Chapter 217: The Holy Mages
The four hours passed by slowly.
When the time was up, all the Mage Master-level soldiers retreated to the recovery zone. However, they were confused to see Priam remain inside the channel.
He walked among the scattered corpses, secretly collecting the corruption embedded within their cores.
Priam didn’t dare do this in plain sight while the channel was free of enemies. There were definitely mages with extremely sharp perception who might notice what he was doing. During the battle, however, the chaos and fury of combat kept everyone from focusing entirely on him, allowing him to extract it unnoticed.
Since ordinary mages couldn’t manipulate corruption in any way, being caught doing something like this would cause serious problems.
After gathering everything he could over the course of a few minutes, Priam finally headed toward the recovery zone.
"Little brother, come over here..."
The same woman from before called out to him kindly.
Priam turned around and saw them gathered in one corner—nearly a thousand female Mages of the same class. He had already noticed this peculiarity about the faction: nearly half of its members were female Holy Mages.
Even so, Priam didn’t seem particularly eager to approach.
"You need to rest, right? Come on, we won’t bother you. Don’t you trust us?" one of them said with a gentle smile.
Priam sighed. He wanted to answer that he really didn’t trust them, but seeing their genuinely kind expressions made him hesitate.
Still somewhat wary, he took a few steps toward the large group.
The girls made plenty of room for him and moved aside, silently inviting him to make himself comfortable. It was as if they genuinely wanted to offer him a safe place to rest.
As soon as Priam sat down, one of them smiled and said,
"Little brother, we’ve heard about you from Big Sister Uswyn. She told us someone even more talented than her had appeared, and that you’d soon make it into one of the main factions of the outer branch. We finally found you."
"Uswyn?" Priam muttered, remembering the woman responsible for recruiting the young mages into the sect.
"Yeah. Big Sister Uswyn used to be our faction leader. She was incredible. In just three years, she became a Mage Master. Then, after only nineteen years in the sect, she reached the Sage rank. As for us..." one of the women said with a heavy sigh, "...it took us all this time just to reach the first levels of Master Mage."
Around her, several others quietly sighed and shook their heads. The gap in talent was brutal.
"We were forced to split up," another woman murmured with a gloomy expression. "All the most talented members of Uswyn’s old faction were recruited by other Super Geniuses. We didn’t really have a choice since there were so many of us, and we didn’t want to separate. Then the Ashstalkers’ new Super Genius, Azzaurt, became a Mage Master. Since his race’s offensive abilities complemented ours—and we’re all support mages without much offensive power—we ended up joining him."
Priam nodded silently.
Ashstalkers was Walhart’s race. And Azzaurt seemed to be the name of the guy Priam had just wiped off the map. In the end, the two bastards of the same race had died almost at the exact same moment.
There was something almost poetic about it.
Another woman spoke up, looking at Priam with shining eyes.
"Big Sister told us about you because she was worried about us. She warned us that Azzaurt couldn’t be trusted and that we should switch factions as soon as we got the chance."
At that moment, Priam understood the situation.
Indeed, Azzaurt had been a ticking time bomb tied to the Elders of Laws. If Walhart discarded his own soldiers without a second thought whenever it was convenient, there was no reason to think his relative was any different. Joining that faction had been a terrible mistake from the very beginning.
All of them remained silent, visibly anxious as they waited for Priam’s response.
He let out a quiet sigh.
Being stared at by a thousand women was slightly intimidating.
Still, their reaction was understandable. Priam had displayed unprecedented talent, and on top of that, Uswyn—who had overseen the entrance test—had surely told them he was trustworthy.
To make matters even better, he was a Celestial Mage. It wouldn’t take long before he became a Master Mage and established his own elite faction within the outer branch.
After a few seconds, Priam spoke calmly.
"My faction is currently lacking Holy Mages. That said, even as the leader, I don’t force my decisions on everyone. I have a vice leader and three generals. If they approve of you, I’ll gladly accept you."
"Great!"
All at once, they all let out audible sighs of relief.
"Lord Priam, do your best to advance. There are a thousand of us now, but fifteen years ago... we were three thousand," said the woman in silver armor. Her gaze dropped to the ground, her eyes filled with melancholy. "If you can become a Master Mage within five years, I promise we’ll do everything we can to make sure no more than a hundred of us die until then."
Priam could feel the weight of the pain behind those words. The women around her all wore equally gloomy expressions.
They were an army of Holy Mages united together, despite lacking exceptional individual talent. In a brutal place like the sect, the mortality rate was devastating, and the loss of each companion felt like a poisoned blade driven into every one of their hearts.
"You won’t have to wait that long. Just focus on surviving this battle..." Priam said calmly.
The Mages looked at him with puzzled expressions.
Priam simply gave them a faint smile without saying another word.
They would understand soon enough.
He leaned against a rock and closed his eyes.
---
The days passed in a steady rhythm.
The casualties in that leaderless faction plummeted to numbers identical to those of the other groups.
The only ones falling were the front-line fighters, since their basic strategy was to keep every Holy Mage strictly protected in the rear.
As long as the healers stayed alive, any front-line mage who wasn’t killed instantly would be healed and survive.
The composition of that army was rather unusual. They didn’t even have fifty Arcanist Mages.
Roughly 40% were Physical Mages, 10% were Fighter Mages, and an astonishing 49% were Holy Mages.
Their tactical formation was divided into two lines with multiple groups. While the front line blocked and attacked, the support line kept everyone alive from a safe distance.
It was a simple concept. Under the original Super Genius’s command, it worked with minimal casualties. However, once the leader was eliminated and the enemy density multiplied, the formation proved far too rigid, completely lacking the ability to adapt.
The absence of other classes was an obvious flaw. Without its commander, the faction had been doomed to imminent collapse.
But Priam had changed that equation.
He had taken over the role of the Super Genius flawlessly.
And so, the days passed in perfect stability.
***
The first two hundred and fifty days finally came to an end.
By then, the little over one thousand Holy Mages were overflowing with optimism. Priam had proven himself to be every bit as extraordinary as Uswyn had promised.
They all sincerely hoped he would succeed, eager to join under his banner. After all, with the mysterious disappearance of their former commander, their current faction would inevitably be dissolved.
They could try to transfer to other factions, but none of them would accept a thousand Holy Mages all at once. A large force was always welcome—except when it consisted of fragile units that required constant protection.
Of course, not every Holy Mage fit that description.
Among those thousand, around two hundred specialized in nature energy. They were incredibly durable, even harder to kill than a Physical Mage, serving as the group’s last line of defense.
The remaining eight hundred or so, however, belonged to races focused on the water element, devoted purely to regeneration and purification. They possessed virtually no defensive or offensive capabilities, but were unmatched in the art of healing.
Having been together for nearly twenty years, they all considered each other family and had already agreed that they would never separate under any circumstances. If they couldn’t find a faction willing to take the entire group, they would choose to become temporary workers for the sect.
That decision would mean giving up 99% of the resources provided by the sect, condemning all of their progress to an agonizing crawl.
For a mage, the longer they remained at the same level, the harder it became to advance. The body gradually adapted to its current level, while the slow depletion of vital energy over the years eroded one’s ability to break past their own limits.
Even so, they were willing to pay that price, holding onto the hope that Priam wouldn’t take long to become a Mage Master.
...
...
...
"?"
Suddenly, one of the Holy Mages sensed a strange fluctuation rippling through the air.
It was something rare to feel, but something she knew well.
She turned toward the front lines, channeling Ether into her eyes to focus on the distant battlefield...
"W-WHAT?!"
She cried out, utterly shocked by what she saw.