The sorcerers hesitated. Individually, they might face Malrick—and even feel eager. But together... Even Superman himself, relying only on magic, could be quickly defeated with a single Crimson Bands of Cyttorak.
This was their concern—not underestimating Malrick, but fearing for their leader's reputation. They didn't want the newly appointed Sorcerer Supreme to lose credibility.
Malrick sensed their hesitation.
He snapped his fingers, and the Mirror Dimension silently expanded, enveloping all of Kamar-Taj.
"Be careful," he warned.
The ground surged outward like storm-tossed sea. In moments, the training courtyard stretched a kilometer wide. Waves four to five meters tall rolled across the brick surface, crushing anything in their path.
Some slower sorcerers were buried up to their necks—the first casualties, about sixty percent of the group. Their heads remained visible, eyes wide with shock like lost radishes.
The survivors reacted swiftly, launching themselves onto walls or riding Winds of Watoomb to safety. When they touched solid ground again—and saw the buried—they shed lingering doubts. Malrick had already demonstrated power far beyond theirs.
They circled him with grim determination. A few portals opened behind him—tons of Crimson Bands of Cyttorak hurtling in his direction. Hidden below were dozens of Vishanti's Holy Swords, with hundreds of other spell-weapons held in reserve.
Some sorcerers tried tampering with the Mirror Dimension itself, but Malrick held full control.
"Now that's more like it," Malrick said, calm and collected. A single hand seal brought forth shields—Seraphim Shields, glowing and seamless, protecting him entirely. The ground shifted as dozens of massive earth blocks erupted and reached up to lift him, collapsing the portals.
Even as nearly half the sorcerers tumbled into chasms, almost one hundred Crimson Bands slammed harmlessly into the shields.
Wong clung to a rock and tried again: a portal beneath Malrick. Meanwhile Mordo vaulted to an upended building with a chain-wrapped boulder.
Other sorcerers followed—teleporting back from distant ledges, maneuvering in three dimensions around Malrick.
Yet Malrick avoided their traps with precision. Ignoring brute force, he harnessed pure magic.
"It's my turn."
His hair untouched, he formed a hand seal and summoned Vishanti's Holy Sword—his energy, strong enough to rival a genetic primal force.
In a flash, he invoked Form of Ikonn, a duplication spell that replicates not only himself but also his weapons. That single sword multiplied into thousands, raining down like judgment upon the circling sorcerers.
"Defensive shields, now!" Mordo shouted.
Hundreds cast Seraphim Shields again, merging them into one sprawling dome. The raining swords struck with thunderous fluttering sounds, then dissolved.
"Bolts of Balthakk, unite!" Mordo commanded.
Wong hesitated, but Mordo insisted. Golden lightning bolts surged, arcing across the landscape in crackling loops toward Malrick.
The Bolts of Balthakk are among Kamar-Taj's most potent offensive spells—leaping with increasing power across material surfaces.
Malrick didn't retreat. Instead, he raised a mudra to form a radiant golden shield—Hoggoth's Ancient Spell, or Ancient Form. The stream of lightning, already intensified by rebounds, froze midair.
Shields met spells in a spectacular clash. The lightning surge and shield shattered into thousands of emerald butterflies—a stunning demonstration of power.
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