Catato Patch 

*Pitter patter…* As the acidic rain poured from the sky, a blanket of corrosive grey descended upon the wandering spirits, soaking them in an instant.

 

“What’s this?!” Was their first reaction after being covered in an unknown grey substance.

 

However, the searing pain that flooded from the depths of their minds soon gave them the answer they needed!

 

In an instant, the highly corrosive substance liquefied any area it came into contact with. All around, large patches of blood and soul substance oozed off the bodies of the wandering spirits, robbing them of their ability to move.

 

As their greenish blood slowly mixed with the corroded metallic slag and fell off their bodies, the blackish soil of the Abyss started to take on a greyish-red hue.

 

All around them, the resounding howls of the wandering spirits echoed across the battlefield. Hearing that, even the hotblooded warriors amongst them couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Truly, this was a torture of a different kind. All they could do was watch helplessly as their soul bodies slowly corroded from their paralyzed state.

 

Even the seasoned guild leader, Flanrida, wasn’t spared the harrowing effect of watching his brave lads get tortured like that. With each howl they let forth, a knife seemed to stab right into his heart.

 

Having given his entire life to the guild, even a man like Flanrida who had the faintest of familial love in his bones, had long since counted these lads as his family members! Thus, he howled as well.

 

“Spiritmancers! Where are the spiritmancers!?” He anxiously yelled. “Get their soul bodies patched up quick, I want them back to full health!”

 

“We’re already working on it, guildmaster!” Helplessly answered a nearby spiritmancer amidst a veritable shower of sweat. “We immediately tried to repair their soul bodies the moment they returned to camp but because of the potent corrosiveness of that acid, the recovery is taking much longer than expected.”

 

“D*mnit, to think our opponent is even able to launch such a long range surprise attack. Looks like I’ve underestimated this tiny Abyss Dragon! Even if it’s just a C-ranked creature, it’s not an easy opponent!”

 

“Sigh, you’ve done your best, guildmaster. I doubt anyone would have expected this tiny abyss dragon to know a fourth-grade anti-army magic.” As he said that, the spiritmancer’s face turned pale and his hands grew cold.

 

In this world, every creature who could cast such a formidable spell was a renowned powerhouse in the region. Though such creatures still weren’t able to lord over a region, such experts could easily change the face of a battlefield with a mere spell.

 

More often than not, victory on the battlefield wasn’t decided by how strong a nation was or how vast its armies were. Instead, it was dependent on how many high-grade warriors it had and how skillful its tacticians were.

 

Strength and guile, no matter which world or era it was, they formed the backbone of any national discourse.
 

A tiny abyss dragon that was able to cast fourth-grade magic?! It was basically unheard of for a a C-ranked creature to cast such advanced magicks!

 

Truly a terrifying existence! It was almost a monster!

 

“No.” Flanrida solemnly declared after a pause. “That’s definitely not a fourth-grade spell.”

 

“Even with such power, it’s still not a fourth-grade spell?!” The spiritmancer couldn’t help but yelp with disbelief.

 

“Without a doubt, its power had long surpassed that of a third-grade Emperor-class magic and was close to a fourth-grade anti-army spell. However...it was merely close to one.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’m saying its power is not up to a fourth-grade’s standard. Furthermore, from the area and speed of its execution, it leans more towards that of a second-grade Pathseeker’s magic.” Flanrida continued spelling out his deduction.

 

“Thus, my guess is that our opponent, through some unknown method, cast a third-grade, no, perhaps even a second-grade magic that possessed a power approaching that of a fourth-grade’s.”

 

“You’re saying, our opponent possesses some form of acidic nature?” Asked the spiritmancer, a glint appearing within his eyes as if he understood something.

 

“That’s right, our foe might even be able to cast some corrosive spells.” Flanrida answered with a nod of his head. “There’s no mistaking it, our foe’s strength is that of a second-grade Pathseeker’s or a third-grade Emperor’s.”

 

“As expected of our seasoned guildmaster!” The spiritmancer threw Flanrida a worshipful glance as he exclaimed.

 

“No...even if you praise me like that, I won’t give you any benefits.” Flanrida answered with a shrug.

 

Sweeping his eyes across the battlefield, the yells of his comrades seemed to take on a physical form as they continuously rushed into his eyes.

 

“This...this is basically the work of a devil!” As he thought that, he tightly gripped on his fists.