Boom!

Just as the Feathered Arrow was about to pierce Oren’s eye, a fireball exploded right before his face. It shattered the arrow into fragments. Oren felt chills run down his spine, beads of sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Hey! Are you trying to kill me!"

As Oren yelled at Lia behind him, she slowly raised the Longsword in her right hand. "You’re welcome," she said nonchalantly.

Lia placed her left hand on the blade, then swiftly drew it out. The plain-looking Longsword burst into blazing flames. She slightly raised it, taking a combat stance.

"Enchanted, huh."

For Yamwen, this magic wasn’t particularly surprising. She slowly lifted her Feathered Arrow, muttering softly under her breath.

Brilliant white light coiled around the arrow. It quickly formed a sword shape. Holding this radiant longsword, Yamwen charged toward Oren and Lia.

Why do mages always want to fight up close? Oren muttered inwardly, tragically realizing he couldn’t interfere with Yamwen’s magic.

To make magic understand human intent, mages must explain solutions to ambient magical elements. These elements follow step-by-step instructions to create effects. This communication is magic formula programming—a core skill for every mage.

But Elvenfolk formulas were far more complex than human ones. Facing such stability, Oren’s interference techniques from Dysaia found no entry point. That’s why he’d stopped Yamwen physically earlier. Dysaia could’ve interfered with Elvenfolk formulas.

Oren had no time to dwell. Lontan swung his great axe at Oren’s head. Oren raised his Longsword, blocking the orc’s strike head-on.

"Damn it..."

Oren felt the blade vibrate violently in his hands, cursing the orc’s monstrous strength. Before he could react, Lontan kicked him square in the chest. Oren stumbled backward several steps.

"Don’t look around during a fight!"

Before Oren steadied himself, Lontan gripped his axe one-handed. He swung it in a wide arc. Oren raised his Longsword again, blocking with sheer force.

Boots scraped the ground as they clashed. Oren thrust his blade; Lontan met it with his axe. A powerful shockwave rippled outward.

Moments later, an explosion rang out.

With a deafening *Clang!*, violent sparks flew from the collision. The gale from swinging blades dispersed floating dust. The air seemed to boil from the heat.

In that instant, both vanished from their spots. They moved swiftly, weapons flashing like streaks of light, clashing endlessly in the forest. Meanwhile, Lia charged Yamwen with her flaming sword. Yamwen raised her light-blade, ready to engage.

Whether Oren and Lia refused to cooperate or simply couldn’t, the pairs fought separately. Lia vs. Yamwen. Lontan vs. Oren. Sparks flew like lightning. Shockwaves blasted mist apart, only for it to reform.

Amidst the smoke, after another clash, Oren and Lontan pulled back slightly. Oren slowly raised his Longsword one-handed, sidestepped, and thrust forward.

*Clang!*

Lontan caught the glowing sword tip bare-handed. Amidst the grating sound of metal on flesh, he raised his axe. Blood bloomed from his palm as Oren ruthlessly closed in. Oren yanked his weapon free—but Lontan’s axe swept toward him.

*Clang!*

Oren freed his Longsword, but a shrill screech echoed as Lontan’s great axe cleaved it in two. Weapon broken, Oren leaped back to evade the follow-up.

"You fight well. I thought humans who could last this long died out in the Ancient Epoch."

Before Oren could react, Lontan stepped forward. With inhuman speed, he closed the distance and swung his axe down hard.

*Boom!*

Lia suddenly appeared, blocking the strike with her flaming sword. But as a mage, she couldn’t withstand the force. Her footing gave way; she was knocked to the ground. Lontan smoothly swung his axe upward, aiming the blade at her throat.

"Let me say it again—I bear no personal grudge. This is simply—"

*Thud!*

Oren thrust the broken sword half into Lontan’s heart. Lontan cried out, clutching his chest as he stumbled back.

"Lontan!"

Yamwen rushed over, helping him up. Lontan cursed in an unknown tongue, pulling out the broken blade.

"I’m fine. A broken sword can’t pierce my skin or wound my heart."

*Though it still hurts...*

Blood flowed endlessly from his chest as Lontan muttered inwardly. Yamwen raised her Feathered Arrow, glaring at Oren.

"Wait—I’ll kill those two humans right now, and we—"

*Vvvvv...*

A silver-glowing magic circle appeared beneath Yamwen’s feet. It shrank rapidly, enveloping her and Lontan.

"What is—"

A binding sensation surged from the circle. Yamwen’s body locked in place, gripped by invisible force.

A human-specific binding spell.

Oren scanned his surroundings. White-robed mages emerged from all directions. At their center stood William Huerista.

The Academy’s mages had finally detected the magical disturbance.

Human spell programming might not match Elvenfolk’s, but humans won the Ancient Epoch wars through numbers. Even a steel-sword knight can’t defeat twenty pitchfork farmers. Combining identical formulas let humans surpass Elvenfolk magic easily.

As Oren pondered this, William waved his hand and roared:

"That’s enough! I order you to detain these two non-humans and take them to the Academy!"