Chương 47: The Clay Coffin

Sieghart pushed both hands forward and launched the massive mud sphere. The spell moved more slowly than his previous water attacks. Its enormous weight pulled it downward, forcing Sieghart to maintain control over the arc while Wind Magic supported its flight. The rotating mass crossed above the defenders. Mud dripped from its surface in heavy streams, striking tents and splashing soldiers below. Several people shouted in surprise, but nobody attempted to stop the spell. The Firians noticed the growing shadow.

Those at the front looked upward and slowed their advance. Some spread apart, while others raised glowing arms to protect their heads. They had already learned what happened when Sieghart's water spheres struck their formations. However, the camp's cramped paths prevented them from scattering as effectively as they had across the open battlefield. The spell descended toward a large group. Several Firians punched upward.

Blasts of heated air struck the sphere before it landed, tearing water and mud from its outer layers. Clouds of steam erupted above them, but the remaining mass continued falling. The mud ball struck. Its surface collapsed across the enemy formation, burying dozens of Firians beneath a spreading wave of dark soil and water. The impact shook the ground and flattened several nearby tents. Sieghart expected to see bodies thrown through the air. None of the Firians fell.

Their enhanced strength allowed them to endure the impact. Some bent beneath the sudden weight, but their feet remained planted against the ground. For an instant, Sieghart wondered whether the entire idea had failed. Then the mud began to change. The water touching the Firians evaporated first. White steam rose from their bodies, carrying away some of the heat stored within them. The remaining soil didn't fall away. It dried. The intense Aura surrounding the Firians transformed the wet mud into a hard shell.

Cracks spread across its surface as it tightened around their limbs, torsos, and joints. One warrior attempted to raise his arm. The hardened mud around his elbow resisted. He forced the movement, breaking part of the shell, but the effort slowed him enough for a defender to strike his exposed side. Another Firian tried to run. The thick layer surrounding his knees and ankles forced him into short, awkward steps. He stumbled after crossing less than a meter. The enemy's greatest advantage had turned against them.

Their heat removed the water, but the same process baked the remaining earth around their bodies. The stronger their Aura became, the faster the mud hardened. Sieghart stared for half a heartbeat. Then he smirked. Thank you for cooking your own restraints. The spell didn't need to knock the Firians down. It only needed to reduce their speed and restrict their movements. Against defenders equipped with spears, bows, and combat Auras, even a small delay became deadly.

The hardened mud provided far more than a small delay. The green-Aura spearman entered the trapped group. His weapon became a blur as he targeted enemies unable to dodge properly. The first Firian received a spear through the throat before breaking the shell around his shoulders. The second raised one arm, but the hardened mud pulled against his elbow. The spearhead pierced his chest and withdrew before his other hand became free. The golden archer understood the opportunity immediately.

She collected another enchanted bow and released a volley toward the immobilized enemies. Magical arrows struck faces, throats, and exposed sections between the hardened layers. Several Firians fell before they could free themselves. Experience notifications appeared before Sieghart. [Black Magic gained 10 Experience Points.] [Black Magic gained 10 Experience Points.] [Black Magic gained 10 Experience Points.] Sieghart dismissed them without counting. The battle mattered more than the numbers.

Black Magic could reach another level, but no gradual improvement would save Edric if the enemy leader reached him first. The mud spell worked. Sieghart prepared another. Water gathered above the tents, and streams of sand began rising from the ground. The process came more easily now that he understood the necessary proportions. Too much water would produce a thin mixture that ran from the enemies before hardening. Too much sand made the sphere heavy and difficult to launch.

Sieghart adjusted both elements while forming the spell. The second mud ball became denser than the first but slightly smaller. Its surface rotated more smoothly as he corrected the uneven distribution. He selected another group of Firians approaching from the north. Then the red-haired leader struck. The man had watched his followers become trapped, but several defenders remained between him and Sieghart. Instead of moving around them, he raised both arms and released his stored heat through his entire body.

The resulting explosion lacked visible flames. A transparent wave expanded from him, carrying enough force to clear everything nearby. Smoke vanished, tents collapsed, and the ground cracked beneath his feet. Edric stood among the people closest to the blast. He crossed his arms and attempted to turn his body sideways before the wave reached him. The preparation did little against the overwhelming difference in power. Edric and several other defenders were blown away.

His body rose more than two meters above the ground before crashing into a broken shield. The impact spun him sideways, and he rolled across the dirt until a stack of crates stopped him. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Sieghart's control over the forming mud ball wavered. The sphere trembled above the camp. Part of its surface collapsed, sending mud across an empty tent.

"Grandpa!" Edric remained motionless for one terrible second. Then one hand pressed against the ground. He lifted his head and attempted to rise. His left arm bent at an unnatural angle, and blood ran from a cut near his temple. Something was wrong with his ribs as well. Every breath made his face tighten, while one leg refused to support his weight properly. Edric should have remained down. He didn't. He found the short knife near his hand and used it to push himself upright.

His gaze immediately searched the camp for Sieghart. The stubborn old man was still trying to protect him. Anger surged through Sieghart strongly enough to make his Fire Magic stir. He suppressed the element before it could interfere with the water above him. Edric's injuries weren't minor. Even if he survived the battle, the camp lacked healing magic capable of restoring him quickly. A potion might help, but ordinary fighters rarely received expensive treatment. Sieghart wanted to run toward him.

