As a mage, Moon understood perfectly well what it meant to lose control of a powerful, unstable spell during casting. It wasn't merely dangerous or risky, it was absolutely catastrophic.
His current Ignite skill contained enough power that losing control would result in its detonation at point-blank range. The explosion would outright kill him instantly, reducing his body to nothing but fine ash and vapor.
He would resurrect after, but he would have lost a great loss. With so much mana wasted, the debuffs of death would be brutal to have.
"TAKE THIS!" Moon roared with a final effort, hurling the massive yet compact fireball directly toward the settlement of the Heretics.
The colossal sphere of death streaked through the air like a descending meteor of pure fire.
The Black Raven continued its desperate screeching attacks during the precious few seconds the attack was launched in, desperately trying to destabilize or deflect the incoming spell through sonic waves.
