Hundreds of daggers floated around the area. Each one was a feather from Steamfalos’ wings, and each was also a dagger.
Aslan moved the floating daggers.
Boiling mana and an intensely surging magical aura emanated from the tattoos, dispersing into the air. The dispersed mana grasped the daggers.
It felt as though Aslan had acquired dozens, even hundreds, of invisible hands in mid-air. Feeling more complexity than omnipotence first, Aslan exhaled loosely.
The goal was not to kill.
It was to subdue.
In that regard, Mastery and Steamfalos’ wings were the most effective means available at the moment.
Screech!
Daggers shot out, almost as if someone held and swung them. The flying daggers were blocked by something.
Kwaang!
The explosion and heat rippled through the surroundings.
The daggers weren’t blocked; they did the blocking. What was blocked by the dagger’s trajectory resembling feathers was a blazing fireball.
The fireball, about the size of a human head, contained an immense amount of heat invisible to the naked eye.
Anna Helmenius watched Aslan’s actions while lifting her hand. The mana swirling from her hand was as formidable as Aslan’s.
Considering that even accomplished arch-mages rarely exceed a mana rating of 10, Anna Helmenius’ talent became apparent.
Overflowing with mana, she infused it powerfully into her magic, wielding it with unmatched proficiency. That alone made Anna Helmenius a dangerous wizard.
The resilience of a former master of magic. Aslan followed her hand signs and incantations, moving the daggers between surging flames.
Bang, Kzzzjik, Bang!
Two oncoming fireballs. Aslan precisely drove the daggers into them, neutralizing them, and then blocked a spear of fire aimed at his head by clumping the daggers together.
Amidst the fierce heat disturbing the surroundings, Aslan maintained concentration while resting his hand on his hilt within a storm of steel feathers extending five meters around him.
Anna’s expression slightly changed upon seeing this. A barely noticeable shift that was hard to confirm just by looking. However, Aslan noticed it—Anna was impressed.
Anna Helmenius was proficient in nearly all forms of magic and was an experienced arch-mage. Accordingly, all her magical disciplines were equally outstanding.
But even for her, there were preferred and confident types of magic.
Namely, the manifestation school’s fire-controlling magic and the transformation school’s heat-utilizing magic.
She skillfully combined these two schools of magic, elevating the destructive aspect of fire magic several levels higher.
Even if the scattered fire merely warded off its surroundings, it could inflict severe damage. Even if it failed to cause harm, the intense heat could disrupt focus.
Nevertheless, Aslan maintained his unique magic amidst such high temperatures.
The reason was simple.
Due to the dragon’s blood coursing through his veins, he possessed a single-use resurrection ability along with strong fire resistance.
Though not immune, Aslan managed to stay calm in the midst of boiling flames thanks to this fire-resistance capability. His eyes gleamed amidst the swirling daggers.
It seemed like the immediate situation had been resolved. The oncoming fireballs, beams of fire, and streams of condensed heat were all blocked by the daggers.
However, that was only for now. Aslan knew the weaknesses and limitations of Mastery.
Firstly, there was a range restriction. Objects Aslan could manipulate extended only up to 5 meters. Beyond that distance, his telekinetic control didn’t reach. Thus, Aslan delayed throwing the daggers until the last possible moment.
He only launched them when necessary to prevent nearby targets from approaching, and once thrown, the daggers did not return, confirming his suspicion.
Secondly, there was limited mobility.
To be precise, movement was possible but generally undesirable.
Aslan had to simultaneously control hundreds of “hands.” Moving during this process was extremely challenging.
Just preventing the hands from entangling required considerable concentration, so attempting to move his own body would undoubtedly result in losing control over some daggers.
Thirdly, there was the issue of mana consumption.
Despite Aslan’s current mana capacity being 10—a level far exceeding human limits and entering the realm of non-humans—Mastery still consumed a significant amount of mana.
Aware of the rapidly depleting mana, Aslan bit his lip.
He could endure for merely 161 seconds. If his mana depleted entirely, he might die. From that point onward, Aslan would have to abandon all subsequent plans and resort to melee combat.
That wasn’t a desirable scenario. Quickly calculating and exhaling, Aslan manipulated the raised mana.
