Chapter 105: Vs Ravelhorn!

The pressure rolling from Ravelhorn did not stop increasing.

Damian’s earlier amusement disappeared as <Divine Sense> spread throughout the clearing, wrapping around the Great Fey with considerably more attention than before.

Something was wrong, very wrong!

He had fought Ao Longtian, a Late Foundation Establishment Semi-Divine Beast capable of threatening newly advanced Golden Core cultivators, so Damian was no longer unfamiliar with the sensation of standing before something stronger than himself.

Ravelhorn’s aura possessed a different structure, but the density was unmistakable.

This was nowhere near what Damian expected from a CR 8 opponent.

Hell, it was nowhere near a normal late Journeyman!

The Fey power rolling from Ravelhorn felt easily twice as oppressive as the figure Damian had mentally prepared himself to fight.

His <Divine Sense> couldn’t hand him some neat Character Sheet with an exact number, but after everything Damian had experienced across Valoria and Shengyuan, he could make a rough comparison.

His expression changed.

"...Master?"

Low Master tier, most likely.

Motherfucker!

Ravelhorn saw the realization immediately.

"Surprised?" The Satyr asked with an arrogant laugh, purple power crawling around his shoulders.

"I can clearly see it upon your face, Human. You are quite naive for someone who considered himself clever only moments ago." Ravelhorn mocked with a chuckle.

Damian remained silent.

"A mere Dark Goblin tells you that Ravelhorn the Reveler is CR 8, and you simply believe him?" Ravelhorn asked with a sneer.

"Why not first ask yourself how a monster living beneath a hollow hill knows the Human racial classification system for dangerous creatures?"

Damian’s surprise slowly disappeared.

Then he nodded.

"...Indeed."

That had slipped past him, not because the original intelligence had been unreasonable, but because Damian had naturally assumed the Goblin was repeating commonly known information.

Now that Ravelhorn pointed it out?

There was another obvious problem.

"Rosewood Town has at least two Legends that I personally know of, and it’s connected to Rastia Kingdom, which obviously possesses many more." Damian reasoned aloud while tightening his grip upon Longtian.

"No matter how clever your plan is, strength ultimately decides how long you can keep playing games. If you were truly only CR 8, eventually someone strong enough would arrive and capsize your little boat in the gutter."

Ravelhorn’s face brightened tremendously.

"Exactly!" The Satyr exclaimed, pointing at Damian as if he’d finally found the only literate student in a classroom.

"Ah! How I’ve suffered! That idiot Varkas is CR 7, so naturally, I allowed him to believe I was merely one level higher!"

Damian paused, his eyes widening slightly with shock.

Then his expression became ugly.

"You malicious bastard...!"

Ravelhorn’s smile became enormous.

"You deliberately kept your supposed strength close to his own." Damian continued, finally seeing the entire arrangement.

"If Varkas knew you could crush him whenever you pleased, he would never seriously consider betraying you. He might even decide his best chance was defecting to the Humans and selling everything he knew."

Damian’s gaze sharpened.

"But if you were only slightly stronger than him..."

"...Then our mighty Chieftain could endure!" Ravelhorn finished joyfully.

"He could bow his head, gather power, tolerate every insult and secretly dream about the glorious day I became weak enough for him to strike!"

The Satyr actually clasped his hands together.

"Then he would become the savior of his tribe! The heroic Varkas who endured humiliation beneath the wicked Great Fey until the perfect opportunity finally arrived!"

Damian stared at the Great Fey and Ravelhorn happily stared back.

Then both glanced vaguely in the direction of Blackroot Den.

Poor bastard.

Varkas Blackroot, mighty Dark Goblin Chieftain, had apparently spent this entire time trapped inside a revenge subplot Ravelhorn wrote specifically for him.

And the fellow still hadn’t realized he was acting!

Ravelhorn sighed happily.

"Finally, someone understands."

Damian’s face twitched.

"...You really are an asshole."

"Thank you."

Naturally, the compliment pleased him.

Damian exhaled slowly and raised Longtian into a ready position.

"A Master, huh? This one’s going to be tough." He muttered grimly.

The divine blessings from his fight with Alfaro had already expired, but that was no problem.

"Maior et Fortior!"

<Guidance> activated, sending a stream of golden light into his body.

"Resisto!"

<Resistance> also activated, and another layer followed.

Ravelhorn watched with open interest rather than interrupting, and that alone made Damian cautious.

Ao Longtian had been overwhelmingly powerful, but he fought like what he was, a beast.

An incredibly experienced, ancient and intelligent beast, certainly, but most of his threat came from his body, bloodline, draconic abilities and enormous accumulated strength.

Ravelhorn?

Ravelhorn was a caster.

Worse...

He was a Fey caster!

