Magus vs Witches

Moments before the Indigo appeared, deep within the forest just a few kilometers from the outskirts, the magus stood amidst the chaos. His shoulder-length redish hair, now streaked with sweat and blood from the battle, swayed as he swung his staff. Fire coalesced around him, forming multiple fiery blue spears. The moment the flames shifted from crimson red to an intense blue, the heat radiating from them was enough to turn the nearby dead trees—and even the lifeless bodies of his former soldiers—into crisps.

The poison coursing through his veins was a constant reminder that time was running out. The magus knew it was only a matter of time before his body gave out. He had to end the fight quickly and escape the surrounding woods. Even if he survived the witches, the creatures lurking in the shadows wouldn't let him leave unscathed. He could already feel their eyes on him—cold, calculating, and hungry. They were waiting, biding their time, and he knew there would be no rest, even if he managed to kill the witches.

As the fiery blue spears fully formed, the magus didn't hesitate. He swung his staff, adding physical momentum to the motion. The muscles in his arm contracted, veins bulging with faint red and blue light as mana surged through them. Gritting his teeth, he launched the two-meter-tall spears, which began spinning like drills, their tips extending another half meter. They shot toward the witches with blinding speed and precision, leaving trails of scorching heat in their wake.

The four witches, feeling the intense heat radiating from the spears, knew that even getting close to the blue flames would blister their skin, let alone being struck directly. Without delay, they began chanting in unison, their lips moving in rhythm. Water seeped from the ground and surrounding flora, causing trees to wither and the earth to crack. A massive wave, towering five meters high, rose like a tsunami and crashed into the spears. The collision produced a thick mist that blanketed a 100-meter radius, obscuring visibility.

With a shared glance, the witches communicated without words. The black-haired leader stepped forward and ordered, "Stall him for a few minutes. I'll try something—it's risky, but we have no other choice."

The others nodded, dispersing in different directions like blurs, each preparing to attack from a new angle. The leader retreated, hiding behind the wreckage of the carriage destroyed during their ambush.

Meanwhile, the magus could feel his condition deteriorating rapidly.

'I have enough mana and strength for one more surge', he thought.

'I need to make it count. The mist is hindering my ability to sense their positions, but I can guess they've separated to attack me from multiple directions. I hope this works'.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the mana coursing through his body, suppressing the searing pain as he forced more energy out despite his clogged veins. He coughed up blood, realizing he had ruptured a vein near his kidney—a vital organ. But he pressed on, his mind racing to devise the perfect attack pattern to target all the witches simultaneously. His eyes twitched as he finally settled on a plan.

The magus continued to emit mana into the mist, turning it into scalding steam. The pressure within the area increased exponentially, creating an oppressive, hellish environment. If he couldn't use a wide-area attack due to his dwindling mana, he would turn the atmosphere itself into a weapon.

The three witches, sensing the change in the atmosphere, knew they had to act quickly. A blonde witch formed a triangle with her thumbs, index, and middle fingers, focusing on the magus's position. She whispered an incantation in a language so ancient and powerful that even the trees seemed to creak under its weight. Her eyes turned black, and the outline of the triangle glowed with dark energy. Suddenly, a black beam shot forward from her hands, aimed directly at the magus.

Reacting instinctively, the magus leaped to the right, but not before the beam grazed his side. The attack left a triangular hole in the ground where he had stood moments before, and the necrotic effect of the spell began to poison his flesh. A black veiny mark formed on his hip, a sign that the necrosis curse was already taking hold. It was a nasty combination, designed to slowly rot his body from within.

The magus couldn't afford to lose focus. He kept moving, sensing two more concentrations of mana—one to his left and another beneath him. The second witch,a black haired woman, wielding a wand, launched gray wisps that homed in on him like living projectiles. She chanted continuously, her incantation growing more complex as the wisps followed his every move.

The third witch, with blonde hair, had her hands buried deep in the ground. She whispered in an ancient dialect, as if conversing with an unseen entity. Dark green energy pulsed around her, preparing a summoning ritual.

The magus, aware of the incoming threats, closed his eyes and used the ambient fire mana to create a shield-like structure in front of him. The gray wisps collided with the shield, triggering a massive explosion that engulfed the area in gray-ish and crimson flames. The force of the blast threw the magus backward, his body crashing through several trees before he finally came to a stop.

As the man struggled to get back on his feet, he felt something slithering around his legs, digging into his flesh with sharp, needle-like thorns. He looked down and saw roots emerging from a figure perched on a tree branch above him. His eyes widened in recognition—it was a Thornbinder. The creature was a humanoid mass of twisted, blackened thorns and vines, its slender, jagged body glistening like obsidian. Its glowing green eyes stared down at him, and its hair cascaded in tendrils of thorny vines. When it moved, it emitted a soft, eerie rustling, like wind through a bramble patch.

Yet, even as the Thornbinder's roots tightened around him, the magus refused to back down. Unable to stand, he continued pouring mana into the atmosphere, ignoring the pain and the crushing force of the thorns. When the mist finally transformed into an unseen, volatile gas and the water vanished entirely, he knew the moment had come. All he needed was a spark to ignite the mixture and turn the area into an inferno—and that's exactly what he did.

With a surge of mana, he ignited the surrounding gas, triggering a massive explosion as the hydrogen and oxygen combusted. The resulting shockwave and heat consumed everything in its path, shattering trees and scorching the earth. The three witches, caught off guard, were thrown back by the blast. The explosion ruptured some of their internal organs, while the heat wave blistered their skin and seared their lungs as they tried to breathe.

The magus, protected by the mana he had used to trigger the attack, remained unharmed. But his relief was short-lived.

The witch who had taken the lead had sensed the absence of water moments earlier and taken cover inside a hollow tree trunk. By then, her ritual was complete. She had been preparing to cast Wailing Nightshade, a curse designed to induce nightmares or madness in its target. On the ground, three concentric circles were drawn, with a cryptic, ancient script at the center—a language known only to those who dared to study the forbidden arts. Between the inner and outer circles, additional symbols were inscribed in black ink or blood, detailing the curse's effects and duration. Surrounding the entire design was a rectangular border that glowed with a whitish-gray light, pulsing ominously.

However, the magus's attack had disrupted part of the ritual. Some of the inscriptions were deformed, and a critical element in the center of the curse was missing. But it was too late to stop the process. The curse took effect, though not as intended. Instead of the maddening screams of the magus, a heart-stopping, inhuman wail erupted—a sound like that of a dying woman in unbearable agony.

Hearing the scream, both the magus and the witch froze. The witch realized her ritual had failed catastrophically, while the magus knew his time was running out. Without a word, they both came to the same conclusion: it was time to leave the forest—immediately. If they stayed, they would die in the most brutal way imaginable.