Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Lance and Redmond remained at least 100 meters apart, hovering in mid-air.

As for why the two could still hear each other's voices clearly even though they were so far apart...

That's certainly not because the two of them were shouting; Lance isn't the kind of person who lacks class.

[Zero-level spell - Message!]

[Communication Spell: You point your finger at a creature within 120 meters and whisper a message. The target (and only the target) will hear the message and reply in a whisper that only you can hear.]

You may cast this spell through solid objects, but you must know your target and that they are behind the barrier. The spell's silence can be blocked by a foot-thick stone, an inch-thick piece of ordinary metal, a thin sheet of lead, or a three-foot-thick piece of wood. This spell does not require a straight line of communication; it can freely turn corners or pass through openings.

"Now, stand up and walk back."

Lance's voice echoed in Redmond's mind, "Return to your camp. Gather your surviving professionals. Cooperate well, and I might consider letting you go."

Redmond froze.

He looked up at Lance, a flicker of struggle in his eyes—but it was quickly suppressed.

"Yes...sir."

He picked up the battle axe he had thrown on the ground, staggered to his feet, and turned to walk back.

Lance hovered in mid-air, watching the towering figure below stagger back.

"Wait," Lance said via [Communication].

Redmond paused, stiffly turned around, and looked up at the sky.

"Put your things down."

Redmond paused for a moment.

"thing?"

"Take off your weapons and armor," Lance said, "and put them on the ground. Then keep going."

Redmond's face turned bright red.

Although I was mentally prepared, I still couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

This suit of armor was a treasure he had earned through twenty years of military merit, and that blood-stained axe was an old companion that had been with him in battle for over a decade.

But looking up at the silvery-white figure floating in mid-air, and then at his own current state, he wisely chose to keep quiet.

"As expected of an evil sorcerer, how greedy!"

He bent down and placed the blood axe on the ground.

Then I started unfastening the armor's clasps.

Wearing half-body plate armor is troublesome enough, but now he's covered in injuries and grimaces every time he moves.

But Redmond gritted his teeth and removed the plate armor piece by piece—chestplate, shoulder pads, arm guards, leg guards…

The clattering and clanging filled the ground.

Finally, he stood there, wearing close-fitting cotton armor and with his arms bare, looking up at Lance.

"Is it okay now?"

Lance nodded.

"Let's go, walk forward 100 meters, then stand still."

Redmond gritted his teeth, turned around, and continued walking.

His back looked extremely disheveled; his body was charred black, his left arm hung limply, and he walked with a limp.

The physical abilities of a Paradigm-level warrior are truly terrifying. They withstood four fireballs and one Thunder Step, and can still walk now...

"However, he's only just reached the Exemplary rank; his incredible durability must be due to his equipment..."

Lance waited until he had walked about a hundred meters before slowly lowering the altitude.

But he did not land.

Instead, it hovered at a height of thirty meters above the ground, raising its right hand.

[The Mage's Hand!]

An invisible force surged from his right hand, like an unseen hand reaching towards the pile of equipment on the ground.

First, there was that blood axe.

An unseen hand lifted the axe and floated it to Lance's front.

The axe blade was dark red, as if it had been soaked in blood and dried. The handle was engraved with dense runes, which gleamed faintly red in the moonlight.

Lance reached out, grasped the axe handle, and swung it gently.

[Item: Blood Axe]

[Type: Magical Weapon]

[Quality: Tier 2]

[Effect: +2 enchantment, +2 attack roll and damage roll]

Special Ability – Khorne: Each time this axe deals damage, the wielder recovers health equal to 10% of the damage dealt. If the target is killed, the wielder recovers health equal to 30% of the damage dealt.

[Note: This axe thirsts for blood. Its wielder will become increasingly addicted to the thrill of killing.]

"Good stuff." Lance nodded and put the Blood Axe into his dimensional pocket.

Then there was that pile of plate armor.

Breastplate, shoulder guards, arm guards, leg guards... one by one, the mage picked them up and floated them in front of him.

Lance reached out and touched the inside of the breastplate.

[Item: Iron Plate Armor (Half-body)]

[Type: Magical Armor]

[Quality: Tier 3]

[Effect: +3 enchantment, provides 18 points of base defense.]

Special ability - Iron Wall: The wearer gains a +2 bonus on saving throws for spells and spell-like abilities.

Special Ability - Resistance: The wearer has resistance (half the damage) to three types of energy: fire, cold, and lightning.

Special Ability - Resilience: When the wearer's health drops below 50%, gain 20 temporary health points once per day.

[Note: This plate armor was custom-made for Redmond by the master craftsmen of the Sassanid court. It doesn't have any fancy special effects, but it excels in one thing—it's incredibly durable. And indeed, it is. It withstood four fireballs without a scratch, proving its superior quality.]

"So it's Tier 3 armor. No wonder Redmond is so durable. He's only level 11, yet he can wear Tier 3 armor..."

After cleaning himself with [Magic Trick], Lance donned his armor and cast [Flight], soaring into the sky once more.

Redmond was still standing there, watching him take off, his expression extremely complex.

Lance circled slowly above his head, like an eagle surveying its territory.

……

The fire in the camp was still burning.

The three thousand cavalrymen were in complete chaos. The explosion of the fireball spell woke everyone up; some grabbed their weapons and looked around, while others were injured by the aftershocks and lay on the ground.

Some simply ran out of the camp, but after running a few steps, they didn't know where to go and could only stand in the distance and stare blankly.

Those professionals...

To be precise, they were still alive professionals, gathered in twos and threes throughout the camp.

Lance's six fireballs were specifically aimed at areas where professionals were clustered together. Three elite centurions died on the spot, and the other professionals from levels 1 to 4 suffered heavy casualties.

A rough count shows that there are about 120 left who can still stand.

They huddled together, some clutching weapons, others covering their wounds, their faces filled with terror.

"Did that monk leave?"

"I don't know... It seems like they were chasing after the general just now..."

"Can the general defeat him?"

"Are you out of your mind? That's a Paragon-level mage! A general is only level 11!"

"So what do we do?"

"Run! What are you all standing there for?!"

Someone led the way and ran out of the camp.

But after running a few steps, he saw a towering figure walking towards them from a distance.

It's Redmond.

"General! It's the general!"

"The general is back!"

"Did the general drive that sorcerer away?!"

Those people immediately stopped in their tracks, their faces lit up with surprise, and they waved their hands and cheered with joy.