Ophelia forced herself calm. She knew that unless she managed to pin the beast down and open up distance at the same time, no one would be able to help her.

Cristel once again showed the startling adaptability she had in a desperate corner: hearing Adam's instructions, the girl cast off every negative emotion and watched Ophelia with total concentration.

Adam waited. Against an opponent with that kind of mobility, the odds of one Fireball hitting dead-on were far too low; he had to seal off every position it might travel through at once before he had any chance of an effective kill.

A fast body usually meant a weak one—at least at this stage it should. Otherwise, if magical beasts were truly that gifted, there would have been no room for the human race to rise at all.

Ophelia became the bringer of death on that battlefield: wherever her figure went, magical beasts died in batches, and with them a handful of apprentices.

The beasts did not flinch from death, but the apprentices had all gone to pieces.

"Don't come over here!"

"Save me!"

"Get away—I don't want to die!"

The organization's three leaders were helpless before it too. They asked themselves honestly: if they were in Ophelia's place, they likely could not have blocked even a single strike.

William shouted at the top of his voice: "Everyone close in on me! Tighten the defensive ring—don't stand in the beasts' path!"

Quentin and Randy came over to William and said in low voices, "This can't go on. If another high-grade magical beast comes up onto the deck"—they called any beast capable of casting magic a high-grade beast—"we're finished. We have to kill it first."

Randy watched Ophelia's worsening plight, his gaze flickering: "But we're not sure we can kill the beast without hurting Ophelia..."

Quentin's tone was grim. "Then we can only wish her luck. I'm sure she'll understand..."

William, most unusually, said nothing during the decision-making, and he decided that if Quentin and Randy moved, he would stay out of it. That way, even if... it has nothing to do with me.

Ophelia was close to dying—not only physically but mentally. She realized she could not pin this beast down at all; it was toying with her, driving her in a single direction.

Toward the Fireball rune group.

"Damn it!"

Quentin and Randy cursed viciously. They were stationed right beneath the Fireball rune group; at this rate, in another dozen seconds everyone would be in danger.

The two exchanged a glance and saw the killing intent in each other's eyes at the same instant. They turned back and, as if by prior agreement, activated their magic items, aimed straight at Ophelia's receding back.

At the same moment, Adam ordered Cristel: "Prepare your spell. Fire in three seconds. Target: Ophelia's back, over the heart."

Hearing where the target was, Cristel panicked even more, but she held herself back from turning to question him. She forced herself to believe that Adam would not set Ophelia up on purpose—there had to be a reason for choosing that spot.

Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. You can do it, Cris. You can definitely do it. Cristel repeated it silently to herself over and over.

"Now." Adam's command was cool, and Cristel's Fireball flew at Ophelia with not the slightest deviation.

At the same instant, the magic items in Randy's and Quentin's hands were triggered as well. Three spells would strike Ophelia one second later.

Ophelia felt the searing heat at her back and knew the apprentices had been unable to hold back any longer. Her heart turned to dead ashes. My road as a Mage hasn't even begun. Is this how it ends? I haven't even learned Fireball yet...

Just then she heard Adam's voice: "Jump—with everything you've got."

Ophelia could swear it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She obeyed without a heartbeat's hesitation, ignoring the claws in front of her that could split her whole body open, and leapt high without a backward glance.

As if she were treading on flames.

The beast was exposed to the spells, and for the first time it let out a cry. The sound was wildly at odds with its dainty body—unexpectedly huge, like the roar of a land beast.

Faced with three great fireballs, the beast had to abandon its plaything before it had finished playing and dodge aside. It was merely somewhat angry—no fear, no rage—because it was certain such spells could never hit it.

And indeed they did not hit.

Against an agile enemy, every direct approach was useless unless you sealed off its space of movement completely or attacked faster than it could move.

"This is bad!" Randy and Quentin went white. They had not yet learned Fireball; the magic items in their hands were their greatest reliance. Although this time they had used only the two William had lent them, from the look of things, having more would have made no difference at all.

Cristel was terrified. The spells had missed, Ophelia was out of the fight; the next one, or the one after that—sooner or later one of the dead was bound to be her.

Adam did not panic. The Fireball rune group he had traced was already poised to go, and his remaining threads were calculating at full power where the beast might land and roughly which way it would move after touching down.

