I Am A Wizard Who Can Travel Between Earth And The Other World-Chapter 40 - 42 The Clash of Mages

Crackle! Zzzzt!

A surge of lightning, flowing like a wave across the icy ground, abruptly diverted and scattered outward. At the point where the electricity split stood Rigen Hael, a mage under Merentil Pharmaceuticals' employ.

Sweat trickled down Rigen Hael's temple as he drew power from his magical core, his expression tense with concentration.

Blocking the enemy's attack had been equal parts preparation and luck. He had anticipated the strike, preparing just in time for what could have been a devastating blow.

Seated in the rearmost van, Rigen Hael had a clear view of the convoy's lead vehicle as it slid and toppled on the icy road.

The moment it happened, he knew this was no accident.

Someone had orchestrated it, and the attack wouldn't stop there.

Among the myriad spells the enemy could cast in such conditions, one possibility stood out.

Lightning magic.

It was the perfect tool for maximizing the ice's conductive properties, delivering widespread damage.

Predicting this, Rigen had devised a spell—a defensive formula that channeled most of the electricity toward the icy edges of the road, away from the convoy's vehicles and personnel. Though some residual current reached him, the spell worked as intended, dispersing the majority of the attack.

The improvisation was remarkable. Even Rigen , as he wiped the sweat from his brow, couldn't believe how effective the spell had been.

But now, he needed to focus on the next step: identifying the enemy's location. He scanned the area intently, but his efforts revealed nothing.

The assailant remained hidden.

With a deep breath, Rigen redirected his energy into constructing a new spell.

His first priority was his own safety.

A complex array of magical sigils shimmered into existence before him, coalescing into a protective shield.

Wummmm.

A low hum resonated as a transparent barrier materialized, crackling faintly with energy. It wasn't elegant, but it would hold.

Meanwhile, the mercenaries and security personnel who had disembarked from the vans began organizing themselves.

None of them had been injured in the initial attack, and their morale remained high.

Forming a defensive perimeter around the overturned trucks, they moved with practiced precision, though a palpable tension hung in the air—they had no idea how many enemies they were facing.

One figure, towering above the rest, stepped forward.

His massive frame exuded an aura of raw power. "I'll find them," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Hold the line here."

This man was the leader of Merentil's security team, a seasoned combatant with an imposing presence.

As he strode forward, his body radiated mana like a roaring flame, the sheer intensity of it intimidating even to his allies.

A Mage in the Shadows

Far from the chaos of the crash, Desmon stood concealed, his form shrouded by a distortion spell. From this distance, his presence was undetectable. Only when he decided to engage directly would he reveal himself.

Desmon's magic operated differently from most.

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He didn't need to cast spells directly from his own location—he could shift the point of origin to anywhere within range.

This unique approach, achieved through meticulous refinement of his magical techniques, allowed him to strike from unexpected angles.

He watched as Rigen Hael redirected the lightning spell, dispersing its energy. The mage's quick reaction had been impressive, even exciting.

So this is what it's like to fight another mage, Desmon thought, a flicker of anticipation sparking within him.

The battlefield was already under Desmon's control. Through his "domain," he monitored everything: the enemy's movements, their energy flows, even the structure of their magical cores.

He had studied Rigen Hael's core closely, finally unraveling the meaning behind the term third-circle mage.

Rigo's core was cylindrical, layered like nested tubes.

The outermost cylinder rotated clockwise, the middle counterclockwise, and the innermost clockwise again, their motions slow and deliberate.

The layers were densely packed, their alignment precise.

As Rigen Hael cast his spells, mana threads emerged from the outermost cylinder. They were thicker and more resilient than those he had observed in the novice mage Rigen Hael, but the principle remained the same.

So that's how it works. As the core evolves, it becomes more like a true magical core, Desmond mused. Yet the purpose of the cylindrical structure remained unclear. What advantage does it offer?

Desmond continued observing as Rigo conjured his shield spell.

The mage's movements were deliberate, but the formula he used was crude, even inefficient. The shield, while functional, was riddled with flaws.

"Hah," Desmond muttered, stifling a laugh. "That's his shield?"

To Desmond, the shield was laughably primitive. The formula lacked elegance, filled with unnecessary redundancies.

It was a brute-force method of hardening mana into a barrier—a technique Bantaesu had encountered in his studies but had long since abandoned in favor of more refined methods.

In contrast, Desmond's own shields relied on a mana field, a dynamic force surrounding him that absorbed and deflected attacks.

Unlike solid barriers, his shields couldn't be shattered; they could only be pushed back by overwhelming force.

As Desmond observed the shield, another figure caught his attention.

The towering man from the security team had stepped forward, his body glowing with mana. The sheer volume of energy radiating from him was staggering—far beyond anything Desmond had encountered in a non-mage.

Impressive, Desmond thought, watching the mana condense and spread outward in a wide fan shape. It was a detection technique, designed to locate hidden enemies by provoking their mana to react.

If the fan-shaped wave touched another mana source, it would ignite like a flame, revealing the target's location.

The range was limited, the wave dissipating after about ten meters. But the man's persistence and systematic movement made it clear he was skilled at tracking.

Still, Desmond wasn't concerned. His distortion spell ensured he remained undetectable, and he had no intention of being discovered—yet.

For now, he was content to watch, to study. But deep down, a part of him yearned for the fight. He had prepared for this moment, and the thrill of testing his magic against a worthy opponent was undeniable.

If they found him, he would be ready.