Jonn’s meteor shower descended upon the darkened terrain where a segment of the enemy forces relentlessly advanced toward the Eternal Village.

  The meteors rained down over a vast expanse, striking the earth at many points simultaneously. Each impact unleashed relentless devastation, pulverizing everything in its trajectory, detonating violently, and carving out deep, rugged craters upon the landscape.

  For a fleeting moment, fragments of the ravaged ground seemed to burst into flames, with fiery tongues and swirling clouds of black dust billowing skyward. These eruptions were punctuated by thunderous explosions and the anguished screams of those caught in the chaos.

  From their vantage points, positioned at a safe distance to avoid the immediate onslaught and the airborne debris, both factions of the battle gazed in sheer horror. They watched impassively as countless individuals were engulfed by the inferno and swallowed by the choking black dust, while others emitted tortured howls of pure agony.

  Jonn’s meteor shower was powerful, yet it comprised few meteors conjured by a level 3 mage. Its destructive force was phenomenal, but the enemy group remained mobile, with several members on horseback. Of the more than one hundred infantry and cavalry advancing against the village, most survived Jonn’s devastating assault. A few dozen, yet, fell where they had been mere moments before, their bodies partially or completely destroyed—burned, crushed, or even torn apart by fragments from the meteor impacts.

  Many others survived, but several suffered gruesome wounds while fighting Jonn. Their bodies were scorched by flames or small meteor fragments. They sustained burns of varying severity, with some receiving cuts from the rock debris, primarily on their legs and arms, while the most severely injured had their abdomens penetrated by larger fragments.

  “Aaaaagh!”

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

  “Please! Save me! Please!”

  “Aagh! My hand!”

  The cacophony of screams and desperate exclamations intensified as seconds ticked by, the sound of destruction gradually fading while the plight of the wounded became painfully clear.

  The lingering dust in the air slowly settled, unveiling the gruesome illustration of shattered body parts strewn among fallen men—some still clinging to life despite their dreadful injuries. Horses lay either dead or limply wounded, their breaths shallow and labored.

  The scene was devastating enough to frighten the hardiest souls. Yet, both factions capable of fighting pressed on nonstop.

  The Eternal Village's beasts surged ahead of the local attack. They were undeterred by the choking dark dust that obscured parts of the battlefield. Their presence cast eerie shadows, adding to the chaotic ambiance. Meanwhile, the village guards sprinted behind, their faces slick with cold sweat as they readied their spears, swords, and shields, eyes darting nervously over the devastated terrain.

  Eliot loosed a volley of long-range arrows, each one finding its mark with deadly precision. Jonn shifted his focus to the two enemy mages approaching with magical assaults. The degree of Jonn’s devastating attack had been partly limited by these two adversaries—both level 3 Acolytes.

  “Damned monster! You must die!” the commander of the invading troops said, his voice echoing over the battlefield. Wielding a wand like Jonn’s own, he conjured golden blocks of mana that materialized in the air, hurtling toward Jonn with lethal intent.

  These were no ordinary mana constructs. Jonn felt their overbearing presence as the blocks formed around him. Each one pulsed with a power that sought to suppress and control. Being hit by one meant not only enduring the physical onslaught of the attack but also bearing the mark of a suppressive seal—an enchantment that would be excruciatingly difficult to dispel.

  The enemy’s {Spell} was fascinating, exuding a potent, concealed strength. It was a long-range assault, yet simultaneously a binding magic, capable of inflicting nearly permanent damage upon an opponent during combat. Even if its effects were fleeting, the mere act of weakening an adversary in the heat of battle could lead to fatal, irreparable injuries.

  The other foe wielded a slightly less formidable {Spell}, though still dangerous enough to warrant Jonn’s vigilance. The mage's sword strikes turned into blades of pure air and mana. They sliced through the battlefield for dozens of meters with great force.

  Jonn calculated that a single strike from 60 meters away with one of those blades could easily split a horse in half!

  Confident in his armor, he nonetheless preferred not to test its limits. Dropping from Windy’s back—who, due to her size, would have been an easy target—Jonn steeled himself for solo combat against the two mages.