Which meant Damian was dealing with somebody who possessed superior raw power, centuries of experience, illusion magic, enchantments, spatial movement and enough intelligence to deliberately falsify his own threat rating for years just to manipulate his allies.

Wonderful.

Damian lowered Longtian slightly, then decided to begin where he was most comfortable, at range!

"Perure!"

Level 3 spell, <Lightning Bolt>!

CRACK!

A concentrated line of Lightning erupted across the glade.

Ravelhorn vanished from his spot, purple mist erupting where he’d been standing before he reappeared twenty meters to Damian’s left with one hoof resting upon a fallen log.

<Misty Step>, huh?

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

Ravelhorn smiled, then five identical Satyrs stepped out of him.

Damian’s <Truesight> activated immediately, peeling away the obvious deception... only for all five to move!

"...Hoh?"

Two rushed sideways, one jumped backward, and another raised the black pipes.

The final Ravelhorn disappeared through another burst of purple mist.

Damian’s <Divine Sense> tracked the original magical presence, but the copies were not empty images either.

Fey power filled them with enough substance to confuse ordinary magical perception, and several launched attacks simultaneously.

One played a shrill note, causing the air to scream.

Damian moved sideways as a compressed sonic blast struck the ground where he’d stood.

BOOM!

Another Ravelhorn swept one hand forward, and silver blades appeared in midair.

Level 2 spell, <Cloud of Daggers>!

Dozens of spinning magical knives swallowed a section of the clearing, forcing Damian to move before the storm could close around him.

A third clone laughed and charged directly toward him.

Damian’s eyes flashed as he raised a hand.

"Ignis!"

<Firebolt>!

BOOM!

The Grandmaster Cantrip crossed the distance almost instantly, but the Ravelhorn it struck exploded into purple flowers.

"...What?"

Meanwhile, behind him...

"Hehehe!"

Damian turned and saw that Ravelhorn stood several meters away.

The Satyr bowed theatrically.

Damian’s eyebrows rose.

That hadn’t been an ordinary illusion.

His <Truesight> had known the target was false and his <Divine Sense> had known Ravelhorn’s real body was elsewhere.

Yet the damn thing had still intercepted the spell like an actual substitute!

Ravelhorn had created expendable illusionary doubles with enough actual Fey structure to receive an attack before collapsing.

Cheeky bastard.

Damian smiled. "I like that."

"I know." Ravelhorn replied smugly.

Damian lifted his hand.

"Treme!"

<Ice Storm>!

BOOOOOOM!

Cold exploded across the glade, a violent storm engulfing more than ten meters around Ravelhorn.

Frost magic crashed downward while the ground rapidly whitened beneath accumulating ice.

One Level 4 Spell Slot, gone just like that.

Mage Slots remaining:

Level 1 — 6.

Level 2 — 5.

Level 3 — 2.

Level 4 — 2.

Level 5 — 1.

No free refund from <Boon of Spell Recall> so far.

Tsk.

Ravelhorn emerged from the storm three times, but Damian immediately identified two as false.

The third though, was real.

He thrust his hand forward.

"Ignis!"

<Firebolt>!

The blazing projectile hit Ravelhorn squarely in the chest.

PUFF!

Purple petals showered the area, causing Damian’s eyes to widen.

Wrong?!

His <Truesight> had identified that one as the real body!

No, not wrong actually.

The information had simply changed after he fired.

Ravelhorn had somehow switched places with one of the doubles at the final moment!

Substitution Jutsu?!

Ravelhorn’s laughter echoed through the clearing from somewhere behind the trees.

"Hahahaha!"

Roots suddenly exploded from the earth beneath Damian.

<Plant Growth>!

Thick vines wrapped around his boots and calves.

Damian reacted instantly.

"Arde!"

<Burning Hands>!

WHOOOOSH!

Grandmaster flames burst outward, vaporizing the nearest vegetation and releasing him before the roots could tighten.

One Level 1 Spell Slot spent, with five remaining.

Damian leapt backward as a violet pattern appeared beneath his feet, his instincts roaring at him to escape.

He activated <Misty Step> and nearly 15 points of Mental Energy disappeared immediately.

Damian vanished from where he was in a flare of greyish-purple light.

BOOOOM!

The ground where he’d stood ruptured beneath a thunderous magical detonation.

He reappeared twenty meters away and immediately found Ravelhorn smiling at him from a tree branch.

The Satyr tapped his pipes together.

"You’re quite the quick one, aren’t you?"

Damian raised his hand.

"Perure!"

Another <Lightning Bolt> tore through the branch.

CRACK!

Ravelhorn vanished through <Misty Step> again, reappearing near Alfaro’s protected position.

Two Level 3 Slots had been left before the cast, now one remained.

Damian could feel the battle beginning to eat resources.

Good, that meant this was actually a fight!

After all, he wasn’t here to preserve his Spell Slots for retirement!

