In the dark, people instinctively longed for light. Endless darkness meant the unknown, with dangers hidden inside it. Light could drive it back and show them the ground beneath their feet.
Now a light flickered in the darkness, beautiful and hauntingly blue.
Gray mist rolled in a dense, unbroken mass.
The moment the Golden Eyeball refused to fit into a storage pocket, the thirteen Wizards knew they had lost their last bargaining chip. All they could do was drag their battered bodies into one final struggle. Even people who clearly did not know each other, or held grudges against one another, managed to coordinate their spells on the Circular Plaza, where there was nowhere to run. Those too injured to stand alone leaned on each other.
The Bearers, though badly outnumbered, held the advantage. They were in no hurry to fight to the death. They simply kept spreading gray mist.
That was why, over the past few years, the Wizards on the island would have struggled to defeat the Bearers even if they had united. Against Bearers who followed the same path of Wizardry, ordinary Wizards' coordinated spells were almost a joke. The more people fought on either side, the worse the Wizards' position became. Yet few Wizards could face a Bearer alone. Barry Danton bore some responsibility for that. The quality of the Wizards he brought to the island had steadily improved, but he had remained too cautious.
Boom!
Mahama's strides grew longer and louder with every step. His final step landed with a thunderous crash, as though announcing that the Cyclops had returned to this land.
Several Wizards cursing Barry Danton fell silent. A Wizard with a broken leg, who had only just managed to stand, was struck by flying debris and knocked down again.
Ruger rolled his