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"Why? Why can I no longer attack it? What is this… What force is restraining me?!"
Near the crystalline spire, an elven magician stared in disbelief at his own hands, now halted mid-incantation. He had been forcibly withdrawn from controlling the spire's assault.
His thoughts whirled, yet no answer came to mind. Something had suddenly changed. He found himself utterly unable to direct any aggression toward the World-Eater, who was now heading into the Forest of Origin.
No matter how he struggled to reclaim control over his body, the moment he so much as attempted to launch an attack—or assist in one—his limbs would resist his command. Worse, his body would even take countermeasures to erase anything that might pose a threat to the World-Eater. It was as though his very flesh had turned traitor.
On the eleventh attempt to reassert control, his body acted on its own, ramming his staff directly into the control core of the crystal spire before him.
Though bereft of a soul's guidance, the staff's embedded mana crystal still resonated with the core's rampant magical energies.
Violent waves of power surged outward. Fire, drawn from the crystal's essence, mingled with the volatile magical energies and triggered an explosion, devouring the mage in flames.
When the smoke and fire dissipated, he stood—charred, yet alive—encased in a shimmering shield of magic, his face twisted with grim reali...
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