Compress, compress, compress!
In the final stages of preparation, the only thing that exists in my consciousness is the Gravity Bomb. It grows darker and darker as the crushing force takes on a life of its own. Even so, I continue to force more of the purple Gravity Mana into it until the pressure of holding the sphere of pure magic together starts to push back against my mind. Working with Mana in this way is always headache-inducing, and each of my four brains is pounding by the time I cut off the supply of Mana and prepare the spell for launch.
“I’m ready to throw out the bomb. Clear the deck!” I call out a warning to the ants in the area.
The word is rapidly passed along, and the core shapers coordinate to clear their centipedes out of the danger zone at the front as quickly as possible.
[Invidia, are you clear?]
[Yessssss.]
Nice.
“Black hole in the hole!”
HHHHOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWLLLLLL!
As ever, the Gravity Bomb announces its presence in spectacular fashion, causing a storm of wind and filling the tunnel with the now-familiar shriek the moment it’s released. The sound is deafening, as if the air itself were screaming as the near black sphere devoured it. It’s a terror-inducing effect that’s only magnified by the spell swallowing all light as it travels. The ants know what’s coming and dig their claws into the walls of the tunnel even as I do the same. The Legion too is familiar with this scene, and their response hasn’t changed, only grown stronger over time.
Shields and barriers spring to life by the dozens the moment I unleash the spell, and a host of minds reach out to rip the Gravity Bomb apart before it can land. At the same time, the ants launch a new offensive, hundreds of mages who’ve remained hidden until now throwing their Will into the contest.
Once again, the battle to control the rock of the tunnel is pushed to the brink as the colony attempts to drop tons of stone and pointed slabs of pure iron onto the heads of the attackers. Invidia himself goes to work batting away the mages who try to unmake the Gravity Bomb, pitting his own considerable prowess against the Legion in an attempt to preserve the power I packed into the spell.
The bomb strikes home as it always does, flickering into its final form—a slowly rotating sphere of pure destruction. The pull is dreadful. Hanging from the roof, I dig in as hard as I can to resist being a victim of my own spell. It’s a risk, casting this spell whilst hanging here, since my weight is so much higher than my grip has been able to sustain, but where there is a Will, there is a way, and I hold on fiercely as the bomb ravages all it can touch.
126. The Siege, Part 4
Bwahahahaha! Behold my power!
I have to say, watching the devastation unleashed by the Gravity Bomb never fails to elicit an exaggerated sense of achievement in me. Look at what I have wrought! In reality, the bomb is structurally the simplest piece of magic I’ve ever attempted on Pangera. A blob of pure Gravitational Mana crushed into itself as hard as I can manage before being flung out into the world. Far more than Cunning, Will is the stat that determines the strength of this spell since my ability to force and compact Mana is dependent on my willpower.
The current rendition of my most destructive spell can only be called an unqualified success by my own standards. The potent drag of the expanded Gravity Bomb threatens to pull me from my perch on the ceiling, and many ants fight to maintain their position on the walls.
What it feels like closer to the epicentre, I can only imagine. Unpleasant, I’m sure. Although my brains are exhausted so soon after releasing the Gravity Mana, I extend my senses out toward the Legion in order to get a sense of how the clash is going.
Thankfully, they’re struggling. Although they have expertly layered their defensive abilities with magical shields and ripped away at my spell, they’ve not been able to do the work they’ve previously employed to mitigate the spell before it’s able to land. The many-pronged attack of the colony has done its work in forcing our opponents into having to make difficult decisions. Do they try and hold the ceiling together and strike back at the ants positioned in the tunnels there? Do they fend off the limitless poisoned tentacles of the centi-sludge, or do they commit everything to limiting the impact of the Gravity Bomb?
It feels as if they chose to do all of the above, and as a result, they’ve lost some ground on each front. Sections of the tunnel roof are starting to slip even as the shadow pets begin to close on their lines, spreading their toxic blessing, and the bomb is shattering the protections they put in place just as quickly as they put them up.
It’s clear the Legion didn’t expect us to be able to bring the number of mages to bear that we have, likely believing they would retain their comfortable superiority in this regard. The fools!
From my perspective, all action in the tunnel has come to a stop as the screaming sphere of black death rotates in place and consumes everything that falls into its maw. The air, the dirt, the light, nothing is safe from its insatiable hunger, and all we can do is hold on until it peters out. After hurling this spell into the teeth of the Legion so many times without breaking through, it’s almost a shock when a notification from Gandalf appears.
[You have defeated a Level 53 Abyssal Legion Scout.]
[You have gained XP.]
[You have reached Level 66. One Skill Point awarded.]
Holy moly! I actually got one? Take that! Wait… it wasn’t Morrelia, was it? Ugh, can I really afford to worry about that right now? I force all thoughts of the dark-haired berserker from my mind and focus on the task at hand. The Legion is under extreme pressure, and if we’re going to win, we can’t allow it to stop.
The second the spell runs out of power, it flickers and then fades to nothing. The silence and stillness that hangs in the air is profound after the cacophony of shrieking wind that had felt so oppressive just a moment ago. The Legion is still there, ranked up together with shields to the front, but it’s clear those in the vanguard have suffered under the effects of my spell. Many are showing injuries, some have collapsed, one knee in the dirt as they breathe heavily.
Tanking the brunt of my strike for their fellows has cost these Legionaries dearly, and for many of them, they will have no further part in this battle. I notice Morrelia is not among the wounded, which gives me mixed feelings.
On the other hand, I know how to feel about the hulking, axe-wielding form in front of the column. That massive chap appears almost totally unharmed, with barely a scuff in his armour. Judging by the positioning of the other soldiers, it appears as if the nearby Legionaries stepped forward to protect their leader from the worst of it, taking the wrath of the Gravity Bomb onto their own shoulders. An action that caused one of them to pay the ultimate price.
Unwilling to let this chance slip, the ants dash forward to renew their bombardment, with Tiny, Invidia, and Crinis joining in from a safe distance. Wearing down the opponent before the final clash is still the name of the game, and I refuse to let Tiny leap into the ranks of the enemy and get himself filleted by the axe-guy before he manages to land a single punch. Instead, I have him throwing boulders using his considerable arm strength and blasting out with lightning when he gets a chance.