Inheritor Of Magic: The Magi King

A great round of cheering went up from the witches along the defensive line, and they continued to fire into the Horde, pausing sporadically to allow the vines to smash a wave of attackers away from the boundary.

Here, they were standing on a low stone wall that had been erected to mark the border of the Free Covens territory, so they could mostly see over the tentacles, but their priority was the enemies closest to the border, and their aim was slowly adjusting so that they would get the ones a few rows back, leaving minimal overlap between the edge of the explosion and the front rank of the undead.

That often led to the bodies being thrown into the barrier, which activated the flames and vines, leading to a flurry of flaming tentacle violence, but that also helped keep the undead away, as the vines would attack anything in their reach, and not just those that were close enough to have triggered the reaction.

That would also make it nearly impossible to get away from such a barrier in normal circumstances. When you triggered the vines, you were already twenty metres into their attack range, both horizontally and vertically, so an extremely rapid escape would be needed if you were hoping to make one at all.

"Well, what do you think? It's a pretty spicy barrier, isn't it?" Wolfe asked the town protectors who were flying nearby.

"I must say, that combination is far more savage than I had expected. The Unholy Fire spreads through the undead at an incredible pace, and they don't seem to have any way to deal with it." One of the Fae agreed.

"You should see what Nether Lightning does to the undead. They're only animated by the remnant soul that is attached to them, so Nether Lightning turns them into corpses with even the slightest amount of damage. They seem somewhat grateful for it most of the time. It returns the undead to the underworld where they belong, and they can finally rest." Wolfe replied.

"Nether Lightning might be a bit extreme for a protective barrier, since the damage that it does can't be properly healed if it hits something living. But this combination is just the right combination of effective and merciless." One of the others informed him in a serious tone.

Soul damage was generally considered taboo in all but the most extreme of cases, so Nether Lightning was out of the question in the minds of the Fae. Wolfe made a mental note not to use it casually in front of them, just so that he didn't cause any incidents in the future, then settled in to watch the festivities as the witches dealt with the undead.

Thanks to a barrier that wouldn't be broken, and an enemy that could neither fly nor attack at a long enough range to fight back, the battle along the border was a one-sided slaughter, releasing thousands of zombies to eternal rest.The most update n0vels are published on ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet

"Do we know where these undead came from? I don't mean today, I mean when they were alive." An Elven man with plain grey robes on asked Wolfe politely.

"I see at least three groups. The ones in the bronze are soldiers from the human armies during the Great War two hundred years ago. The ones in tattered rags are the human or Magi civilians that fell in battle on this continent, and the rest are the soldiers and civilians of the Witch Covens, either foreign or domestic." Wolfe explained.

"Well, that is bothersome. I am hoping to do a unified internment ceremony so that the undead don't rise again. It's not unheard of in Faerie for the spirits of those slain in battle to rise in a new form after a battle, and there are a lot of dead here today who could become spectres, ghouls and other undead that don't take the original body as their host.

If we purge the area, it should let them rest." He offered.

Wolfe frowned and looked south. "There are battlefields like this for a thousand kilometres along the borderline. But anything will help. Would you like a Mana Purification Amulet for your trouble? It will work both as payment and assistance for your services."

The Elven priest considered that for a moment and then nodded. "I believe that should be sufficient for me to work here for the winter, as long as the local hosts are up to standard."

A few of the Fae looked vaguely offended at the suggestion that their hospitality might be lacking, but they also represented small border towns with a population smaller than many of the Elven temples. At Rank Six, the Elf was a High Priest, and likely from a Royal bloodline, meaning his standards would be incredibly high, and his arrogance would likely be something close to matching them, even if he tried to be humble.

Wolfe smiled at the Elf. "I am certain that they will do their very best. The borderlands have a particular rustic charm that you might appreciate. They are very at one with nature, but not in the same way that the forest folk usually are."

Meaning that they were often dirt poor and being close to the land involved sometimes sleeping on it. But that wasn't the point. They would do their best to host a guest, and the villages were almost entirely witches here, with rarely a human to be seen, so the gardens would be abundant after the locals' power had increased so drastically.

An old witch, with her knobby hands firmly gripped around a broom, flew over to talk to Wolfe and overheard the last of their conversation.

"Is it true what I hear: that the Elves are entirely vegetarian? I have a new soup, you see, and I wonder if you would like to try it after I speak with this young fellow?" She asked in a slow and wheezing voice.

The Elf seemed to carefully sniff her, as the Fae were very sensitive to Black Witches, and any witch who lived out here had at least used combat magic, even if they rarely dabbled in curses. But he didn't turn her down.

"I am always interested in the specialties of a new land. If you believe it will be to my liking, I will gladly try your cooking." The Priest agreed.

"Excellent. Such a kind young man. Now, Mister Wolfe, could you spare this old lady a charm for my great-granddaughter? She will be ten soon, and I have heard from the town guardian that witches her age are close to the point where they can start awakening with some help."

The Elf and Wolfe shared a smile, mostly about the priest being called a young man, when he was more likely to be three times her age, but Wolfe hurried to help her out.

"Babushka, it is best if you return to the ground. You're too old to be flying up here in the cold. I will make your great-

granddaughter a charm to purify the last of the bloodline curse from her body, so she will awaken naturally when it is time." Wolfe replied, and the old woman cackled with laughter.

"I'm not so old that I can't stand a bit of autumn breeze. Thank you, Mister Wolfe. I will send you a gift in exchange before spring comes."