Chapter 50: The Mightiest Man on Earth
“Is everyone ready? I’m about to begin.”
Abyss turned to face the assembled Druids.
They nodded, their apprentices having informed the nearby mages about the impending mana disruption. Some mages, curious to witness this feat, had even come to observe, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man whose mana capacity supposedly surpassed even the sacred tree. They sat perched in the surrounding trees, waiting.
Abyss had met with Arcaiste earlier. Although the Grand Sage had opposed his plan, he had dutifully made the necessary arrangements. Now, everything was ready.
Within an hour, the Druids had taken their positions. The high-ranking Druids stood nearby, ready to observe the mana flow. Their apprentices, some observing, some maintaining order, while others were still away, informing the nearby cities about the upcoming event.
“I’m counting on you three if anything unexpected happens,” Abyss said, turning to his followers.
Leona, holding Flora’s hand, puffed out her chest. “Don’t worry about us. I’ve given you my word. I, Leona, would split my skull open to protect you. Right, Flora?”
Flora nodded seriously. “I’ll split mine too.”
“I’m ready as well, Abyss. Don’t hesitate. If anything happens, I’ll handle it,” Rebecca said, her voice filled with confidence.
Abyss looked at them, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. These seemingly delicate girls were his most reliable allies. With them by his side, he had nothing to fear.
“I’m about to drain the mana from around the sacred tree. I’ll be focusing all my energy on this task. I’m relying on you to observe the mana flow,” he said, addressing the Druids. “Don’t miss any details. Be vigilant—I have faith in your abilities. Now, let’s begin.”
Without further ado, he began chanting, his body rising slowly into the air, lifted by wind magic, reaching a point halfway up the sacred tree’s trunk, the ideal vantage point for his spell.
He then switched to another incantation, and those nearby felt a shift in the atmosphere.
His previous demonstration had only drained a small area, its effect so swift and subtle that most hadn’t even noticed. This time, however, he was draining a vast area, a task even his immense mana capacity couldn’t accomplish instantly. It would take time.
Some of the high-ranking Druids sat down, removing their clothes, the women retaining minimal coverings, the men completely naked. Unlike ordinary mages, Druids could sense mana flow through their skin, a more efficient method than using visualization spells.
They focused their senses, each monitoring their designated area.
Abyss’s body became a vortex, drawing in the dense mana, its flow so powerful that even the surrounding plants reacted, their branches and leaves swaying towards him.
The mages watching from the trees felt a strange pressure, a suffocating sensation, emanating from him. Their instincts told them to stay away from this human boy floating in the air, lest he drain their mana, their very life force.
It was like the awe and fear a commoner felt before a king. Elves, their society democratic, didn’t have kings, but the word echoed in their minds.
“My god, what power is this? I’ve never heard of such a powerful Druid,” one mage whispered.
“The mana here is thinning. He’s still absorbing it…”
“Someone this powerful could easily destroy our world.”
“Don’t be absurd! What about the Church’s Divine Arts? But… he is strong… Perhaps he’s as powerful as Agnes…”
“No, Agnes was stronger… Perhaps he’s her illegitimate son?”
“Watch your tongue! Agnes was a pure and virtuous soul!”
The mana continued to flow towards Abyss, its concentration in the surrounding area decreasing rapidly. The Druids felt a strange lightness, as if they had stepped out of a sauna, their skin, usually moist from the ambient mana, now dry.
They gulped, some in awe, some in regret, having voted for Abyss’s plan—if he were an enemy, he could easily destroy them all.
Abyss, however, wasn’t having an easy time.
He was constantly absorbing mana, compressing and containing it within his body, then releasing it into the upper atmosphere, where it would slowly dissipate before returning to the earth. This massive influx and outflow of mana strained his magic core. He couldn’t afford any distractions. The slightest mistake could lead to a catastrophic mana surge.
His breathing slowed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
And then, as he chanted, his vision went black—something had blocked his sight.
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