Transformation Spell! Transform, Transform, Transform!

Li Ziran had not yet recovered from the excitement of the Spirit Crystal when the agony of his severed arm shot into his brain.

Joy and pain—within an instant, two utterly opposing emotions collided across his cerebral cortex like twin floods, nearly blowing the top off his skull.

His body had bizarrely forgotten how to react.

But the struggle between those two emotions soon produced a winner.

The intense pain swept the excitement away clean, and the agony of severed nerves instantly occupied every one of his thoughts.

Aaaah!!!

He let out a pig-slaughtering scream. The horrifying cry struck the walls and echoed back wildly, making it all the more desolate.

It seemed that the entire Wasteland held nothing but that scream.

Yet amid his agonized cries, there was a discordant cold laugh.

Jon, a Title Magister among the Elves, was coldly watching Li Ziran roll endlessly on the ground. Especially that arm spraying blood—it was as though he were watching an ordinary fireworks display.

At last, his mood improved.

But he still did not seem satisfied. With a flick of his finger, a Light Blade flew out and landed directly on Li Ziran's lower back, slicing open a wound half a finger long.

Sizzle!

Blood spurted high like a fountain. Under the sunlight, it formed blotches of crimson.

"Ha..."

That splash of red finally made Jon laugh aloud after being tense for so long. He felt very satisfied.

Yet his gaze turned even colder. His fingers flicked repeatedly, and five Light Blades shot out, landing viciously on Li Ziran's other arm.

Sizzle!

Four sprays of blood.

Those points of light were incredibly fast, yet the wounds they inflicted were tiny, enough to form little fountain-like jets of blood.

Blood splashed high, refracting the sunlight into seven colors.

Layer upon