A blazing fireball streaked through the hall with a deep rush of wind.
From the side, three or five crystalline ice spears whistled out and slammed heavily into the fireball.
The collision of ice and fire, the instant vaporization and explosion, stirred up a violent current in midair that spread in every direction. But before long, that violent current was swallowed by the even more powerful auras surging around it.
And the Hunting Team Captain, that burly male wizard, stood right at the center of this storm that seemed capable of reaching Category Eighteen.
Beneath his feet, the soft long-pile carpet, usually so plush, now extended one life-chasing cord after another, desperately trying to bind this tyrannical beast. Yet it achieved little.
Bang, bang, bang!
The sounds of snapping cords mingled with the roar of the dwarven mechanism talisman cannon, making them seem exceedingly faint. Yet faint as they were, those cords still hindered the Hunting Team Captain, making every step he took feel as though he were trudging through a mud swamp.
"Reload!" the dwarf roared. "Buy me some time!"
Before he finished speaking, the mechanism talisman cannon fell abruptly silent.
Several Old Liches, gaunt as skeletons and little more than skin and bone, seized the chance after the barrage faded. They leaped swiftly between the coffee tables and sofas, looking exactly like a pack of old mountain monkeys.
In the blink of an eye, they broke through the Hunting Team's defensive barrier and rushed before the young hunters.
Then they tore away their loose robes, revealing their bony bodies.
"Caw caw caw caw!"
The Old Liches' laughter was as grating as crows. Their eyes were filled with greed as they looked at the young hunters, like starving tigers spotting lost lambs or a pack of wolves surrounding an