The Runic Alchemist

Damian still had one more wormhole spell prepared as a backup, it wasn't needed though, the plan was a success with no big complications. Though it was taxing on his mana pool, he had a strong reserve from Vidalia's mana pool, so the drain wasn't a big concern. Besides, he knew he would need the spell soon, as the dome was broken for the spell to work, allowing Moondancer to chase them once more.

They should have brought Moondancer instead of Threadripper. That way, Threadripper wouldn't be able to get this far. But they had the waygate tool, so maybe it wouldn't have mattered much, assuming it could still work with limited power. Plus that one could fly and escape with odds against her.

Without wasting time, Vidalia charged at Threadripper, who had just regained his footing, sword raised high. Even in this precarious position, he was prepared, deflecting her attack with both rapiers, his face finally showing a hint of displeasure. With a circular overhand motion, he pushed her back, surpassing her in both strength and technique.

Despite her skill, Vidalia was still a mage who had prioritized raising her INT over her STR.

"I have to say, you've succeeded in thoroughly annoying me, Princess," he sneered. "What do you plan to achieve by isolating me like this? Kill me? Or capture me with such weak attacks?"

But her attack was only a distraction. The runic ring on her finger activated with a command, releasing hundreds of vines that burst from the ground, giving Threadripper no time to react. These weren't her usual green vines—these were purple, pungent, and covered in strange flowers. Damian could sense the mana pouring out of them.

Realizing the danger too late, Threadripper unleashed his aura to break free, attempting to tear the vines apart with brute force. However, the more he struggled, the tighter the vines constricted around his body, draining his mana and releasing it into the atmosphere.

'Whoa, what an incredible species... If I could just get a sample of these vines...' Damian thought to himself, momentarily distracted. A mana extraction potion or something similar could revolutionize his research. What the hell was he even thinking..? 'Focus, Damian, you dumbass,' he scolded himself.

The others weren't lost in thought like him though. They rushed to aid Vidalia, who was preparing to strike at Threadripper again, aiming for his limbs. However, the aura armor surrounding him was too durable. While he couldn't use mana, there seemed to be little restriction on his aura.

Damian knew only another master of aura could hope to break it, which was precisely why the pugilist on their team was there. Vidalia herself was a master at using it.

Before the others could even reach him, they unleashed a barrage of spells, punches, and aura blades, chipping away at the armor bit by bit. Threadripper began to sweat, but the process wasn't fast enough.

Just as Damian feared, he felt the same uncomfortable mana disturbance as he did on the night of the attack—the sensation of someone piercing the fabric of space. It was close, just a few inches from Threadripper. Though the waygate hadn't fully materialized, Damian immediately cast the spell he had prepared, opening his own purple portal right beside it.

He had to connect it somewhere, so he linked it to the middle of the Wraith's Passage, high above Ashenvale's camp—thousands of meters in the air. Anyone who crossed through without looking would be in for a nasty surprise.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" Aramis roared, noticing Damian's purple wormhole forming inches from the man they were attacking.

"They're opening a waygate behind mine," Damian responded loudly. "I've made my exit there. Mages, get over here and shoot anything that comes through. Leave Threadripper to the aura masters!" Damian used another wormhole spell to cover the waygate from both sides while instructing them.

He sensed movement through his portal—two soldiers, or perhaps knights, falling through, their screams echoing as they plummeted into their own camp.

Tristan and Lysandrea immediately joined him, ready to shoot anything that emerged from the portal, while Esme, the pugilist, and Vidalia continued their efforts to break Threadripper's aura armor with a series of relentless aura attacks. Damian pulled out another runic roll, this one imbued with three large runic circles—water blades, air blades, and rock bullets. It was a projectile special.

Ten parchments with premium mana ink could gathered more energy than any one spell could hold, so he had combined them.

Meanwhile, another group of five soldiers stepped out of the waygate. This was the aerial unit—they fell briefly before catching themselves and taking flight. Moondancer was likely waiting for their report before entering the fray herself. Clever girl.

"Shoot them down! Don't let a single one escape, or Moondancer will follow!" Damian barked.

Tristan and Lysandrea understood immediately, chanting and launching spell after spell at the flying unit. They managed to shoot one down, while others skillfully dodged and circled back. However, Damian was ready, quietly activating his triple runic circles, barely moving his hands to avoid alerting the enemy and whispering quietly for appearances.

The different blades exploded in their path, seriously injuring three of them, causing them to lose control and fall into range of another barrage from Tristan and Lysandrea. Only one flyer remained, soaring so high in fear that he was no longer a threat.

"That was devious, kid. I love it," Tristan remarked, though Damian wasn't sure that was a compliment if it came from his mouth.

Lysandrea just smiled, savoring the brief moment of peace amid the chaos. But it didn't last. Damian's heart sank as he sensed the mana signature he had hoped to avoid, at least for a few more minutes—just until they could break Threadripper's armor.

Five flying creatures burst through the portal, moving at incredible speed. Riding on one of them was Moondancer herself with her hood down and frilly white dress fluttering in wind and darkness in her hands, finally entering the battle to level the playing field.