The Runic Alchemist

"Get ready for your divine punishment now..." Damian smirked.

He slowly began pulling up all the runic circles formed by others with his mana threads. He could control them, but not as though they were his own. He could dismiss, move, or launch them as they were originally chanted by others, but modifying them was impossible. In his eyes, this was the biggest downside—if modification were an option, this skill would have been godly for crafting. Still it was pretty powerful.

"What is happening…?"

"Is he canceling it…?"

"His mana shouldn't last for canceling all our spells…"

"Wha... What the hell is that…?"

"Our spells!"

Everyone started murmuring among themselves in rising panic as Damian activated all of their spells at once, directing them from high above to aim back down toward their casters.

"Run!" Lucian shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The pandemonium unfolded as fireballs, water and air blades, light spells, and many more rained down indiscriminately. The height and distance of the spells was enough for the faster students to escape in time, but they still shoved and grabbed at each other in a desperate attempt to get ahead, harming their own allies in the process.

Damian chuckled, watching the crowd dissolve into wild disorder. That one student in the crowd had been right—his mana reserve was almost completely depleted, good thing that it was an area effect skill and not an individual focused one. He was near 17% now. Sighing, Damian broke another mana pulse potion-this was his last potion too. The expected boost didn't fully materialize because of the overuse; instead of the usual 20%, it barely replenished 7–8% of his mana.

Continue your journey with empire

Amid the wild cheers of the audience, Damian faintly heard explosions and battle cries from the direction of the Knowledge Keeper's house. So, the pugilist group really had gone through with their attack. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, it's time to wrap this up," he muttered, surveying the aftermath.

The Spellborne Legion were losing people by the second. Lucian, Maelor, Kamisen, and Alex worked desperately to save their respective groups, shouting orders in an attempt to establish order. But their efforts were far from effective against the frenzy Damian had unleashed.

Damian started running back toward his house. Sam and Einar were still chasing him but stopped when they saw Evrin and her group in trouble, turning back to assist. There were several hidden second-rankers around, and the spells being cast weren't particularly powerful. For the most part, the first-ranker students with decent stats weren't in serious danger—other than their health bars depleting, which was critical for many. They might suffer some minor injuries.

Damian smirked grimly—Considering the spells were their own, it was better them than him.

The remaining pugilists stirred uneasily. They could sense the chaos within the Spellborne Legion, and it tempted them. If any among them had the nerve, now was indeed the prime time to strike.

In every attack he had launched, he had shown restraint. He deliberately used powerful spells against monsters to demonstrate to the professors that he could have ended it easily, yet he chose a path that minimized student injuries.

If this didn't earn him the 200 points he deserved, he might just have to revolt against the academy.

As he approached his house, Damian could faintly sense the aura of Karl and his elite team, accompanied by more than half of the remaining pugilists. The barrier was gone, but his traps had held most of them back from crossing the bridge.

Still, a few had found a way through and were leaping across the field toward the house, only to be met by Gregory, Tom, and the others defending it. Many faces from the original seventeen were missing—likely taken down by the guards after their health bars hit zero.

Damian was out of runic scrolls, and his mana was barely above 20%. While he had plenty of parchments in his spatial storage, he had already used up all his mana ink earlier. If he went monster hunting for materials and then crafted more scrolls, it would be too late.

The next monster wave was still a while away. Looks like he'd be fighting close combat against a horde of pugilists. Well, it was about time anyway.

Taking advantage of their unawareness, Damian struck first, downing several pugilists with quick, brutal attacks enhanced by his strength potion. But it didn't take long for the rest of the group—around 35 strong—to shift their attention to him, swiftly encircling him.

Damian's black-aura-clad longsword pulsed in his hands like a living force, its faint whispers urging him forward. By now he was pretty tired too, his stamina was better than average but he had abused his body enough today. Yet without hesitation, he launched himself into the fray.

The first wave rushed him with coordinated ferocity, fists blazing with powerful aura's, striking like steel. Damian met them head-on, his blade carving the air with dark arcs. He spun low to evade a cracking strike to his temple, his sword flashing upward to meet the knee of another student aiming to crush his ribs. The black aura surrounding the weapon flared ominously, deflecting blows and slashing close enough to graze cloth and skin.

A student's fists rained down in rapid succession, forcing Damian to parry with precision. His blade lashed sideways in riposte, cutting a trail of shimmering darkness through the air and sending the attacker stumbling back. Before they could regain their footing, Damian ducked a high kick, pivoting sharply to drop another student with a hilt smash to the chest.

The pugilist students didn't relent, throwing themselves in clusters to overwhelm him. They synchronized strikes with unnerving precision: three aiming high, two diving low, and another darting from his blind side. Damian countered with calculated ferocity. He deflected a crushing punch with a sharp twist of his sword and followed up with a back kick, sending one pugilist sprawling.

His movements were relentless, but so were theirs. He noticed Karl watching—arms crossed, analyzing Damian's every move. Others in the elite team were not satisfied with just watching though.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om