The Word Spirit’s Command

“I say, none of you shall advance a single step.”

The voice was indifferent, noble, and devoid of arrogance, yet it resonated with the profound weight of ages. It sounded like an ancient echo from the deepest annals of history, a mournful lament akin to those sung by bards, from which countless legends and epics could spring.

This was the ancient Word of Authority, invoked by the name of Merlin.

As the words fell, a faint golden radiance spilled forth, encompassing the entire area before the pavilion. The very rules of existence seemed to warp at the command, ensuring that any sorcerer who dared to take a single step forward would pay a severe price.

Belen’s brow furrowed slightly. She raised a hand, signaling her subordinates not to approach carelessly.

“Hah,” Belen scoffed. “I never imagined anyone still possessed the favor of the Word of Authority in this world. I truly thought such a lineage had long since been severed.”

Her gaze turned frigid, and a murderous intent began to stir within her. Throughout her life, she had despised nothing more than those born with extraordinary talent—those favored by the gods.

Her cultivation had been stagnant at the Fifth Ring for over fifteen years, and even now, she saw no glimmer of hope for breaking through to the Sixth. Though many feared her due to her influence, the whispers of scorn and ridicule behind her back were constant.

“Old hag, still clinging to your high position after all these years? Step down already and let someone else have a turn!”

Labels like ‘talentless’ and ‘purely reliant on background’ had become indelible marks of shame etched upon her. To truly establish herself in the Council and earn respect through her own power, reaching the Sixth Ring was the only path.

However, circumstances were about to change. If she successfully completed this mission, she would acquire the circuit template of a Sixth-Ring sorcerer. Even if she merely copied the template during her own attunement, she would have a significant chance of crossing the threshold.

Therefore, this operation could not afford to fail! Wasting no further words, she raised her staff and issued a command.

“Ranged spell volley! Annihilate her!”

In an instant, a barrage of colorful light orbs and searing rays hurtled toward Audrey in the pavilion. Each spell carried lethal potency.

“I say, magic shall not harm me.”

A brilliant golden light condensed before Audrey, forming a shimmering, three-dimensional shield. It stood like an impenetrable fortress of overlapping peaks. The incoming magic exploded against its surface, yet failed to inflict even the slightest harm.

Concurrently, the golden glow in Audrey’s right pupil flickered faintly—a subtle sign of her power waning. Though the tremor was almost imperceptible, Belen’s sharp eyes caught it.

“Continue the assault! Wear down her protection!”

Wave after wave of attacks descended upon the shield. A distinct crack echoed from the golden barrier, and fine, intricate fissures began to spread across its surface. Audrey’s face grew progressively paler; the full-power Word of Authority was proving to be an immense burden.

“I say, darkness shall descend upon you, and your senses shall be trapped in gloom.”

A curtain of profound darkness immediately fell, stripping the assembled sorcerers of their spatial awareness. They found themselves plunged into an impenetrable void, unable to see even their own outstretched hands.

“A mere parlor trick.”

While the other sorcerers panicked, Belen’s expression remained unchanged. She stood her ground, calmly casting her counter-spells.

[Dispel Darkness] [Corrosive Arrow]

The blinding effect was swiftly dispelled. A virulent, greenish arrow struck the golden shield, oozing corrosive liquid. Shield and arrow reacted with an explosive chemical fury, and both dissolved into nothingness.

[Crimson Mana Bolt]

With three consecutive spells, the Fifth-Ring sorcerer’s full power abruptly turned the tide of battle.

The crimson, compressed mana bolt rapidly expanded within Audrey’s pupils. Gritting her teeth, she manipulated the Word of Authority, declaring with a swift wave of her hand:

“I say, fade.”

Though the crimson mana bolt was still hurtling forward, its dangerous scarlet hue transformed into a void-like gray. The Word of Authority had dissolved Belen’s mana, rendering the projectile devoid of its deadly killing power!

Despite this, the bolt struck Audrey’s left shoulder squarely. There was no explosion, but the impact felt akin to being struck head-on by a speeding boulder. The crisp, grating sound of bone fracturing echoed ominously.

“Ugh!” She cried out in pain, clutching her left shoulder. It was a mangled, bloody mess, the muscles collapsing irregularly beneath her touch.

Had she failed to nullify the mana, had the crimson bolt exploded, she would undoubtedly be dead at this very moment. Belen’s casting cooldown was about to end, and Audrey had never felt time pass so swiftly.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Following the sudden sound, her gaze shifted toward the bushes.

‘Colette?!’

‘No, why would she wake up now? If she just stayed hidden, she could have escaped.’

The thirteen-year-old girl, her dark hair streaked with clinging fallen leaves, silently watched the assembled sorcerers. She slowly emerged from the dense thicket. The wind swept past, stirring her disheveled strands. The evening glow settled upon the forest, and a subtle, indefinable shadow veiled the unyielding gloom in her eyes.

All the sorcerers apart from Belen were still recovering from the darkness. Belen herself was currently caught in the awkward buffer of a spell’s casting sequence. For a moment, no one could attack Colette as she gracefully stepped forward.

“Heheheh…” she chuckled softly, the corners of her lips curving into a crescent moon. Her aristocratic upbringing was ingrained in her bones; even in this perilous moment, her steps maintained an undeniable elegance, as if the grass were her personal carpet.

Then, from beneath her skirt, she produced a miniature alchemical pistol. She disengaged the safety. Click-clack—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

From a distance of over ten meters, three shots rang out. Each bullet struck a sorcerer precisely in the forehead. They had no time to react, hearing only the deafening reports of the gun!

Colette’s marksmanship was chillingly swift. Less than half a second elapsed between each shot, leaving no time for the sorcerers to even raise a defensive shield.

“Sweet dreams, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll grant you your release.”

She merely cast a sorrowful glance at the three corpses, their heads grotesquely shattered. Then, with a practiced, almost mechanical motion, she cocked the hammer once more, aiming at a fourth individual.

“…Wait! Don’t kill me!”

Before a bullet, all were equal.

“Why not? Death would bring a bit more peace, wouldn’t it? See you in heaven—or hell, whichever works~”

Bang!

[Concentrated Shield]

A defensive spell, etched into the sorcerer’s very soul, was instantly cast. A faint, translucent barrier shimmered around his body, barely managing to deflect the bullet’s impact.

“Oh, what a pity,” Colette remarked with apparent sincerity. Yet, judging by her tone, it wasn’t the failure to kill that she regretted, but a genuine sense of sorrow for the sorcerer himself. ‘Such vermin, merely one step away from release.’

Belen stared, bewildered, at the surreal scene. Before she could process the situation, her subordinates were nearly all dead.

‘What in the blazes is this?! Is this the kind of upbringing the Cavendish family provides?! Which noble young lady practices shooting targets every single day?!’

Just as Belen resolved to swing her staff and dispatch this abnormal second daughter, Audrey’s final, desperate cry echoed from the pavilion.

“I say, disarm.”