It was a race against time. Aslan kept the system window showing his remaining mana in the corner of his vision and moved his hand.
Anna Helmenius’ eyes widened significantly and followed Aslan’s hand movements. Sensing her gaze, Aslan formed a hand sign.
Although traditional magics were unavailable, Aslan remembered all hand signs and incantations.
Forming hand signs outlines the shape of magic. Aslan captured the form in a summoning sigil. Drawing the appearance of the summoning sigil, he meaninglessly circulated mana along the tattoos on his arm, causing them to glow.
Surging mana and the glowing tattoos.
As Aslan pointed at Anna with an outstretched hand, she stepped back, raising her hand before slashing downward. Following her slash, a large mass of heat surged forward with rocks.
The magic struck an empty space, proving futile.
Kwaaaaaaang!
A deafening roar and explosion. The sound was loud enough to wake sleeping comrades in the cell and attract guards descending from above.
Recalling the need to calm Anna Helmenius before the guards arrived, Aslan smirked.
Realizing she’d been tricked after observing the empty ground, Anna moved her hand. The rock embedded in the floor shifted. As the stone hurtled toward Aslan’s head, he immediately drew his sword.
“Summon Thunder.”
Grrrrr!
The sword strike imbued with thunder repelled the rock and scattered the thunderous sound around. The noise woke some prisoners sleeping in the jail.
Phey was the first to rise, true to their elven nature requiring no sleep, opening their eyes and glancing around.
The aftermath of the magic had melted the iron bars, and broken fragments of stone rolled across the floor.
Moreover, a loud crash followed. The girl rolled her eyes and quietly got up, peering outside the cell with her indigo eyes.
The elf girl quickly understood the situation.
Aslan was fighting a woman.
The woman was a wizard who primarily used fire but appeared capable of utilizing various types of magic.
She also assessed the condition of her companions.
Whether from the cold seawater or fatigue, Tiamat snored loudly without any signs of waking, and Angie curled up in a corner wrapped in a blanket.
Phey smirked and shook their head.
“You sure sleep well.”
Ereta was awake but trapped by the rock rolling in front of her cell.
While pushing the rock with glowing tattoos, Ereta met Phey’s gaze, and Phey gave a faint smile.
“I guess I’m the only one who can do this. Good thing too.”
Sending a glance telling Ereta to stay put, the girl swiftly moved. Taking a few steps back to create distance from the cell door, she lightly bounced to check her body’s condition.
Her physical state was optimal, as always, ready for a fight. The elf girl, possessing the best stats in the party, confirmed her readiness for battle and carefully examined where to place her feet.
Except for the iron bars, the rest of the underground prison was made of solid stone, sturdy enough to withstand her leaps.
Phey took an unnecessary breath, mimicking Aslan.
The lightly jumping girl landed softly, bending her ankles and lowering her knees. With the deepened posture, force concentrated downward.
And she leapt.
Tung! A light sound of jumping followed as the girl sprang upward, reaching the ceiling in one leap, flipped her body, and kicked it.
Pushing off the ceiling toward the wall, she flipped again in mid-air, directing her legs toward the wall.
Kwang!
Stone fragments flew, and the elf girl accelerated. Her target was the iron bars, specifically the most melted section near the door, which appeared weakest.
Directing her body toward the door, she extended her legs.
Kaang!
An impressive drop kick with significant acceleration. The hinge of the iron bar broke, rolling onto the floor, and the door followed. The sound was masked by the ongoing magical sounds.
The iron bars scraped the floor, sparking. Phey flipped in mid-air, landing gracefully, then threw herself into the shadows to avoid detection by the wizard casting spells.
Crouching low and moving silently, she picked up a fallen dagger.
Aslan’s cloak of steel feathers, perfect for use as daggers. Without a proper sword at the moment, she had to make do with these. Gripping the dagger backward, she silently dashed through the shadows.
Her aim was the neck. Precisely, she intended to stab the blade behind the cervical vertebrae, twist it, and tear the head off. Such an impromptu decapitation would resemble that of a beast.
Afterward, arranging it to look like the work of a priest would suffice, leaving Aslan untroubled.
