the broader battlefield situation. That required experience. Possibly leadership.

"Their leader might have attacked me." Edric followed his gaze toward the eastern hills. His relief disappeared beneath a harder expression as he realized what Sieghart meant.

"You don't know that."

"No. But ordinary soldiers weren't throwing fireballs that large yesterday."

"Then you have another reason to stop standing where the entire enemy army can see you." Sieghart couldn't argue with that. Climbing upon the wagon had provided an excellent view, but it had also turned him into the most visible target behind the defensive line. The enormous water spheres made concealment impossible. Every Firian capable of looking upward could trace their path directly back to him. Unfortunately, Sieghart hadn't seen the person responsible for the attack.

The fireball emerged from behind the distant hills, beyond the ordinary attacking formation. Smoke and darkness concealed anyone standing there. Sieghart had been too busy surviving to study the spell's origin. Even now, his eyes found only scattered flames moving across the retreat route. He wished that he had seen the attacker. Understanding the enemy's appearance, position, or casting method might reveal something useful.

If their leader required several minutes to create such a large attack, the defenders could prepare for the next one. If the spell could be launched instantly, Sieghart would need a much better defensive plan. The water wall had saved him once, but he couldn't depend upon panic producing the correct spell every time. His success involved too many untested reactions and far too much luck. Next time, the attacker might use a faster fireball. They might target Edric instead.

That thought erased the last trace of satisfaction from Sieghart's survival. He had become a recognized threat, and the enemy wouldn't necessarily continue attacking him directly. They could target the people around him, destroy his supply of weapons, or force him to choose between protecting himself and protecting the camp. Sieghart looked at the remains of the wagon. Several enchanted weapons had survived because their metal frames resisted the heat, but many were damaged beyond immediate use.

Soldiers were already attempting to extinguish the surrounding fires. His water spheres had changed the battle. The enemy had changed in response. This was no longer a simple matter of repeating the same strategy until one side ran out of fighters. Both armies were learning from each exchange. Edric turned Sieghart away from the battlefield and began guiding him toward the tents. His hand remained firmly upon the boy's shoulder, as though releasing him might invite another fireball.

"You're not doing anything tonight." Sieghart considered arguing, but one look at his grandfather's face convinced him otherwise. Edric had watched the wagon disappear and believed Sieghart was dead. Forcing him to endure another reckless display tonight would be needlessly cruel. Besides, Sieghart needed time to examine Protection properly. If he could reproduce the elemental adaptation intentionally, his chances of surviving the next attack would increase dramatically.

The Firians disappeared beyond the eastern hills. The defenders hadn't lost as many people as they had during the first battle, but they had failed to destroy the attacking force. Most surviving enemies would heal, gather more heat, and return with a new plan. Sieghart glanced back at the scorched crater. He had survived. The camp had held. Neither fact meant they had won. Somewhere beyond the hills, an enemy powerful enough to create that fireball now knew that Sieghart existed.

The next attack would be designed with his magic in mind. Sieghart's eyes narrowed. The war wasn't over. For him, it had only become personal.