The Art of Binding

The woven hemp rope sprang up from the ground, passed between her legs, wrapped around her body, and hoisted the elven girl into the air. After a brief, intense flash of panic, the suspended Vereesa reacted correctly almost by instinct.

She grabbed the dagger at her waist and drew it, ready to cut through the ropes. But then a surge of magic flowed into them, and the ropes seemed to come alive. Like countless nimble little snakes, they darted over her, binding her joints before yanking them sharply backward.

"Ah!"

Her wrists and ankles were wrenched backward with tremendous force, bending her body into an abnormally twisted pose. Her lower back and abdomen bore an immense strain, and the tearing pain forced a cry from her before she could stop it.

But just as she opened her mouth, one of the ropes suddenly looped around from behind her head and clamped tightly over it.

What terrified her even more was how the net of ropes constricted with such force that it left no part of her untouched. They bound not only her limbs, but also crawled up from her legs, passed between her thighs, and wrapped around her armpits, slender neck, and arms. One section even pressed against her chest, as if she were wearing a bodysuit made of rope netting.

The strange sensation in her private parts and the humiliating pose filled Vereesa with such shame and fury that she felt she would rather die. Now, even the pain of having her lower back and abdomen suspended in the air seemed like nothing by comparison.

Seething with humiliation and anger, Vereesa immediately began to struggle.

She still held the unsheathed dagger. If she could just adjust her position, she would be free in no time.

But in the next moment, her movements abruptly froze.

Below her, the elven mage sat cross-legged and slowly turned his head. His cold eyes, set against the night, glimmered with a faint green light. His features were sharp, and his eyes slanted upward. Paired with his deathly pale face, he looked like a ravenous evil spirit lurking in the darkness.

The sensation of plunging into an icy abyss became overwhelming terror, closing in around Vereesa from every side.

The magic surging through his body had settled for a long while. After making sure it had left no lingering effects, Lanlos breathed a little easier.

The whole process had lasted much longer than he expected. Even his extraordinary mental fortitude had been pushed to its limits. To be safe, he had released most of the magic drawn from the Arcane Shards midway through. Fortunately, the natural magic that flowed into him made up the difference, and his body's affinity for magic had reached the threshold for casting second-circle spells without incident.

His personal database had also gained a new root directory.

Metamagic:

Empower Spell: Increases a spell's effect, while multiplying casting time and mana cost by one to two times.

That night, he had gained a clear understanding of the effects of empowered casting. A Fireball that could previously blast away only a fist-sized patch of bark could now easily snap a tree trunk as thick as a bowl, with twice the usual mana cost.

That level of power could threaten the lives of most people.

What was more, Lanlos had memorized the spell models for second-circle spells long ago. Given enough time, empowered second-circle spells would not match the damage of an intermediate fourth-circle spell, but they would certainly exceed the standard for third-circle spells.

In most cases, the higher the spell circle, the greater its power, range, and destructive force. But spell circles were classified primarily according to mana cost. Third-circle spells were already powerful enough to kill most creatures with ordinary magic resistance. Their lower cost and shorter casting time also made them the attack spells most commonly used by Magisters.

Spells such as Pyroblast, Arcane Explosion, Ice Lance, Frost Nova, and Dispel Magic.

In other words, in terms of magical attack power alone, Lanlos had now reached the baseline for a mage.

The path of a spellcaster was long and arduous. Attack magic was only a tiny tip of the iceberg among the all-encompassing Arcane Magic. Yet even that tiny tip was enough to give spellcasters lofty status in this world.

Even low-circle spells could let their casters run rampant in the mortal world. No wonder so many spellcasters, already rich in fame and fortune, still found it hard to resist temptation.

The power and splendor of magic were constantly tempting mortals to lift the veil of mystery.

Feeling that his mana had nearly doubled, Lanlos couldn't help drawing a deep breath. Even after all the strange experiences he had been through, he couldn't suppress his longing for greater power.

That longing could make him, or destroy him.

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

魔瘾...

As mentioned earlier, magic had brought tremendous benefits to the mortals of this world, strengthening their bodies, minds, and power. Even without relying on spells, many people were formidable enough to kick the elements aside and tear demons apart with their bare hands.

Naturally, that physical and mental enhancement felt impossible to give up.

Not long ago, he had channeled the magic from the Arcane Shards into his body. The blissful, floating sensation was still fresh in Lanlos's memory. But it had done nothing to satisfy his craving. Instead, it had opened Pandora's box.

Fel had already taken root in this body, but the green flames that represented destruction and chaos were still weak. He was unsatisfied with how frail this body was. He craved more nourishment. He wanted the flames to blaze fiercely and burn everything to ash.

