The Chief Mage

That evening, the troops set up camp on a flat, open field.

The setting sun burned the clouds on the horizon into a deep crimson, and the evening breeze blew from the west, carrying the dry scent of dust.

The various units pitched their tents according to their pre-allocated areas, and campfires lit up one after another across the grounds.

Deep within the main camp stood a tent that was a full size larger than those around it. It stood alone inside a restricted area cordoned off by ropes, guarded by six fully armed sentries. Ordinary soldiers were not allowed to approach without permission.

This was the exclusive tent of Magnus Flynn, Count Nigel's chief mage, and one of the most heavily guarded locations in the entire coalition army.

The coalition's ability to blow open the city walls with fireballs during the siege of Fort Morris and to turn the entire forest to ashes with rain of fire during the woodland clearing operation was entirely the work of this old mage.

At this moment, the interior of the tent was brightly lit by four magical lamps floating in the air. Magnus sat at a wide folding table, rapidly calculating a complex spell formula on a sheet of parchment.

Except for the faint scratching of the quill on the paper, there was hardly any other sound in the tent.

Although he had been working at his desk for several hours, there was not a trace of fatigue on Magnus's face.

The coalition was drawing closer and closer to the Cliffside Mountains, and the defenses of the goblin main nest remained a mystery. He had to complete this modified spell, specifically designed for large-scale clustered targets, before the official battle began.

This was his insurance policy.

In case the battle went poorly, he could at least use this spell to level the pursuing forces along with half the mountain before the front line collapsed. As for whether friendly forces would be caught in the blast, he considered that an acceptable collateral damage.

A faint hissing sound came from his rear flank. Magnus instantly stopped his work, his left hand making a tiny, silent gesture.

A glint of blue light flashed across his fingertips.

It was an alarm spell he kept active on his body year-round, now warning him with a slight stinging sensation at his fingertips.

And right now, this alarm was telling him that something that shouldn't be there had appeared near his tent.

They were approaching him from three different directions, moving in an extremely quiet manner.

Magnus set down his quill, gripped his staff with his right hand, and stood up.

In the next instant, the tent was slashed open in three places, and three figures rapidly closed in on him.

Their bodies were only half the height of a normal human, their skin was a dull grayish-green, and they held daggers in their hands.

Goblin assassins. Magnus's pupils contracted slightly.

“Guards!” he barked. At the same time, he pointed his staff forward, and a searing Fire Arrow shot from the tip, heading straight for the face of the middle assassin.

There was no response from outside the tent.

The Fire Arrow struck its mark, blowing off half the leading assassin's head and sending its body flying backward out of the tent.

But at the same time, the other two assassins launched attacks from opposite directions. One slashed from the left toward the arm holding his staff, while the other went straight for the back of his neck from the rear right.

Magnus slammed his staff hard onto the ground, and a visible shockwave exploded outward with him at the center.

The shockwave blasted the assassin on his flank through the air, sending it crashing into a row of wooden shelves piled high with books and scrolls.

However, the assassin attacking from behind was not blown away. It crouched low an instant before the shockwave erupted, sinking its claws into the dirt beneath its feet and stubbornly weathering the impact.

The shockwave only caused its body to sway slightly, and it immediately leaped up even faster, aiming its dagger straight at Magnus's throat.

The distance was too close to cast another area-of-effect spell. Magnus hastily turned and swung his staff to parry.

The collision of the dagger and the staff produced a piercing screech, the blade leaving several shallow gouges in the staff's hardwood.

The assassin's strength was far greater than he had anticipated, vastly exceeding what a normal goblin should possess. Although this strike didn't break the staff, the impact left the web of his hand completely numb.

And just as he regained his footing, the assassin that had been blown back by the shockwave scrambled back to its feet.

Magnus held nothing back. Raising his staff high, the crystal at its tip suddenly erupted with a blinding white light.

Dozens of fine wind blades materialized out of thin air inside the tent, shooting toward the two assassins simultaneously and tearing the air inside into a sharp, whistling shriek.

Wherever the wind blades passed, corners of tables were sliced off, wooden shelves were shredded into splinters, and the canvas ground cover was slashed with countless tears.

One of the assassins was sliced into several pieces, while the last one managed to dodge most of the wind blades with incredibly fast reflexes, leaving only a deep, bone-deep gash torn across its flank.

Magnus pointed his staff at the final assassin, a red glow suddenly flaring at the tip.

A second Fire Arrow shot out, blowing the goblin into a bloody mess.

However, the alarm spell triggered once more.

More figures were approaching, their positions scattered as they closed in to encircle the tent.

The guards had still not appeared, and the Count seemed unaware of the situation here, having sent no reinforcements.

Magnus frowned. He was primarily a backline mage who specialized in long-range fire support, best suited to standing behind friendly lines and calmly channeling spells, not being swarmed in close quarters by a pack of goblin assassins.

Right now, he had absolutely no room to establish distance to cast, and every large-scale spell he released was merely trading mana for time.

If there were high-level assassins among them, they would be even harder to deal with.

Just then, his alarm spell sensed another figure bursting into the battlefield. Immediately after, the sounds of fighting echoed from outside, and several presences representing the goblin assassins vanished.

Magnus did not rashly go outside to check. He remained in the tent, keeping himself ready to cast.

Before long, the tent flap was violently pulled back from the outside.

A figure stepped into the tent from the darkness of the night, holding a sword that was still dripping with blood.

Magnus instinctively tightened his grip on his staff, the crystal at its tip lighting up once more. But when he saw the gear and posture of the newcomer, the glow faded slightly.

The newcomer was a human warrior.

“The Count ordered me to come and protect you. He received word that there might be infiltrators near the camp and was worried about your safety.”

Magnus did not reply immediately, quickly assessing the current situation. Several goblin assassins had been dealt with by the newcomer, but the remaining ones were still closing in.

Although the man had killed a few goblins, he was an unfamiliar face. Even if he claimed to have been sent by the Count, he could not be fully trusted.

“Hold them off. Don't let a single one get close to me,” he commanded briefly, his tone still carrying the unquestionable authority of a superior speaking to a subordinate.

“Understood,” the warrior replied curtly. He then turned his back to Magnus, bracing himself for combat.

Magnus first cast a magical shield over himself before beginning to channel a new round of offensive spells.