"Now." A probability estimate could never be a hundred percent accurate, but so long as there was some possibility it was worth a try—especially since the odds of success right now were sixty percent.

Adam swung his hand hard toward the beast's flank. Casting a spell did not actually require the aid of body or incantation; it was simply his first time trying to cast this way, and he needed some physical guide to correct his direction.

Five fireballs—five orange fireballs giving off tremendous heat—flew toward the landing point at once.

The beast was still in the air. It was still unafraid, even a little contemptuous, because none of the five fireballs could hit it. It looked at Adam and decided that once it landed it would dispose of this ugly two-legged creature.

Not one fireball struck it directly, yet the beast came down in the middle of all five. The blast of heat startled it into leaping up at once, and in the instant it jumped, the five fireballs went off. Layer upon layer of shockwaves knocked it off balance, and what came next to greet it was the searing heat.

"It worked," Adam said to himself. His calculations had not been off; the beast had obligingly moved along the lines he expected, and in the end had become a piece of roast meat under five fireballs.

Pff.

Ophelia happened to land right between Cristel and Adam—she had been flung there by the shockwave—and the joy of surviving against the odds lit a dazzling smile on her face.

"Thank you."

"If you died now, I'd be in a lot more trouble. My turn." With that, Adam walked to the front. Triggering five fireballs at once was nowhere near his limit: his threads worked in seamless relay, a small portion of his spiritual power had already recovered, and one rune group had been retraced.

The apprentice organization went silent. When Adam first used magic they had been envious but had not taken it much to heart; they told themselves they had simply been too slack these past two months, and a little effort would close the gap. Now they did not even have the courage to face him squarely—they were afraid others would see the dejection in their eyes. Five at once, in an instant. It was terrifying.

"Blake, could you have been mistaken? Isn't this boy fire-element aligned?" Having seen the scene just now from inside the cabin, Mage Jerome asked Mage Blake with a strange look on his face.

Mage Blake said, "I'm not mistaken. There is not the slightest leaning toward the fire element in his talent. As for his being able to instant cast five fireballs at once..." He gave a bitter smile. "We all know geniuses really do exist. We met one before, and now we've met another."

Mage Robert nodded. "This isn't anything elemental affinity can explain. Any of us, so long as we have enough mana in our bodies, can instant cast dozens or hundreds of low-level spells—that's because our souls are strong enough to trace low-level runes in an instant. But have you ever seen anyone, even with superior-rank fire elemental affinity, do a thing like this at the apprentice stage?"

"This is a talent more astonishing than elemental affinity. The senior Mages at the academy are certain to take notice of him," Mage Robert concluded.

Mage Irene was still savoring her wine; it had already stained her lips red. She smiled and said, "Blake, your luck really is good. Why don't you step in and protect him a little? If he dies at sea, your reward is going to be discounted."

Mage Blake shook his head. "No need. With that child's intelligence and strength, this level of apprentice trial won't stump him. And there's one thing you've all got wrong: compared with him, I think more highly of her." Mage Blake pointed at Cristel. "Her affinity is the same as mine, and her talent is good. No reward can compare with personally raising a full-fledged Mage."

On the deck Adam casually killed any beast that came near. At first he had assumed the beasts attacking them were few because of the difference in numbers, but after careful observation he found it wasn't so. Low-grade magical beasts knew only destruction, so naturally they surged toward wherever there were the most people; high-grade beasts seemed to be different.

Their goal was not simple slaughter, but something else.

He judged so because, within a few hours, every one of the newest high-grade beasts had ignored Adam and his group and charged toward the organization—even the body-refining beast had done the same. That had left the organization with brutal casualties: in less than a day, nearly a third of them were dead.

"If I had to name a reason, it would be..." Adam set his eyes on the Fireball rune group.

Adam wanted to test it out. Spiritual power and mana possessed the mighty ability to interfere with reality, but they themselves should have no physical mass; in other words, the rune group ought to be "nothingness."

Adam scooped up a sea fish with one foot and kicked it like an arrow at the rune group.

Pff—the fish struck the second rune and burst into a pancake of flesh.

"So it really is them. They have mass—meaning it's this mass-forming substance that keeps drawing the beasts in."