A few minutes later.
Like a rising tide, adventurers were still streaming in from every direction.
Fearless of death and concerned only with profit, they were like rabid dogs.
Even as the gods mowed them down with peerless ease, their relentless charge showed no sign of stopping.
Attacks of every conceivable intensity also left the gods somewhat dazzled.
Although the vast majority of those attacks were no more than juggling tricks in their eyes, nothing worth heeding.
Certain special attacks hidden among them were like venomous fangs lurking in the dark, capable of causing trouble if one let down their guard even slightly.
Thus, in the face of attacks from all directions, they did not dare relax in the slightest!
Each struck more ruthlessly than the last, stirring up a continuous storm of blood and gore around them.
The merely irritated Goddess of Magic—Mystra—alone had already become a meat grinder.
Every spell she fired was like a Staff of God ripping through the heavens, splitting the earth, scorching the snow, and slaughtering enemy after enemy.
The surrounding land shook and the mountains trembled!
The Disintegration Spell that broke down solid matter, the Scorching Ray that incinerated flesh, plants, and even metal, the Chaos Field that tore matter apart through a Gravitational Field, the spells that forcefully dispelled an opponent's Magic Shield...
As the Goddess of Magic, she was an existence who understood every Magic Spell and every casting technique.
It was not merely brute force and destruction.
At this moment, in her hands, magic—that incomparably profound art—had become a kind of extreme artistry.
It was dazzlingly beautiful, while its power increased severalfold upon severalfold.
In contrast, Casting Cost and Casting Time were being crazily reduced.
With Mystra.
A casual sliver of magic power could achieve effects that would require other