He had once possessed power beyond measure. But now, he had to handle even a few scraps of energy with the utmost care, and was absurdly pleased with himself for absorbing them. How pathetic...

He was unwilling to accept it. He growled, wanting to devour all the magic in this Sanctum—even the entire Sunwell...

Sacrifice everything, and let the flames roar...

Whoosh—!

As Lanlos restrained the desire deep within him, his mood fell from its initial elation. It was true that he could use Fel to sacrifice these Arcane Shards with ease. He wouldn't waste a thing, wouldn't have to struggle so hard, and wouldn't even need to put himself in danger.

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

Just as Lanlos was seething with frustration, his magical alarm suddenly went off. At the same time, a woman's cry, faintly familiar, caught his attention.

Speak of the devil. Frowning, he willed the magic that had more than doubled in strength into Animate Rope. In almost an instant, it bound the intruder from head to toe.

Then he opened his eyes and looked upward, his gaze unconsciously flickering with chaotic flames.

But in the next moment, a dazzling flash of color entered his vision. He froze in place, unable to come to his senses for a long time.

Perhaps her hood had fallen as she struggled. In the bright moonlight, her silver hair, tied back, shimmered like the stars. It leaped and danced in the evening breeze along with its frantic owner, like a shining, brilliant river of stars flowing around the moon.

Lanlos stared, entranced. Thanks to the high concentration of magic in Quel'Thalas, High Elves had far better average looks and physical fitness than humans. Even so, he had never seen anyone with hair that seemed to glow like hers.

Almost unconsciously, he grabbed a lock of his own hair. It was split and tangled, coarse and dry no matter how many times he washed it.

The shame of the elves...

After her moment of terror, Vereesa was surprised to see that the strange light in the man's eyes had vanished, and his gaze had softened. But that didn't reassure her. On the contrary, a different kind of fear drove her to struggle like a madwoman.

This menacing mage had stared at her in this state without restraint for ages. He had even clutched his own hair and squirmed around with a strange expression!

Could it be... could this pervert be planning to do something to her?!

At the thought, the elven girl's smooth, delicate face turned deathly pale. Ignoring the pain, she struggled with all her strength, letting out a series of hurried, muffled whimpers.

The sound interrupted Lanlos's tangled thoughts. Seeing the girl's eyes brimming with tears and the skin around her wrists so red it looked ready to bleed, he felt a trace of pity despite the shock her appearance had caused him. He loosened some of the force in Animate Rope and freed her mouth.

"Tell me, who are you?"

Ever since the attack that night, Lanlos had realized that someone might turn their attention to him at any time. So whether he was in his room or studying in the hills behind the school, he always set a magical alarm nearby. The moment someone approached, he would know.

At the same time, ever since leaving the academy, he had refrained from using Fel, even though he had never sensed anyone following him. That was why he had been in such danger not long ago, and why the magic addiction had just now clawed at his heart, itching so badly that he had nearly torn open his chest.

The slackened ropes gave the girl room to breathe. She spat out the fibers, propped herself up, and wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth on her glove. Her gaze locked onto the mage, full of humiliation and resentment.

"You shameless villain!"

Though she was cursing him, the girl's voice was unexpectedly sweet and clear. Lanlos found himself focusing on her face.

Her slender brows gleamed with the same luster as her hair. Her pale blue eyes were bright and clear even in the dark, as if they could speak, their star-like irises conveying all her overflowing anger. Her small, elegant nose had a high curve. As her brows knitted together, her nostrils flared, yet she didn't seem fierce; instead, she looked a little cute and charming.

Her rosy lips, brushing back and forth over the back of her hand, were especially unfairly enticing. The pressure and saliva had left them glistening a tempting blood-red, and their contact with her glove inadvertently revealed just how soft and delicate they were.

What a beautiful girl.

His admiration wasn't just a reaction to her silver hair. Her bright eyes and fair skin were lovely, and the ropes wrapped around her whole body only accentuated the curvy figure already emphasized by her leather armor, adding a hint of alluring sensuality.

Mm, what a work of art...

When the mage didn't get angry at her curses, and instead fixed his burning gaze on her chest, she was reminded of the awful memory of being assaulted that night. The humiliation of the present piled on top of it, and strength erupted from somewhere inside her.

Ignoring the pain, she twisted her wrist with all her might. Her sharp dagger cut through the rope around her right hand. She used the momentum of her fall to twist around, and a flash of the blade severed the bindings around her limbs in an instant.

At the same time, Vereesa dropped like a diving hawk, knocking over the mage, who seemed too surprised to react in time. Her blade pointed straight at his eye, instantly turning the tables.

Hmph, you're finally in my hands!