  [Hex of Silence]!

  With both enemy mages within his range, Jonn employed his first tactic against adversaries reliant on verbal magic, casting a seal that clamped down on their lips and silenced their incantations.

  Even if the two didn’t have {Spells} or {Skills} that depended on spoken words, cutting off their verbal communication was a strategic advantage Jonn valued highly.

  As he dodged the golden mana blocks hurled by one mage and the razor-sharp blade projections from the other, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead from the intense exertion. In a swift, decisive motion, he unleashed his latest {Spell}!

  [Flame Avatar]!

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Within a mere four seconds, Jonn felt his mana reserves dwindle in tandem with the system warnings flashing before his eyes.

  A blazing orange duplicate of himself ignited into existence beside him, engulfed in flames and flowing mana.

  Jonn was at the initial level of {Spell} mastery, with a total of four tiers to ascend. Each successive level enhanced his abilities—from increased efficiency and amplified magical power to the number of avatars he could summon. At the first level, he could command one avatar, but this number doubled with each advancement in mastery.

  For the time being, a single avatar sufficed for Jonn’s needs.

  The fiery orange entity sprang to life the moment it was fully formed, lunging toward one of the two enemy mages with relentless speed.

  Meanwhile, Jonn swiftly swapped his [Spirit Wand] for [Wuthering Fury], gripping his spear once more as he charged toward the sword-wielding mage.

  Gifted with the ability to let his avatar act autonomously, Jonn split his efforts in combat while giving his animals and fellow villagers the chance to defeat the remaining enemies.

  And that’s exactly what the village animals did!

  Ice, Annabelle, and the eagle Veris surged ahead of the group, being the swiftest among the creatures that had joined the village’s defense battalion.

  Annabelle darted forward with her beak lowered, her eyes blazing with fury as she visualized the daring interlopers. Her great master was engaged in battle, and she was determined to support him. However, her mission was clear: eliminate the threat to the Eternal Village before assisting her powerful master.

  Commanding the animals with precision, she directed the weaker ones to target the enemy humans already wounded by their supreme leader’s devastating attack. Meanwhile, the stronger creatures were instructed to engage the uninjured foes alongside them.

  Despite having obvious targets, creatures like Mimosa, Luna, and Roulf continued to finish the wounded humans by simply moving through the areas still littered with bodies from Jonn’s assault. Their heavy bodies and thunderous steps caused the ground to tremble slightly as the bovines trampled at least half a dozen opponents in their path.

  Many of these deaths, marked by vital organs crushed beneath the village bovines’ feet, hadn’t even been intentional. Roulf and his companions failed to notice some enemies lying in the middle of their path, obscured by the lingering black dust in the air and smeared with blood and dirt.

  Phantom joined the group, attacking further ahead, using his speed to keep pace with the village’s roosters and hens. Not far behind him, an armadillo moved like a rolling boulder, gaining momentum as it leveraged the terrain to its advantage.

  They intercepted the least injured or least alert humans in the enemy group just ten seconds after Roulf and the cows had dispatched the first adversaries, swiftly thinning the ranks of their opponents.

  A noise of shouts to retreat blended with the mixture of sounds—chicken cries, cow mooing, and wolf howls echoed through the battlefield. Amidst the chaos, strange glows shimmered from the dust-covered area, with fiery orange shapes resembling horns and blades of air slicing through the smoky haze.

  Petyr narrowed his eyes as he sprinted a few dozen meters behind the last of the beasts, his group of guards mirroring his tense expressions.

  It was clearer than ever that Jonn was a mage and that the village’s animals possessed strengths far beyond their initial assessments. Yet, these creatures were remarkably organized and resolute in their mission to defeat the village’s enemies—an encouraging sign.

  “Shit! I can’t see anything ahead,” Asher said from Petyr’s side, his voice tinged with fear of hidden foes and frustration at the obscured view of the battlefield.

  All they could perceive were fleeting shadows and sporadic sparkles scattered throughout the air. Only Jonn’s battle remained within their immediate sight.

