Seraph stowed the gold nugget within his cloak, savoring the moment. He prepared to rise and resume his hunt for the remaining undead, yet in that heartbeat, his premonition shrieked a sudden, violent warning. The young man sensed a lethal threat lunging from the abyss beyond the chamber's maw!
He snapped his head toward the entrance just as a dark silhouette hurtled inward. The jagged point of a steel pickaxe whistled through the air, aimed squarely at his cranium. He leveled his wooden staff, intoning an incantation with desperate celerity!
"Ventus Shellux!" Seraph unleashed the defensive wind art in a frantic breath.
[Boom!]
A shield of mageia manifested before Seraph the instant the words left his lips. The assailant, caught off guard by the speed of the counter-maneuver, slammed into the gale with savage force. The resulting atmospheric eruption rattled the entire vault, nearly sweeping Seraph off his feet.
Both the young man and his foe were hurled in opposite directions by the shockwave. While the blast of wind inflicted little physical harm, Seraph was well-acquainted with the attributes of his craft and had braced himself; though forced backward, he did not fall.
In that instant, Seraph beheld his adversary. The demon standing before him was indeed an undead miner, yet it was distinct from the common husks.
This undead was unmistakably an alpha. Its frame was notably more massive than the other miners, and its eye sockets glowed with a cryptic, emerald luminescence. Its fangs protruded visibly from its maw, and it brandished a pickaxe with predatory intent.
While the other undead were fearsome in their ferocity, none of the demons the young man had encountered thus far had carried armaments or displayed any knowledge of utilizing human tools. They knew only the use of claw and fang to rend their prey.
The high-tier undead before him was a departure from the common miner husks. Its frame was exceptionally massive, and its eyes flickered with a dull green luminescence in the dark. Its body was thick with long fur, signaling its transition toward becoming a demonic beast. The calculated ambush had displayed a clear sapience; though it harbored a ferocity greater than any beast, it exuded a far more lethal aura.
"Hyghul!" Seraph exclaimed in shock.
The Hyghul was a variant of the ghoul, a high-tier undead. However, the alpha gave its prey no quarter to deliberate. Having been sent sprawling by the wind mageia, it seized its pickaxe and lunged at the human with a feral madness. It bared its fangs, unleashing a roar that thundered through the vault, spraying dull green saliva across the stone.
"Shut your rot-stench mouth!" the young man hissed.
"Flamus Bulletrix!" Seraph unleashed the art.
[Bang! Bang! Bang!]
The young magis surged his mageia power to its threshold, the light within the chamber flickering violently. Ten fire bullets were discharged, creating a sonic shockwave that rang through the cave. The dancing shadows marked the commencement of a brutal skirmish.
The Hyghul swiftly raised its pickaxe to shield its face. Most of the mageia projectiles impacted the metal tool; the sound of metal clashing rang out as sparks flew, as if legendary weapons of war were meeting in mid-air. Some bullets struck its frame, forcing the creature to skid backward.
The Hyghul's skin was as thick as natural armour. Some fire bullets embedded themselves beneath the hide, yet they pierced only the shallowest layers. Moreover, as most of the mageia bullets missed the heart, the undead alpha remained virtually unscathed.
The Hyghul swung the pickaxe with violent momentum, the weapon shearing through the air with a terrifying whistle. The jagged point whistled toward the human with the speed of a magnetic pull.
"Not good!" the young man cried, his eyes widening.
"Ventus Shellux!" Seraph intoned the wind shield once more.
[Boom!]
The wind shield erupted again. The mageia repelled the undead, forcing it back, yet this time it seemed the creature had learned with terrifying celerity. The Hyghul did not fall, nor was it hurled far.
It barely wasted a heartbeat before lunging to strike the mortal once more. The Hyghul brandished its pickaxe with such blinding celerity that the human eye could scarcely track the steel; its movements were those of a berserker lost to bloodlust.
"Curse Hells!" Seraph hissed, struggling to maintain his mageia.
The young man sustained his defensive ward, unable to lower his guard for even a fraction of a second. The strength of the alpha demon, transmitted through the pickaxe as it hammered against the wind shield, sent violent shockwaves through his frame. With every brutal impact, his boots were forced to skid backward across the stone.
Typically, a magis could intone a single incantation while augmenting the mana flow to sustain the spell indefinitely. Alternatively, they could weave a spell and hold it in a state of suspension before unleashing it.
However, such suspension demanded an ever-increasing toll of mana as time progressed. Most magis shunned the practice, preferring to cast multiple successions of spells rather than endure the ruinous drain of a held enchantment.
Yet, should Seraph dissolve his defensive art now, the Hyghul's pickaxe would pierce his skull in the very next second.
While the young man struggled to find an escape from this stalemate, a chorus of cryptic roars erupted from beyond the chamber's maw.
Before Seraph could discern the source of the noise, five more low-tier demon miners galloped into the vault. They swarmed him, circling like vultures to find a breach in the wind shield's perimeter. The young man was now entirely besieged within a tomb of stone.
"Come at me, you cowards! One on one!" Seraph's roar echoed through the vault, though it did little to mask the frantic beat of his heart.
The six undead were unmoved by his defiance. Instead, a chorus of guttural snarls closed in from the dark. With its minions keeping the pressure on, the Hyghul didn't wait. It dropped to all fours, its claws scraping against the stone as it scrambled up the cavern walls, circling like a predator toward his blind spot.
"Shit!" Seraph snapped, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the net closing in.
"Ventus Turbinis!" Seraph's shout reverberated through every crack in the stone.
The air within the chamber surged at his command, coalescing into a churning whirlwind. Seraph dared not employ explosive mageia that might compromise the cavern's integrity and trigger a collapse; even the cyclonic force of the wind was enough to make the mine vault shudder.
Though the ventus element lacked the sheer destructive violence of fire, the spell's impact was sufficient to tear the Hyghul from its perch. The gale wrenched the high-tier demon from the ceiling, slamming it violently against the cavern floor. Simultaneously, the winds repelled the other demon minions, casting them backward and granting the young man a fleeting moment of respite.
Seraph felt a stifling pressure in his chest, as if invisible hands were constricting his throat; combat within such narrow confines felt akin to fighting with bound limbs. Without a second's delay, he wove his next incantation.
"Ventus Telaris!" Seraph unleashed the art.
[Whir! Whir! Whir!]
A multitude of mageia projectiles materialized around him, each one spinning with predatory celerity to charge its piercing force. Then, with a series of thunderous reports, they were discharged from mid-air. The mageia roared with a rapid, violent cadence, echoing the relentless barrage of a weapon of war.