The Art of Binding

The hemp rope, woven into a net, sprang up from the ground, snaked between her legs, and coiled around her body, hoisting the High Elf maiden into the air. After a brief, intense moment of panic, the suspended Vereesa reacted with almost instinctive precision.

She grabbed the dagger at her waist and drew it, intending to sever the bindings. But a sudden surge of mana followed, making the rope seem to come alive; like countless nimble little snakes, the cords slithered rapidly over her, pinning her joints before jerking violently backward.

"Ah!"

Her wrists and ankles were pulled taut by a tremendous force, arching her entire body into a grotesquely distorted posture. The immense strain on her abdomen and waist forced an irrepressible cry of pain from her lips.

Just as she opened her mouth, one of the ropes whipped around from behind her head and clamped tightly over her mouth.

What terrified her even more was the way the net-like rope tightened, leaving no gap untouched. It not only bound her limbs but snaked from her legs upward, passing through her crotch, wrapping around her armpits, her slender neck, and her arms. One section even pressed against her chest, as if she were wearing a bodysuit made of rope mesh.

The sensation in her private areas and the humiliating position made Vereesa wish she could die of shame; the pain in her suspended waist and abdomen suddenly seemed trivial by comparison.

Consumed by shame and rage, Vereesa began to struggle violently.

She still held the unsheathed dagger in her hand; if she could just adjust her posture, she would be free in no time.

But the next second, her movements froze.

Below, the High Elf mage sitting cross-legged slowly turned his head. Those cold eyes, set against the backdrop of the night, shimmered with a faint green glow. With sharp features and upturned pupils, paired with his bloodless complexion, he looked like a soul-devouring demon in the dark of night.

The sensation of falling into an ice cellar transformed into overwhelming terror, enveloping Vereesa layer by layer.

The turbulent mana within his body had finally settled after a long while. Ensuring his physical form had suffered no lingering side effects, Lanlos breathed a slight sigh of relief.

The entire process had lasted much longer than he anticipated. Even with his extraordinary mental fortitude, he had felt pushed to the limit. To be safe, he had discharged most of the mana extracted from the Arcane Shard midway through. Fortunately, the influx of natural mana filled the void, allowing his body's mana affinity to reach the threshold for casting 2nd-circle spells without incident.

Furthermore, a new root directory had been added to his personal database.

Metamagic:

Empower Spell: Enhances spell effects; casting time and mana consumption increase by 1 to 2 times.

Tonight, he had gained a clear understanding of the enhancement provided by Empower Spell. A Fireball that originally could only blast away a fist-sized patch of tree bark could now easily snap a tree trunk as thick as a bowl with the additional double cost.

This level of threat was enough to endanger the lives of most people.

Moreover, Lanlos had long since memorized the spell models for 2nd-circle spells. If given sufficient time, an empowered 2nd-circle spell might not match a mid-tier 4th-circle spell in raw damage, but it certainly exceeded the standard of a 3rd-circle spell.

Although in most cases, the higher the circle of magic, the greater the intensity, range, and lethality, the classification of circles was primarily based on mana consumption. The intensity of a 3rd-circle spell was already enough to kill most creatures with average magical resistance. Combined with low consumption and short casting times, these became the most commonly used offensive spells for most magi.

Such as Flame Blast, Arcane Explosion, Ice Lance, Frost Nova, and Dispel Magic.

In other words, Lanlos had now reached the passing grade for a mage, at least in terms of raw magical offensive power.

The path of a spellcaster is long and arduous; offensive capability is but a tiny tip of the iceberg in the all-encompassing world of arcane magic. Yet, it is this very tip that keeps the status of spellcasters so high in this world.

With merely low-tier spells, one could run rampant in the mortal world. It is no wonder that so many spellcasters, who already enjoyed fame and fortune, found it difficult to remain detached in the face of such temptation.

The power and splendor of magic are constantly tempting mortals to lift that mysterious veil.

Feeling his mana pool, which had more than doubled, Lanlos took a deep breath. Even with his bizarre experiences, he could not suppress the inner craving for greater power.

This desire could make him, or it could destroy him.

While warning himself against the eagerness in his heart, Lanlos also struggled to suppress the unbearable craving for mana.

Mana addiction...

As mentioned before, mana brought immense benefits to the mortals of this world, strengthening their physiques, spirits, and power. Even without relying on magic, a large number of people were capable of reaching the heavens, kicking elements, and tearing demons apart with their bare hands.

This physical and mental reinforcement was naturally addictive.

Not long ago, when he guided the mana from the Arcane Shard into his body, the euphoric sensation was still fresh in Lanlos's memory. But this did not satisfy his craving; instead, it opened Pandora's box.

Fel had already taken root in this body, but the green flame, symbol of destruction and chaos, was still weak. He was dissatisfied with the fragility of this body; he craved more nourishment, he craved to burn fiercely, to incinerate everything to ash.

