Ruger and Vito had long since prepared spells, poised and ready to strike.
Layden's hand holding the torch trembled, drawing a larger ring of fire. Even as he moved, the Fireball Spells he kept casting never stopped. The giant python slammed into the fire ring, which looked as though a child had waved it into being. Its body twisted as it let out a hiss. Along with the explosion of a fireball in the distance, the giant python suddenly appeared where the fireball had detonated and gave another unwilling hiss. Then a mass of fireballs flew out, blotting out the sky. Layden strolled leisurely as he shifted his steps. Though he apparently lacked a means of throwing out many fireballs at once, the time the giant python wasted running about had allowed more and more fireballs to accumulate.
Watching, Ruger felt that before long, the amassed Fireball Spells might possess no less power than an ordinary first-circle Fireball Spell, though it was a cumbersome process.
The giant python hissed in pain. With one careless mistake, it was struck by a great many fireballs, its flesh splitting open and blood spurting forth. This was also one reason for Ruger's earlier judgment. Extreme precision was a guarantee of power when combined with quantity. As Layden wandered around holding that broken stick of wood, each of his Fireball Spells seemed to have grown eyes. They did not resemble fireballs at all, but rather a group of spirited beings working in perfect coordination.
Of course, Layden might also possess some special means of controlling them.
The giant python hissed. Every time it swallowed its own tail and vanished, more fireballs gathered. Every time it seized a chance to launch a sneak attack, it was sent flying into the distance with a bang.
And Layden