I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game-Chapter 91

It was Maltiel’s first attempt at this particular spell. If there were no flaws in his magic, it would be unnatural.

‘...But this magic is dangerous.’

Despite that, the boy couldn’t ignore the cold filling his lungs.

Regardless of the spell’s efficiency, the sheer volume of mana that Maltiel was pouring into it was overwhelming.

The Great Commander was using 70% of the mana he could store within his body for this spell.

The boy didn’t know this, but Maltiel was pouring 70% of his mana into this single spell.

The immense amount of mana leakage was being covered by an overwhelming volume of mana.

Academically inefficient and crude, but strategically, this was the best option Maltiel had at this moment.

The boy quickly moved his stiff legs and arms to stand in front of the orc with red skin.

Tinnitus and black light.

Soon, an overwhelming amount of energy, beyond understanding, began rushing toward the boy. At the same time, a faint blue shield enveloped the boy.

The boy’s head was ringing, as if his skull was about to explode. Frustration surged to the top of his head, and his hands and feet began to tremble.

“......”

The orc, who had been crouching to enter the boy’s protective shield, regained his senses and looked around at the scene before him, unable to speak.

The mountain had completely vanished. No more slopes, trees, or earth.

Instead, there was an immense expanse of land, and in the center, there was a small orb the size of a fingertip.

Soon, both the boy and the orc began to fall. Originally, they had been standing on a slope in the middle of the mountain. But since the mountain had completely disappeared, they were now plummeting through the air, along with a few handfuls of dirt.

Beneath their feet was a deep pit, with the exposed bedrock clearly visible.

Even the old orc, a seasoned warrior, couldn’t fathom how far they had to fall before they would hit the ground.

Suddenly, an immense wind blew from behind them. Enormous energy exploded, and everything around them was turned to nothing. The huge gust of wind surged to fill the vacuum created by the explosion.

The boy and the orc were caught in the tremendous aftershock and were scattered in all directions.

Rex, regaining his senses late, reached out toward the boy, but it was already far too late.

“Jangguuuuunn!”

Rex shouted the boy’s name with a loud voice, but the boy’s ears and eyes hadn’t yet regained their function.

The boy’s “Blessing of the Spirits” protected him from the intense heat and wind, but it couldn’t shield him from the overwhelming light.

The boy, like someone hit directly by a flashbang, was in no condition to regain his senses. His senses were dulled, and his brain couldn’t process any thoughts.

“...I won.”

In the eye of the storm, from the deepest part of the vast pit, a voice that seemed to mockingly chuckle echoed.

From the small black orb the size of a fingertip, flesh and bones slowly began to grow, eventually forming Maltiel’s body.

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Maltiel’s regeneration was visibly slow. The immense amount of mana consumed, and the explosion he had created with that very mana had hit him directly.

Maltiel tried to move his legs, which were now just exposed bones. He only wanted to rip the boy’s heart from his chest as quickly as possible.

But the Great Commander’s legs, exposed with bones, were swept up in the storm that gathered toward the center, breaking and breaking again.

Eventually, the Great Commander Maltiel couldn’t move as he was still recovering his body.

“Hmm.”

However, after a moment, Maltiel seemed to accept that he couldn’t move to finish off the boy and stopped in place.

Looking at the boy, it seemed like it would take at least ten seconds for him to regain his senses. And ten seconds would be more than enough time for the boy’s body to crash into the ground.

‘His brain isn’t functioning, so using magic is impossible. He can’t deploy a shield.’

The boy would fall to his death in a /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ matter of seconds. His fragile body would turn to mush and scatter on the ground, and his bones would turn to dust, spread all over.

Maltiel reached this conclusion and patiently waited for his body to fully recover.

“That orc... has an annoying artifact. It’s better to finish him off.”

Maltiel turned his eyes from the boy and looked at the orc, who was falling to the ground with an axe and horn in hand.

Crunch!

Rex’s large feet collided with the pit, and the sound of bones breaking could be heard clearly from dozens of meters away, even by Maltiel’s ears.

“...This damn!”

The orc, whose leg bones had shattered from the unexpected fall, was still swept away by the aftershock, tumbling to the side. Maltiel, almost fully recovered, carefully stepped toward Rex.

It was at that moment.

“Falling to your death. After so long, I can’t let you have such a boring end.”

The origin of the magic.

The first lightning.

The bound transcendence.

A voice that belonged to an entity with countless tinnitus and absurd legends, more fantastical than the clouds themselves, resonated.

Maltiel immediately turned around at the omnipotent voice coming from behind him.

“At least die while fighting. This is so absurd I can’t even speak.”

There, standing with a white-haired boy on his back, was the Lightning Spirit, Dajin.

“...Well, it’s over.”

In the vast desert to the west of Bellarand.

This vast desert, often referred to as the “Golden Sea” due to the sand covering 80% of it, was where the Great Commander Mikael mumbled with a desolate expression.

“If you’re going to give up, at least tell me where the core is. I’m a little busy right now.”

Of course, the one blocking Mikael’s path was the swordsman.

“...That’s not happening. My duty is to bind your feet until you’re about to die. Even if it means saving one Great Commander, that is my duty.”

Mikael began to cover his body with black barriers.

With quick and efficient magical calculations, he layered more than ten barriers around his body in less than three seconds.

‘I need to cover myself with as many barriers as possible. I need to last even one more second.’

After all, the swordsman wouldn’t be able to leave the desert until he killed Mikael. Mikael planned to make the most of this fact.

‘The difference in skill is overwhelming. A sloppy attack will only backfire. The key now is how long I can endure.’

“You’re not even going to fight?”

Mikael couldn’t answer. His mouth was busy chanting spells for a more solid barrier.

Just solidly, persistently.

Mikael’s goal wasn’t to defeat the swordsman, but to delay his own death for as long as possible.

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“This is embarrassingly ugly.”

The swordsman’s words carried a deep disdain with no discernible origin.

“Are you not even going to fight, as a living being? It’s just pathetic and disgusting.”

The swordsman, seeing Mikael accept his death without emotion, slowly began to ready himself.

“What were you born for? Was it just to kill something?”

His legs slowly spread, shoulder-width apart.

“What do you gain by killing other lives? What do you get for serving the Demon King’s orders so eagerly?”

His knees slightly bent, preparing for the coming impact.

“I’ve never met a demon who answers such a simple question.”

He gripped the hilt of his sword as if he were about to break it.

“You’re the same.”

He slowly raised his clenched hands to eye level.

The eerie sword tip aimed at the swordsman.

“I’m disgusted.”

With all his strength, he swung the blade diagonally.

The sword sliced through Mikael’s body, passing through the barriers. Trapped within the barriers, Mikael’s movements were restricted, and he was shredded into pieces.

It had been about 6 minutes and 20 seconds since the swordsman arrived in Bellarand.

The third Great Commander lost his life.