I guess I worried about nothing.0

Miguel let out a hollow chuckle and turned his gaze forward. The fiery glow of the sacred fire’s veil illuminated the battlefield ahead, flickering like an inferno.0

Crackle—snap!0

Ian’s figure came into sharper focus, his back turned to the soldiers as arcs of lightning streaked upward from his raised hand.0

Ian held a massive greatsword in his right hand, its weight causing it to hang low, while his entire body radiated a crimson divine aura. From behind, he looked less like a mage and more like the avatar of a god commanding thunder and lightning.0

Honestly, it wouldn’t be strange if he really was a demigod.0

A mage beloved by the gods, chosen as the Superhuman of the God of Battle. Having spent years surrounded by the scent of ink in the temple, Miguel understood better than most how utterly absurd that was.0

Even Lucia still clung to the belief that Ian was the mythical White Mage of legend. However, Miguel didn’t question it anymore. Ian was called a transcendent because he made the impossible possible.0

Crackle...0

At that moment, the lightning Ian had been channeling subsided. Though the storm of bolts still raged in the sky, raining destruction upon the swarm, charred Abyssal Maws continued to plummet to the ground, scattering acrid smoke as they fell.0

Rustle—swish!0

Despite this, a considerable number of the creatures remained.0

"Screech!"0

"Graaaaahh!"0

Their shrill cries, like claws scraping against one’s mind, grew louder as they drew closer.0

Even so, none of the monsters targeted Ian directly. Perhaps they were too late to dive at him, or maybe the radiant light of the sacred fire streaming down like a fountain blinded them.0

While Miguel swallowed hard, his throat dry,...0