Chapter 670 - 557: Long time no see, Mr. Bronson

Chapter 670: Chapter 557: Long time no see, Mr. Bronson

The two High Tower Spellcasters, moving at great speed, were already immersed in the sense of control that came with this game of cat and mouse.

The spellcaster in the lead, responsible for clearing obstacles, had a nearly imperceptible, contemptuous smirk playing on his lips.

He didn’t even bother to glance back at the Serrated Anchor sailors trapped by the earth wall, beating against it in vain. It was as if he were merely swatting away a few annoying, buzzing insects.

In his eyes, these Pirates, relying solely on brute force and crude weapons, were no different from the practice targets on a training field. Their only purpose, perhaps, was to serve as a minor test for the stability of his Spell Models and his own Casting speed.

"So... incredibly noisy."

He murmured to his companion, the one tasked with hindering their pursuers, his voice laced with cold indifference.

"They lack the most basic tactical discipline and have no understanding of Energy Shocks. Aside from their loud voices, they’re utterly useless."

His companion, the one who had cast the Mire Technique, looked equally relaxed. He even had the leisure to straighten the slightly rumpled sleeve of his robe, disheveled from their rapid pace.

He glanced back at the sailors struggling and cursing in the mud and chuckled softly.

"Just as I expected. These fellows who make their living on the waves might have more muscle than brains. It’s a shame, but in the face of true mastery of Arcane Magic, pure brute force is meaningless."

"Their leader might be worth some attention, but as for his men..."

He shrugged, the unspoken sentiment perfectly clear.

The two moved with extreme speed, dragging along a struggling Bronson who was bound by a faint but firm Force Field Restraint. They were like two gray shadows flitting through the chaotic streets.

They weren’t just fleeing in a straight line. Instead, they cleverly used the corners of buildings and the cover of the chaotic crowd, constantly adjusting their course as they headed for a pre-planned extraction point on the island’s edge.

As for the handful of sailors who had managed to free themselves from the mire or the wall and were now roaring in pursuit once more, the spellcasters couldn’t even be bothered to cast another formal Spell.

The leading spellcaster would just occasionally flick a finger, and a few pale purple Magic Missiles would shoot out with precision. He wasn’t aiming to kill, just targeting the ground at the pursuers’ feet or the weapons in their hands. The small explosions and impacts forced them to scramble out of the way, widening the gap between them once more.

This effortless, almost playful obstruction highlighted the despairing gap between them far more than a direct attack would. It was also more effective at enraging their opponents and making them lose what little reason they had left.

"Let’s get to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible."

The lead spellcaster glanced at a faintly glowing Rune Positioning Disc in his hand and gave the order coolly.

"The Mentor should be able to keep that woman occupied. As long as we get the ’key,’ our primary objective for this trip will be complete. As for these Pirates... heh, we’ll leave them a thoroughly ruined wedding as a souvenir."

"Understood."

The other spellcaster nodded. His gaze swept over the pale-faced Bronson they were holding, his eyes holding only the detached assessment one would give a "carrier of a mission item," with no other emotion for the "hostage" himself.

"I just didn’t expect that woman would actually gift one of Ambroise’s Sacred Artifacts to a man, let alone apply such a powerful bloodline or Spirit binding to it..."

"It would have been much easier to just take an inanimate object than to abduct a living person."

"All that matters is completing the mission. As for the binding method..."

The lead spellcaster’s speech was steady, his gaze still focused on the path ahead and the Positioning Disc in his hand.

"The Mentor can analyze it later. We just need to bring... Watch out!"

The lead spellcaster hadn’t finished his sentence. The warning had barely left his lips when everything changed.

A blurred figure, as if Stripped from the Shadow itself, appeared without warning less than five feet in front of him and to his side.

It was faster than the eye could follow. Only the faint displacement of air and an impossibly fast, ghostly purple gleam of cold light proved its existence.

It was Roland.

Using the Shadow from a building on the street corner and the Chaos of the crowd as cover, he had closed the distance in an instant with explosive force, aiming directly for the lead spellcaster.

The Short Spike tore through the air without a whisper of sound, yet it carried an intent to pierce that was honed to an absolute point, aimed directly at the caster’s pupils, which had widened slightly in shock.

This was typically a sensory link point where a spellcaster’s protective Force Field was relatively weak.

"What?"

The lead spellcaster was a rigorously trained elite, after all. At the critical moment, his instinct for self-preservation overrode his shock.

He didn’t even have time to chant a Spell, relying completely on a near-reflexive Arcane technique and a trigger-activated life-saving item he wore.

"HUM!"

In that same instant, a translucent Force Field Shield covered in a fine hexagonal pattern materialized before him.

Simultaneously, a pendant on his neck blazed with a blinding blue light as a powerful repulsive Force Field erupted from it, attempting to hurl Roland away.

However, Roland’s attack was too sudden, the distance too short, and his Power too focused.

"CRACK!"

A soft, yet grating, shattering sound.

The hastily formed Force Field Shield was like thin ice struck by a sledgehammer before the tip of the ghostly purple Short Spike. It was instantly covered in cracks and then disintegrated.

The Short Spike’s momentum slowed slightly, but it still plunged with unerring accuracy into the center of the pendant that had unleashed the repulsive Force Field.

"BANG!"