He had once possessed immense power, but now, he had to be cautious and self-satisfied just to absorb a few scraps of energy. How pathetic...

He was unwilling to accept this. He growled, wanting to drain the mana from this sanctuary, and even the Sunwell itself...

Sacrifice everything, burn brightly...

Hoo—!

Restraining the desires deep within his heart, Lanlos's mood plummeted from his initial joy. Indeed, he could have easily used Fel to sacrifice these Arcane Shards; not only would it avoid waste, but it wouldn't be so exhausting, nor would it put him in such danger.

A few mere shards could be sacrificed and absorbed in the blink of an eye. But instead...

Just as Lanlos was feeling indignant, his spell ward was suddenly triggered. At the same time, a female scream, which sounded vaguely familiar, caught his attention.

Speak of the devil. With a flash of irritation, he moved his mind, and his doubled mana poured into the Animate Rope. In an instant, the intruder was bound layer by layer.

He opened his eyes and cast his gaze upward, his eyes still flickering with the flames of chaos.

But the next moment, a flash of intense color entered his vision, leaving him stunned and unable to recover for a long time.

Perhaps due to her struggle, her hood had fallen off. Under the illumination of the bright moon, that silver hair shimmered with a luster as moving as the stars, dancing in the evening breeze along with its panicked owner, like a galaxy flowing around the moon—shining, brilliant.

Lanlos stared, mesmerized. Because of the high concentration of mana in Quel'Thalas, the average High Elf was far superior to humans in appearance and physical quality. Even so, he had never seen anyone with such hair that seemed to glow.

Almost subconsciously, he grabbed his own sideburns. Split ends, knotted, and no matter how many times he washed them, they remained coarse and dry.

A disgrace to the elves...

After a momentary flash of fear, Vereesa was surprised to find the eerie glow in the man's eyes had vanished, replaced by a softened gaze. Yet, this did not put her at ease; on the contrary, a different level of terror made her struggle like a madwoman.

This fierce and menacing mage had not only stared at her in this state without restraint for a long time, but he was even clutching her hair while acting coy with a bizarre expression on his face!

Could it be, could it be that this pervert wants to do something to me?!

At this thought, the elven girl's delicate, smooth face turned deathly pale. Ignoring the pain, she struggled violently, emitting a series of urgent whimpers.

This sound interrupted Lanlos's complex thoughts. Seeing the tears in the girl's eyes and the skin on her wrists reddened to the point of bleeding, a trace of pity stirred in his heart after the visual impact of a moment ago. He loosened the tension on the Animate Rope and released the binding around her mouth.

"Speak, who exactly are you?"

Ever since the ambush that night, Lanlos had realized that someone might be watching him at any moment. For this reason, whether in his room or studying in the back mountains, he always set up magical wards nearby, allowing him to know the moment anyone approached.

At the same time, since leaving the academy, although he had sensed no signs of being followed, he still dared not use Fel. This was why he had fallen into such a crisis a short while ago, and why, just moments before, the bone-gnawing, marrow-sucking magic addiction had clawed at his heart, itching so intensely he nearly tore his own chest open.

The slackening of the ropes gave the girl room to breathe. She spat out the fibers from her mouth, propped up her body, wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth with her glove, and glared at the mage with eyes full of humiliation and resentment.

"Shameless villain!"

Although it was a curse, the girl's voice was unexpectedly delicate and clear, causing Lanlos to focus his attention on her face involuntarily.

Her dark eyebrows were long and slender, shimmering with the same luster as her hair. Her pale blue eyes were bright and clear even in the dark of night, as if they could speak, conveying the overflowing anger from her star-like pupils. Her small, exquisite nose had a high bridge; as she furrowed her brows, her nostrils flared involuntarily, yet it didn't give off a fierce impression, but rather revealed a hint of cuteness and charm.

The cherry lips she wiped back and forth against the back of her hand were especially foul-play; dampened by the previous pressure and saliva, they glowed with a blood-like, alluring crimson. The friction against her glove unintentionally showcased their astonishing softness and tenderness.

What a beautiful girl.

His internal praise wasn't just due to the impact of that silver hair. With bright eyes and a beautiful complexion, coupled with her entire body bound by ropes, her curvaceous figure—already accentuated by her leather armor—added a touch of exotic sensuality.

Hmm, truly a work of art...

Seeing that the mage was not only unangered by her curse but had his burning gaze fixed on her chest, she was instantly reminded of the unbearable memories of being violated that night. With the current humiliation layered on top, she found a burst of strength from nowhere.

Ignoring the sharp pain, she flipped her wrist with force, and a sharp dagger instantly severed the rope on her right hand. She then twisted her body, using the momentum of her fall; with a flash of steel, she cut through the bindings on all four limbs in the blink of an eye.

At the same time, Vereesa lunged like a hunting hawk, pinning down the mage, who seemed too surprised to react in time. The blade in her hand pointed directly at his eyeball, instantly turning the tables.

Hmph, you've finally fallen into my hands!