Water Bullet—though it was one of the most basic spells, it was also one of the least lethal. What use was a water bullet no bigger than a fist, other than drenching someone like a drowned rat? Perhaps one could only hope that the cold winds of winter would freeze those who had been splashed to death more quickly.
For Demiurge, the mana consumed by Water Bullet did not even match his natural mana regeneration rate. If he wished, he could cast Water Bullet nonstop, day and night, for an entire lifetime.
But... releasing one hundred and fifty-three thousand Water Bullets at once?
That was somewhat beyond Demiurge's imagination. He felt that even Lord Ainz could not simultaneously construct so many magic circles with such precision while ensuring that every spell remained under control and did not interfere with the others.
What the hell were these Primarchs?!
Amid Demiurge's astonishment, the Water Bullets released by Angron merged into an enormous wave that could only be seen at the end of the world, crashing toward the Evil Sun.
The two collided. Water continuously evaporated, forming dense white mist that gradually engulfed the entire plaza and even half the city.
Although he had blocked the powerful spell cast by Demiurge, Angron still felt somewhat disappointed. He thought he should spare some time to read more copies of those spellbooks. Magic whose principles he had guessed from nothing more than scattered rumors was still far too weak.
The Evil Sun vanished, leaving only mist before him. Angron let out a soft breath. He felt mentally tired and wanted to yawn to relax.
The moment his mouth opened, Demiurge's snickering laughter came as he seized upon Angron's brief lapse.
"Ha... as expected, you're showing signs of fatigue. Even for a powerful Primarch, casting so