  Despite this, they couldn’t afford to ignore the ongoing fight. The archers and the last men of the invading force were still positioned where their group had initially halted.

  It was their duty to join the animals and ensure that no enemy escaped!

  Thus, the group of village guards, formed in battle stance, advanced across the terrain ravaged by Jonn’s meteors, pushing through the area of poor visibility.

  As they moved forward, they encountered the lifeless bodies of horses and armed adversaries, tracing the deadly path of Jonn’s initial offensive and the later actions of the village’s beasts.

  Ahead, not far off, Roulf swung his flaming horns, knocking another enemy rider off his horse. The blade of fire pierced through the quadruped’s abdomen, pinning the man’s leg as this bull forcefully threw him to the ground.

  Roulf was so strong that he briefly lifted the horse into the air with the sheer power of his neck before mercilessly crushing it back to the ground.

  “Mooo!”

  Further ahead, Annabelle soared into the sky, halting the enemy’s sword strike. The attacker widened his eyes, bewildered by the surreal sight unfolding before him. The hen hovered in mid-air for a split second, blocking the blade with a single claw. Then, using the body of the sword, Annabelle maneuvered through the air, her wings moving with precision like the blades of a guillotine.

  “Aaagh!” the man screamed as he tumbled backward, a large gash tearing open at the base of his neck.

  Annabelle landed gracefully back on the ground, one of her bloodstained wings outstretched, while her chicken-like head bore an unimpressed expression. “Seventh,” she counted, then scanned the surrounding terrain before dashing toward the next enemy.

  Meanwhile, arrows with no clear target were being loosed by the remaining archers at the attack group’s starting position. Now, aside from the archers, only Baynard and half a dozen men remained.

  The captains continued to order their archers to fire into the area that was gradually clearing of dust, their faces etched with worry. There was no way to predict the outcome of this fight now. Too much uncertainty loomed, and their leaders were directly engaged with the enemy mage.

  But one thing was certain: regardless of the outcome, their group would suffer heavy losses today!

  Baynard, in particular, wore a grim expression, his mind clouded with thoughts from minutes ago. Even if they emerged victorious today, he would never have the strength left to confront Count Javis Riverash!

  As the sounds of clashing weapons, arrows whizzing through the air, and screams of agony filled the battlefield, Baynard couldn’t shake the urge to flee, haunted by the fear of punishment even if his group triumphed today.

  ’I gave Duke Dayflare the wrong information! He might execute me himself depending on today’s losses!’ Baynard scanned the chaotic battlefield while still mounted on his horse.

  Realizing that everyone nearby was focused on the first animals emerging into their line of sight, charging toward them, he adjusted his posture, striking the horse’s belly with his spurs to urge it into a frantic gallop.

  “Baynard!” said aloud one of Duke Dayflare’s men, who saw his sudden movement, labeling him as the first coward to reveal himself in combat.

  Other soldiers glanced in his direction, though not all cast blame his way. The urgency to flee was undeniable!

  “Not so fast, traitor!”

  Amid Baynard’s desperate attempt to escape, a distant shout pierced the tumult, prompting him to glance back. He caught sight of Eliot’s silhouette atop a horse, a large metal bow held menacingly close to the archer’s face.

  Eliot released an arrow, causing Baynard to freeze, memories of the village rumors about Eliot’s impeccable accuracy in hunts flooding his mind.

  According to the villagers, Eliot never missed his target!

  The whistling sound of Eliot’s arrow slicing through the air was like a death knell for Baynard, making his heart race as the arrow traced a deadly parabola toward him.

  Eliot had just lowered his bow, preparing to nock another arrow, when the first one found its mark, piercing Baynard’s chest.

  “Cough!”

  Baynard didn’t feel his body being yanked off the horse and crashing to the ground. Instead, he felt a brutal impact against his chest, followed by splattered blood as he fell backward onto the earth in the very spot he had once envisioned as his future.

  His eyes fluttered wildly in terror, scarcely believing the reality that was unfolding before him.

  The light dimmed in his eyes as the noise of battle faded, enveloping him in the silent embrace of impending death.

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