historical

Using the terrain for any sort of advantage, the mystical staff was waved, giving way for the ground behind her to morph, losing its solid form and turning into a large, tidal wave of mud that loomed over the hunters.

Leading the chase, the elven hunter with long, platinum hair held his hand in front of himself, speaking in a whisper that was too quiet and too fast to be heard, "----"

At that moment, Celly felt a spike in mana; a refined signature that felt like a wise, ancient tree, yet honed for something sinister. As she looked back, the tidal wave of mud was parted by an archway of stone being formed, dispersing the entrapping liquid and allowing the hunters to continue sprinting forth, unimpeded.

It had to have been manifested within a second; the construct of stone created a tunnel that completely negated the desired effect of the mud wave.

'Magic? I didn't hear anything. Was it without an incantation? If they can use magic too, then this is even worse than I thought–still, it doesn't mean I'll stand down without a fight!' She thought.

Nearing a large clearing in the luscious land, surrounded by tall-standing, emerald-leaf trees, she came to a sudden stop, spinning around to face her three pursuers with a determined look embedded in her soft, but strong, green irises.

'As an archmage, direct combat isn't my speciality. I'm more of a scholar than a fighter; at best, my greatest spells are used for large-scale defenses, however–that's not what I have to be right now! I'm the one who taught Emilio–he's a savant when it comes to magic combat; I have to hold my own, or I'll disappoint my star pupil!' She thought with determination flooding through her body.

That willpower was forged through her decision to no longer run, standing her ground even in the situation in which she possessed little understanding. It wasn't often that the studied archmage was pushed into such corners, experiencing the true pressures of life-and-death in the world, but she didn't back down.

'Remember what you learned. Don't cast any wasteful spells. Don't leak any unnecessary mana. Empower yourself and fight,' she thought.

"Fang of The Disarmed!" Celly invoked, yelling the true name of the spell out with no desire to waste any effort.

As she wrapped her pale fingers around the white material of her staff, an aura of sharp wind extended down its length, creating a sharp edge that let out a continuous hiss; it was the breath of the malicious wind.

She wielded her staff like a sword, holding it with both hands as she looked at the three elven hunters, who came to a stop as well, each standing at three different spots across from her.

"Tell me–what do you want with me? If this is your territory, then I apologize, but I don't even know how or why I ended up here," she said.

There was no response; only that same, apathetic look in their sable eyes as if looking upon prey below themselves on the food chain. She was outnumbered; that was a factor she couldn't dispute. Additionally, she could feel her reserves of mana reaching its limit as her fingers lightly trembled against the staff she wielded.

'They won't even talk to me. Is it because they don't understand me or is it because they see me as nothing more than prey?' She questioned.

The moment the lanky, elven hunter with shorter hair took a single step, she held her ground–swiping her enchanted staff as she unleashed a slice of wind that cleaved through the soil just before the hunter's boot.

"Stay back!" She yelled.

The silent hunter stopped just short of where the cutting wind had landed its wrath, though there was no emotion worn on his face. It seemed a warning would only be heeded if she displayed some power; seeing the ferocity of the enchantment of sharp wind she wielded, the hunters looked wary now.

Though she believed this for a moment, it was the long-haired elf, who stood mightier in height than his companions, who began to make a move. There was an aura around the figure that unnerved her; an ice-cold confidence worn on that emotionless face, embedded in those ruthless, black eyes.

The long-haired hunter reached behind his back, unsheathing the weapon that had been strapped behind him slowly.

'...A weapon?' She thought, keeping her distance, but not giving up any ground as she planted her boots against the firm soil.

What was dragged out from its black leather scabbard was a long, unorthodox greatsword, with an edge specialized with sharp ridges, seeming meant for only one specific task: slaughter. It wasn't made out of silver metal like a normal blade she was used to; it was forged of what looked to be copper and obsidian; a bronze-and-black blade that was as tall as the archmage herself.

The leading hunter began slowly approaching her, wielding this frightening sword as his pitch-black eyes locked onto her.

"Stay back!" Celly warned.

This time, the yell wasn't listened to as she found the figure still approaching her. There was no choice but to attack, leaving her swinging her staff, unleashing a vertical slice of wind that cleaved through the soil before her–

SWOOSH.

'No way,' she thought.

Seamlessly, the elven figure only made a single movement, moving his sword to the side, but perfectly countering the nearly invisible slice of air.

'He's out of my league. All of them are. That wind is supposed to be sharp enough to cut straight through steel–yet he deflected it with his own sword? How did he even sense it? React to it?' She thought.

The archmage held one, distinct disadvantage in this fight that all but cemented it before it even began: she was only experienced in fighting monsters, not intelligent, humanoid fighters. This stark contrast in experience led her to inaction as she stood there, unable to conjure a plan in mind as the hunter stepped closer and closer.

Nonetheless, she regained her resolve, readying herself as the figure came within a few meters, about to attack before something else arrived:

The sound of flames swirling into existence echoed throughout the region; she along with the hunters looked around before finally staring up, finding where the sound of fire was coming from.

"...Huh," she let out, perplexed by the sight.