A fierce wind swept through, accompanied by spell fluctuations.
The wind rode the currents high above, carrying the apprentices and wizards who were poor flyers farther away from where they had taken to the sky, away from the towering monster. Most of the wizards had already strayed from that spot when the camp scattered. With this gust, the camp's wizards were dispersed completely.
Ruger glanced over. It was the Toothless Old Man. The powerful wind gushed from his wand, which stood taller than a person, and steadily expanded.
Seeing a Formal Wizard who had not mastered a Flight Spell, Ruger inwardly heaved a sigh of relief for his former self. At least back then he had wings, enough to fly a short distance and glide.
"So, these are wizards?"
The same question, spoken in an unfamiliar language with a peculiar manner of vocalization, carried wonder and strange fluctuations of mental power that allowed Ruger to grasp its general meaning.
An Intelligence-Level Invader, only this time he could not even find its mouth.
Slime Algae, a thick tree trunk, rotten mushrooms, and perhaps other things formed something like a tall, burly member of the Treefolk, standing there.
Ruger looked around. The wizards were all descending rapidly, and he alone was the slowest.
A strange chant rang out.
Three One-Ring Wizards had gathered together, declining old toothless Holm's kindness. Holding hands, they returned to the sky above the original campsite. More precisely, they were now directly above the towering invader.
Ruger could sense their excitement.
Strange incantations flowed from their mouths. It was a rare sight: incantations were uncommon, and joint chanting even more so. Ruger had only read about it in books.
The fluctuations of their mental power had almost synchronized. They held hands in a circle, its center aligned with