The light element took all the broken parts and reassembled them into a new form. The entire process only required a split-second and once it was over, Balkor was wearing a full suit of black armor as well.
It was the tier five Creation Magic spell, Phoenix’s Forge.
The Battle Mage’s elemental god series of spells was nothing but a pale imitation of Salaark’s original creation. Balkor had witnessed her using Phoenix’s Forge while they had fought together against those who had tried to invade the Blood Desert.
No matter if Salaark faced millennia-old Eldritch Abominations, monster-Abomination hybrids, or ageless undead, no matter how hard they struggled, they all had fallen by her hand.
Salaark was Mogar’s Lord of War, the incarnation of light and darkness. Her dominion over the two elements was such that she could use them to alter the nature of things.
Darkness would provide her with the raw materials while Light would shape them into whatever she could imagine. It allowed her to always have the right equipment at hand, no matter if she was against an old enemy or a completely unknown foe.
She could shapeshift and Forgemaster anything in a blink. The only limit of Creation Magic was that she still needed to know how the enchantments she was creating worked and her creations couldn’t exceed the properties of the materials at hand.
Salaark could extract the strongest metal from the surrounding rocks, but it would still be nothing compared to Adamant or Davross. It was the reason why the Guardian always brought them with her inside her pocket dimension.
Balkor had often wondered why she brought him along if Salaark would do almost all the job and the answer he had come up with was that she was trying to teach him something.
The god of death lacked both her resources and her endless mana, so his creations were powerful but they never lasted long. To make matters worse, once the spell was over, all the ingredients would be useless since he couldn’t use Origin Flames to at least recycle the metal.
The Horseman of Night couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed. Until that day, only two creatures had proven capable of using Creation Magic. One was Salaark, the Lord of War, and the other was Baba Yaga, the mother of all undead.
Night’s Black Rose was a full suit plate armor, all the pieces of which were shaped to resemble the petals of a rose in full bloom. Balkor’s Phoenix’s Forge, instead, had its plates shaped like feathers, the faceplate resembled a beak, and it even had wings coming from its back.
It was not by his choice that the armor was shaped as such. Balkor had barely scraped the surface of Creation Magic and the best he could do was to recreate the spell he was the most familiar with.
“By the Great Mother!” Manohar felt religious for the first time in his life. He had never been so close to death, yet he had never experienced so many sudden bursts of inspiration either.
“I really need to learn darkness magic.” He said, regretting not to have the necessary knowledge to imitate Balkor. Manohar knew about the darkness element solely what he needed to perform his experiments, deeming it an accessory to the light element.
“Nice piece of crap, tin man.” Night sneered. “You’re still lacking a weapon, though.”
The Thorn was a winged spear with the side tips bent upward and as sharp as the blade itself. They were meant to both make each thrust more difficult to dodge and to amplify the spells Night channeled through the weapon.
All of her equipment was made of Adamant because unlike her brother, Dusk, she wanted to save the best materials for once she found the perfect host. Only then would Night be able to craft something that would equally fit her and her Sword.
Night bolted forward, empowered by both fusion magic and the inhuman reflexes of the Awakened undead she possessed. She used the blunt extremity of the spear to strike right between Manohar’s eyes, making his head snap back like a whip.
He conjured and stacked together several hard-light walls to stop the attack, which kept him from being knocked out in a single hit. His shield shattered, but not before taking the brunt of the impact.
The Mad Professor crashed behind Night’s enchanted throne and used it to regain his footing.
‘I think I need some good equipment as well.’ Manohar thought while trying to clear the dizziness clouding his vision. ‘Next time I see him, I’d better take the offer of that Ernas guy.’
Night didn’t stop her movement and charged at Balkor, this time using Thorn’s blade. The spear was crackling with the mana its master had stored within. Every one of its movements generated harrowing wails along with a blast of darkness, as if Thorn trapped the mournful souls of its victims.
The attack came so fast that only by combining air fusion with a flight spell and air magic to fill his wings did Balkor manage to dodge Night’s lunge by a hair’s breadth. Night smiled at his valiant yet futile effort.
Balkor had avoided the physical component of her attack, but Thorn wasn’t that simple of a weapon. She turned back by pivoting on the balls of her feet and struck at Balkor, unleashing what looked like a storm of vengeful ghosts.
The god of death had plenty of experience in all fields of magic, but little at fighting opponents of that caliber by himself instead that through his minions. A single Wailing Wind, one of Thorn’s abilities, was enough to open deep cracks in his armor and send him crashing against a wall.
“Well, what’s your diagnosis?” Manohar conjured two open palms, one from above and one from below Night, that swatted her like a fly and produced a thunderclap on impact.
A second set of hands did the same from either side the moment the first pulled away, alternating the clapping motion between them so fast that Night would never touch the ground again.
“We’re screwed.” Balkor said while watching at the three of them with Life Vision.
Manohar and he had already consumed quite a bit of mana, whereas Night had still plenty of juice.
“The spells of her Chosen ones were about as strong as my own, yet she blocked them effortlessly. Your spells are not doing her enough damage and the moment Night escapes and brings the fight back to close-quarter we’re dead. What about yours?”
“I have to agree. Any ideas?” Manohar said as Night pierced his constructs with enough darkness magic to turn them into wisps.
Between her Black Rose armor and the undead body she inhabited. Night had suffered little to none damage.
“Aside from dying, surrendering, or running away? Just one, but it requires that you buy me some time. Since she’s handing us our asses already, there’s no way that you alone can…” Balkor said.
“Leave it to me!” Manohar cut him short and charged at Night.
All the gold embroidery of his Professor uniform turned out to be runes made of light that conjured his most powerful tier five spell, Supernovas. Night and Manohar were now surrounded by meteors made of light and fire big enough to form a wall that prevented them from escaping.
On top of that, each one of them was powerful enough to blow up a castle.