"Arde!"

<Scorching Ray>!

Three blazing rays shot from his hand.

Ravelhorn raised his pipes, a shimmering distortion appearing around him.

The first ray struck one duplicate.

PUFF!

The second struck another.

PUFF!

The third curved toward the real Satyr, but Ravelhorn vanished again.

One Level 2 Slot consumed with only four remaining.

Damian clicked his tongue.

The bastard’s mobility was ridiculous.

Worse, Ravelhorn was fighting like someone who actually understood spellcasters.

He never stood still long enough to become the center of Damian’s artillery.

He used cover, forced movement, created false targets, attacked from multiple angles, and constantly made Damian choose whether a spell was worth spending.

Ao Longtian had made Damian worry about surviving enough raw power.

Ravelhorn was making him worry about his wallet!

Cough... well, he meant his ’magical’ wallet.

Same principle.

Then music entered Damian’s ears, soft and almost pleasant.

His <Perfect Combat Instinct> reacted before he understood why.

Danger!!!

Damian’s Spirit hardened as the melody suddenly carried words that weren’t words, whispering directly against his thoughts.

<Dissonant Whispers>!

His vision shook, images flashing through his mind of his mother dying alone, his father’s corpse disappearing somewhere beyond recovery, Mu Qingyao bleeding out, Shen Xueyi beheaded, Rosewood Town burning, and the Four Valkyries staring at him with eyes full of hatred.

Damian’s face twisted.

"Get the fuck out of my head!"

His spiritual power erupted and the visions shattered.

Ravelhorn appeared directly in front of him though, finally breaking Damian’s guard.

"Got you." The Satyr whispered with a malevolent grin.

<Shatter>!

BOOOOOOM!

The sonic explosion hit Damian point-blank!

His <Mage Armor> erupted automatically across his body, Barrier Stability absorbing part of the blast while <Resistance> reduced more!

Still though...

CRACK!

Damian flew backward, smashing through one tree, then another!

THUD!

His back hit the ground hard enough to carve a trench through the moss as pain exploded through his abdomen.

"...Fuck!"

Damian rolled aside as a spear of twisted wood slammed into the place his head had occupied.

Ravelhorn stood in the distance, one hand raised.

The fellow wasn’t even using his pipes for every spell!

Damian rose quickly, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.

His Supreme Adept Battle Armor had taken part of the impact while his Grandmaster <Mage Armor> remained intact, although the barrier had noticeably weakened.

His ribs hurt, his back hurt, and unlike Ao Longtian, Ravelhorn had just chained mental magic into teleportation into a point-blank area attack with enough timing that Damian barely got a defensive response.

This bastard was good, really good.

For the first time, Damian was being suppressed by raw stats, skills and experience.

Damian wiped his mouth, then smiled.

Ravelhorn’s eyebrows rose.

"Oh?"

"You know, I was starting to think this Mage thing made combat too easy." Damian muttered while straightening.

Ravelhorn laughed, then spread both arms as purple light multiplied around him.

One Ravelhorn became three, three became seven, and seven spread throughout the clearing.

Damian’s <Truesight> identified the illusions and <Divine Sense> tracked magical density, but neither solved the actual problem because Ravelhorn had already demonstrated that he could exchange positions with them.

Any one could become fake at the moment Damian committed to attacking.

Then all seven began casting!

One raised a hand as magical light gathered into a glowing sphere, another produced a storm of knives, a third began playing a melody, while the fourth disappeared through purple mist.

Damian’s expression became serious.

His current Mage expenditure was already noticeable.

Five of six Level 1 Slots remained.

Four of five Level 2 Slots.

One of three Level 3 Slots.

Two of three Level 4 Slots.

His single Level 5 Slot remained untouched.

His Divine pool was healthier, but <Glyph of Warding> had already consumed one of his three Level 3 Divine Slots while protecting Alfaro.

Mental Energy had also dropped by 15 points from <Misty Step>, a drop of about ten percent of his total.

And on Ravelhorn’s side?

Well... Damian had absolutely no clue!

There was no Character Sheet to reference for Attributes, Spell Slots, or Feats.

Heck, he had no idea whether the Great Fey even followed ordinary Mage resource rules in the first place!

The bastard might be spending Mental Energy, Fey essence, or some racial reservoir.

Perhaps his smugness was also a renewable energy source.

Heh!

Whatever the answer...

Damian finally understood why fighting an experienced caster was such a pain in the ass.

Did his enemies so far suffer like this too?

Ravelhorn lifted his pipes, and all seven copies smiled.

"Come now, Human! Surely that wasn’t everything?" Ravelhorn called gleefully from every direction.

Damian rolled his aching shoulder while Longtian floated from his hand and positioned itself beside him.

The sword growled.

Grrrrrrrr...

Damian grinned.

"Not even close!"