The iron ball Nalant had teleported through space to the Red-Robed Archbishop's head was none other than a smaller homemade grenade.
Although such small homemade grenades were no longer especially useful, Nalant had a spatial ring, so he had always stored a few away under the principle of being prepared for anything.
And this time, they came in handy.
With Nalant's strength, it was absolutely impossible for him to break through the Red-Robed Archbishop's defenses from the outside.
But spatial teleportation could ignore those defenses and send the homemade grenade directly inside the protective barrier.
Unfortunately, Nalant had practiced this spatial teleportation for too short a time. Otherwise, if he could have teleported a larger homemade grenade, he would have been even more certain of success.
Fortunately, although the Red-Robed Archbishop's strength could be called the greatest on the field, he was a mage. His physical body simply could not compare to that of a Title Knight.
So even this smaller grenade, at the very least, could deal him a devastating blow.
When the wind shield and Black Rock Wall vanished, Nalant knew his attack had succeeded.
Now it only remained to see whether the Red-Robed Archbishop was completely dead. If not, stepping forward to finish him off should not be a problem.
At this moment, everyone in the field had stopped moving, and delight appeared on the faces of the counts.
Finally, when the smoke swirling around the Archbishop dispersed, a miserable sight was revealed before everyone.
Half the Red-Robed Archbishop's scalp had been blasted away, and one side of his face was a bloody, mangled mess.
Yet astonishingly, the Red-Robed Archbishop was still alive.
"Spatial magic! How is that possible? Wasn't it said that, aside from records, no one had ever truly succeeded in cultivating it?"
However, though