The pendant shattered on impact, the blue light consumed by Annihilation.

The repulsive Force Field collapsed before it could fully expand.

The remaining momentum of the Short Spike even tore through the sleeve of the spellcaster’s hastily raised arm, leaving a gash on his skin so deep the bone was visible.

A grunt escaped the lead spellcaster from the intense pain and magical backlash. His face turned deathly pale, and he stumbled backward uncontrollably as the Positioning Disc flew from his grasp.

The acceleration spell he had been maintaining fluctuated violently from the sudden, grievous injury and the shock to his Spirit, on the verge of collapsing entirely.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Only then did the other spellcaster, the one responsible for running interference, turn his head in horror, just in time to see his companion staggering back, blood spraying through the air.

"Dammit..."

A mix of shock and fury welled up in him, and he instinctively began to chant an offensive or control Spell.

But he had barely begun the incantation.

"By the power of my Lord, be still!"

A coarse but commanding shout erupted beside him.

Holland had, at some point, charged forward like a raging bull.

The unassuming Nail Head Hammer in his hand was now wreathed in pure, golden Holy Light. As he shouted his command, he slammed the head of the hammer hard onto the ground.

A golden ripple, imbued with a sacred, tranquilizing aura, spread out rapidly from the point of impact, instantly washing over the spellcaster.

Although it couldn’t completely control a strong-willed spellcaster, the wave of divine serenity that flooded his mind was enough to severely disrupt his Concentration. The Spell that was about to form caught in his throat, forcibly choked back.

At the same time, Ellis’s voice rang out clearly.

He made a grasping motion with his hands, aiming at the ground in front of the spellcaster, while the arcane light in his gray-blue eyes swirled rapidly.

"[Quicksand Trap]"

It was the young spellcaster’s own improved version of the Mire Technique.

It created a more powerful vortex of quicksand in a smaller area, and he had perfectly predicted where the spellcaster would land after instinctively trying to leap backward to create distance from Holland’s interference.

"Urgh!"

His Spell interrupted, the caster was both shocked and enraged. He pushed off with his feet to leap backward, only to land right in a patch of ground that had suddenly turned soft and viscous, pulling at him with a powerful suction.

Caught off guard, he immediately sank up to his waist. His struggles only made the quicksand churn more violently, and for a moment, he was completely stuck and in a wretched state.

In the instant the fight began, the two previously unflappable High Tower Spellcasters—one injured, one trapped—had lost their advantage entirely.

As for Roland, after grievously wounding the lead spellcaster in a single strike, he didn’t pause for a second. With ghost-like footwork, his body blurred into a Residual Shadow as he turned toward the spellcaster trapped in the quicksand.

Seeing Roland approach, a flash of panic crossed the trapped spellcaster’s eyes. But in the next instant, he gritted his teeth, abandoning any thought of immediate escape. His hands flew through a series of seals as he spat out rapid syllables, attempting to cast a defensive or counter-attack Spell that required no movement.

However, Roland was faster than his incantation.

The instant before the man’s Spell could form, Roland was already within three feet of him.

His left hand formed a claw, whipping through the air with a sharp gust as he lunged for the caster’s wrists, which were still forming the seals for the Spell.

The grab seemed simple, but its timing was exquisite, catching the man at the most critical juncture—just as his previous effort was spent but before his new Spell had been born.

"CRACK!"

The crisp sound of bone dislocating echoed.

The spellcaster cried out in pain, his wrists caught in Roland’s iron grip.

A sharp, precise Power shot through him, not only interrupting his Casting but also sending a jolt of excruciating, numbing pain through his hands, robbing him of the dexterity to form seals.

Roland’s movements, however, were as smooth as flowing water.

While restraining the man’s hands, his right leg whipped out silently like a steel rod, precisely striking the side of his opponent’s knee, which was immobilized by the quicksand.

"OOF!"

With another grunt of pain, the spellcaster’s knee buckled. He lost his balance completely and pitched forward, his face slamming into the very quicksand he had created. He choked on a mouthful of sand and mud, left to struggle futilely.

Meanwhile, Holland had strode up to the injured, stumbling lead spellcaster, blocking his escape route with his Nail Head Hammer pointed at him.

The Holy Light was contained, but its heavy, oppressive presence was enough to make the injured spellcaster feel like he was suffocating.

Ellis quickly moved to flank the caster with Holland, forming a pincer. A gem shimmering with Arcane Magic had appeared in his hand at some point, and he pointed it at their foe, ready to activate the protective or Binding Spell stored within.

In just a few short breaths, the two previously arrogant High Tower Spellcasters were neutralized. One was struggling wretchedly in the quicksand, his wrists and knee injured.

The other was cornered, suffering from an injured arm and magical backlash, his face ashen.

And Roland, the one who had orchestrated all of this, had already released his grip on the spellcaster in the quicksand and was slowly straightening up.

His breathing was steady, as if that lightning-fast series of movements had been nothing more than a warm-up.

The ghostly purple Short Spike had been silently returned to its sheath at some point. Only his deep, dark eyes remained, calmly sweeping over the two captives who could no longer resist. His gaze finally settled on Bronson, who was now sitting slumped on the ground, still in shock, the Binding Spell having dissipated when its caster was injured.

Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into a slight smile.

"Long time no see, Mr. Bronson."