A barrage of spells erupted from the crystal, thirty streaks of light cutting through the falling snow.
"Ice Magic: Sleeping Barrage!"
...
The spell was a long, white streak, no longer than four meters. It launched through the air, seeking targets according to the caster's will. The number of projectiles depended entirely on the caster's intent. Upon impact, the target would be hit with a surge of exhaustion so profound they would fall into an unbreakable sleep. It was an advanced impulse spell.
Thirty of these barrages scattered across the sky of the city, each finding its mark. From the ground, the magic was a spectacle. The white streaks drifted through the air, scattering and shifting directions in a hauntingly beautiful dance.
A child pointed upward. "Mom, look! Fireworks!"
"Wow," the mother replied, equally captivated. "Is there an event today that requires so many?"
"I don't care, it's beautiful!" the child cheered.
Every person outside stopped to watch, and in doing so, fell into the trap. Hypnosis Spell: Silent Zenith. By combining the hypnosis with slow-movement magic, the viewers were frozen in body and thought. Once released, no memory of the event would remain.
Lucian moved through the stagnant city toward the southern gate. While the spell held the masses, he had to capture the five primary perpetrators.
His first target: Lavenire, the Lady of Fire.
Matthew had described her as a lethal anomaly. One of the strongest fire mages in the southern threshold, she eschewed traditional distance fighting for brutal, close-quarters combat. She had reduced her chanting time by nearly half through sheer talent, inheriting her father's prowess for fist-fighting and her mother's fire magic.
Her style was known as "Infernal Core Fist." It relied on raw physical strength paired with fire that never burned the skin. Instead, the heat bypassed the surface, entering the body on impact. Organs absorbed the damage; bones rattled from the inside out. Externally, her victims looked fine, but the internal destruction was severe. A punch felt normal at first, but agony followed seconds later as the heat spread, leading to a rapid collapse.
Fight her at long range, Lucian reminded himself. Fire's weaknesses were Air and Ice. With his element, he had the advantage, but he remained cautious; he couldn't match her years of experience.
After walking across a path of frozen oxygen, he reached the city's southern gate—a fortress built to repel massive monsters. He climbed to a wide parapet and waited in the moonlight.
Finally, he saw her. She had straight vermilion hair reaching past her waist and short bangs. She wore a brown cropped top, revealing her tanned skin and belly button, a short skirt with several pockets, and black leather boots.
Lucian pointed his staff. "Ice Magic: Mindbound Igloo."
A small igloo formed above Lavenire and fell, sealing her inside instantly. To an outsider, it looked ordinary, but inside, the victim's body froze while their mind drifted into a vast, frozen expanse of endless snow. The space existed only within perception—a mental gate.
Inside the illusion, Lavenire stopped. Her breath fogged. "This isn't teleportation," she muttered, her eyes scanning the frost. "The mana flow feels trapped. Twisted."
She readied her fists. The space reacted to her intent; frost pillars rose around her, reflecting her image with a slight, haunting delay. "So you respond to intent, not movement," she said. "A sealed mental domain."
In reality, Lucian stood right beside her, watching. The spell was incomplete, lacking "Worldwide Sight," so he had to remain physically present to ensure she lost consciousness. Satisfied, Lucian's presence faded from the mental space, leaving Lavenire alone in the cold.
Lucian stood up and took a breath. Next: Ammon Sinclair.
Matthew had described Ammon as the weakest of the five, though he had reached the Well Rank of the Golden Core. His control was abysmal; he couldn't even cast an Intermediate spell properly. His magic was random, chaotic, and often missed its mark. He was a man who lived for thrill and joined the group only for food and shelter. He was also the one who had looked after Matthew's sister.
Lucian flew to the eastern bar district. He slipped into a dark alley near a tavern where the patrons, insulated from the sky, were still partying. Inside, the air was thick with noise and alcohol. He found Ammon sitting on a couch, surrounded by six women. He had dark hair, white skin, and looked to be in his thirties, dressed in a clean white shirt, a dark vest, and simple pants.
"I'll give you 50 gold coins. Talk to me outside," Lucian said.
Ammon grinned. "Haha! You know how to tempt me! Girls, wait here while I rob this man! Haha!"
Outside, Ammon draped an arm over Lucian's shoulder. "What is it? A girlfriend problem?"
"I'm here to capture you," Lucian said, his face cold. "Surrender and we save the trouble. You'll get the 50 gold—after your time in jail."
Ammon laughed. "Haha! Capture me? I'll gladly surrender if you provide for my needs!"
Before he could finish, Lucian struck him sharply across the nape of the neck. Ammon collapsed instantly. Lucian caught him, slung him over his back, and whispered, "Sigh... Three more left."
Lucian appeared in Everett's office, dropping Ammon onto the couch. Everett spun around, his composure breaking.
"What are you doing here? And who is that?"
"Ammon Sinclair. One of the perpetrators," Lucian explained. "I've already caught two. I need you for the others. There are thirty-five total; thirty are currently frozen by my spell, but the remaining three are influential in this city."
Everett massaged his temples. "You're serious? Where did you get this information?"
"From a betrayer within their group," Lucian said, eyes cold. "I need you, Everett. The next targets won't be as easy to take quietly."
Everett sighed and nodded. "Wait here. I'll put this man in a cell."
When he returned, Lucian noticed Everett hadn't grabbed a weapon. "Are you not bringing yours?"
Everett looked at Lucian for a long pause, then walked to his desk. He took a four-meter-long rectangular box off a hanger and slung it onto his back. "I'm ready. Where to?"
"To the eastern gate. We're teleporting."
Everett's eyes widened. "You can use that?"
"Of course," Lucian said. "Though I only have a few uses left in my container."
Before another word could be spoken, they vanished. They reappeared in the City of Ancient—the 900-year-old capital and the heart of the Southern Threshold.