Having completed her calculations, the girl changed direction and lunged toward the wizard’s back.
Tung!
Accelerating, Aslan noticed the approaching Phey and flinched.
“Stop—!”
His startled shout caused Anna Helmenius to sense the oddity and turn around.
The approaching girl, her red hair fluttering, dagger aimed. Anna Helmenius widened her eyes upon seeing the girl.
The dagger halted inches from Anna Helmenius’ face before retracting, leaving her mouth agape in shock.
As Phey flipped in mid-air to land beside Aslan, Anna instinctively reached out to the girl, uttering a soft “Ah.”
“—3, 2, 1. Activation, Activation!”
“Breakthrough, Breakthrough, Breakthrough!”
“Drop your weapon and surrender!”
With a bang, the door shattered, splinters flying everywhere, as a group of wizards armed with maces and staves rushed in but hesitated.
“What… Mayor?”
What greeted their eyes was a rather unusual scene.
The prison, scorched and fractured by what seemed like a magical event.
At the center stood the mayor, saying “Ah,” “Uh,” while approaching a girl.
And nearby, a young man with wide eyes and a stroking jawline, along with a stoic girl holding a dagger.
A sight impossible to understand without explanation.
While those with maces awkwardly stood there, trying to gauge the situation, Aslan sighed.
Phey looked like a 14-year-old child.
Certainly, Anna’s daughter, who died and was sealed in a pendant before reaching that age, might have resembled Phey had she grown to 14.
Though differing in eye color and species, Phey, as elves typically are, possessed a flawless appearance with striking crimson hair similar to Anna Helmenius’.
An enchantingly beautiful girl with an elven allure that made lowering one’s guard inevitable. Coupled with a great mage mourning the loss of her daughter.
Presenting “the ideal girl” amid the excitement of battle allowed Phey to firmly lodge herself in the woman’s thoughts.
Aslan recalled a historical fact.
Anna’s husband was human, and her daughter was a quarter-orc.
Thus, perhaps her daughter lacked orcish features beyond ears, eyes, and mana, much like Anna.
Of course, even if her daughter had distinct orcish traits, it wouldn’t matter.
Nearly 200 years of solitude had driven the woman into fantasy.
Faint memories beautified and reassembled. Aslan realized these memories had maximized in Phey’s appearance and drained the remaining mana to revert Steamfalos’ wings, causing dizziness as his mana dropped to around 50.
“A moment ago… I mentioned I could grant you one wish, correct?”
Anna finally looked at Aslan after struggling to tear her gaze from Phey, her face radiating maternal affection despite the recent madness.
Aslan smiled faintly at her.
“I thought what you intended wasn’t about honoring the dead. Similarly, I wondered if this act might disrespect them. But… living beings must live. If you wish, I can add another condition.”
Saying this, Aslan subtly turned his head toward Phey, who instantly understood his intent—an impressive reflex developed from coordinating closely over the past year.
Phey discreetly attached the dagger to Aslan’s cloak and hid behind him. Her expression was calculated.
Shy yet curious, she peeked from behind Aslan, half-showing her face to Anna.
She blinked hesitantly. When Anna trembled as if a piece of her heart stirred, Aslan continued.
“This is my companion, Phey. The master of swords and the sole elf who fights.”
Anna didn’t respond, nor did it seem she heard. Regardless, Aslan smiled.
“Anna Helmenius. If you desire… I will allow Phey to spend time with you until you resolve your lingering attachment to your daughter. As your daughter.”
Anna’s pupils shrank at the proposal. Her face, vacant as if her soul had left, approached Phey.
Seeing the approaching woman, Phey glanced at Aslan.
Her expression mirrored the look one gives when asking a dog to perform an unusual trick.
A questioning look: “Do I really have to do this?”
“Do we seriously intend to go through with this?”
An unwilling expression.
Aslan responded with a slight smile, and Phey, realizing there was no choice, moved toward Anna.
Anna, watching Phey’s bashful approach, opened her arms and embraced her.
“Child… What’s your name…?”
“Phey.”
Upon Phey’s response, Anna caressed her back while wearing a complex expression intertwined with obsession and maternal love.