The enemy leader didn't give him time. The red-haired Firian saw the partially formed mud sphere. He understood what would happen if another spell struck his soldiers. Instead of charging immediately, he raised both arms above his head. Flames emerged from his shoulders, traveled along the orange veins beneath his skin, and gathered between his hands. A fireball began to form. It grew faster than the attack that had destroyed the wagon.

The surrounding fires bent toward the leader, feeding the sphere until it became wider than his body. Heat rolled across the camp. The mud surrounding the immobilized Firians cracked beneath the sudden temperature. Tents ignited, and several defenders retreated from the leader before their clothing caught fire. Sieghart felt the pressure even through water-aligned Protection. The mana circulating beneath his skin grew warm, forcing him to increase the amount devoted to the spell.

This fireball carried enough energy to overwhelm his earlier defense. The Firian wasn't targeting the defenders around him. He was targeting Sieghart. The leader brought both hands forward. The enormous fireball launched. It crossed the camp like a piece of the sun, igniting everything beneath its path. Soldiers threw themselves aside while the projectile filled the darkness with orange light. Sieghart had only a moment to react. The second mud ball wasn't complete.

Sand remained unevenly distributed, and part of the sphere had already collapsed when Edric was injured. It was still the only defense large enough to meet the fireball.

"Fuck." Sieghart released the spell. The unfinished mud sphere flew forward in a low arc. He forced every available thread of control into its movement, aiming directly at the incoming fire. Both projectiles crossed above the broken defensive line. The fireball moved faster. The mud sphere carried greater mass. They collided in the center of the camp. For an instant, nothing happened. The fireball buried itself inside the outer layer of water and mud.

Its flames disappeared from view, leaving only an orange glow spreading through the dark sphere. Then the water boiled. Steam erupted from every section simultaneously. The mud ball expanded as pressure built inside it, while cracks tore across its rotating surface. The fireball attempted to burn through. Its heat converted water into vapor faster than the sphere could release it. Steam pushed against the surrounding mud, turning the spell into an enormous pressurized shell.

Sieghart felt both attacks struggling through his connection. The Firian's fire consumed water and hardened earth. Sieghart's spell absorbed heat, smothered flames, and forced the enemy to spend more energy. Neither side yielded. The mud sphere became red from within. Sections of its surface baked into hard clay. Others melted into streams that fell upon the battlefield as burning sludge. The fireball's outer flames vanished, but its compressed core continued forward.

It pushed the mud sphere backward toward Sieghart. He planted his feet. Wind Magic surged around the projectile, opposing the fireball's momentum. The mental strain became severe enough to send pain through the center of his skull. His nose began bleeding. Sieghart ignored it. If he lost control, the fireball would reach him, Edric, and everyone behind the eastern line. Protection might save Sieghart again, but it wouldn't protect the wounded soldiers surrounding him. He pushed harder.

The mud sphere stopped moving backward. For a second, both spells remained suspended above the battlefield. The surrounding air twisted into a violent vortex of fire, steam, dust, and fragments of hardened clay. Every nearby fighter stopped. Defenders raised shields against the heat. Firians covered their faces as their own leader's attack fought against the dense mass of earth and water. The pressure inside the mud sphere reached its limit. It exploded. A white cloud swallowed the center of the camp.

Steam struck with enough force to tear burning canvas from nearby tents. Hardened pieces of clay flew outward, bouncing from shields and armor. The fireball's remaining core ruptured inside the explosion. Flames spread through the steam, turning the cloud orange before being smothered by the final layers of water. The shock wave reached Sieghart. He activated Wind Magic beneath his feet and leaned forward, but the blast still pushed him into the water barrels. One cracked against his back.

Protection absorbed the impact. Heat followed. The water-aligned mana distributed it across his body, preventing burns while his clothing became soaked with condensed steam. Sieghart remained conscious. The enemy leader also held his ground. The Firian crossed both arms before his face as chunks of hardened mud struck him. Several broke against his armor, while one opened a shallow wound along his forehead. Steam concealed everything between them.

For several seconds, the battlefield contained only hissing water, burning tents, and the groans of injured soldiers. Then the cloud began thinning. The fireball was gone. The mud sphere was gone. Neither attack reached its intended target. Sieghart lowered one arm from his face. Blood continued running from his nose, and his head felt as though someone had driven a nail behind his eyes. His mana remained infinite. His focus didn't. The collision consumed more mental strength than every previous spell combined.

Controlling the sphere while opposing another person's attack had forced him beyond his comfortable limits. Sieghart could still cast. That was enough. He raised his hands again. Water gathered above him. Sand lifted from the ground and entered the growing sphere. The process was slower this time, but the mud began rotating despite the pain behind his eyes. Across the battlefield, the red-haired leader lowered his arms. A shallow clay fragment remained lodged within his shoulder armor.

Steam rose from his hair, and the orange veins across his chest had dimmed noticeably. He stared at Sieghart. Sieghart returned the stare while creating another mud ball. The leader had launched an attack powerful enough to destroy the wagon. Sieghart had stopped it with a spell developed only moments earlier. If they continued exchanging ranged attacks, the Firian would run out of stored heat before Sieghart ran out of mana. The leader appeared to reach the same conclusion.

His gaze moved from the forming mud sphere to Sieghart's bleeding nose. Perhaps he recognized that the child possessed endless magical energy but limited concentration. Another fireball might fail. A fist wouldn't. The leader leaned forward. Orange light gathered around his legs. The ground beneath his feet cracked as heat and force built around his muscles. Sieghart noticed the change.

"That isn't good." The Firian launched himself across the camp. He moved too quickly for another mud sphere to intercept. One moment, he stood among the broken defenders. The next, he was running directly toward Sieghart.