Tale of a Hedonistic wizard-Chapter 459: Council of witches

"You’ve learned some interesting tricks for one so young," Elsbeth observed, circling like a predator. "Your father will be pleased."

"Stop mentioning him," Jaegar growled, genuine anger colouring his voice. "I am not his weapon to wield."

"Oh, but you are," she replied. "A blade forged in chaos, waiting to be unsheathed."

Elsbeth and Shaewyra exchanged a glance, some unspoken communication passing between them. Then they both attacked simultaneously—Elsbeth unleashing a torrent of shadow magic while Shaewyra’s tattoos formed into spectral beasts that leapt toward Jaegar from all directions.

Jaegar knew he couldn’t block both attacks. Instead, he tapped into a deeper well of power—the chaotic energy that had always lurked within him, carefully controlled and channelled through years of rigorous training.

His eyes began to glow with an inner light as he brought his hands together above his head. Between his palms, a sphere of pure, unfiltered magical energy formed—not the disciplined spells of the Academy, but raw power that crackled and sparked with untamed potential.

"Enough!" he shouted and brought the sphere down against the cobblestones.

The resulting explosion was catastrophic. A wave of pure arcane force erupted outward, shattering his protective dome and sending both Elsbeth and Shaewyra flying backwards. The abandoned stalls splintered into thousands of fragments. Windows in nearby buildings shattered. The very air seemed to ignite for a brief, terrible moment.

When the dust began to settle, Jaegar remained standing at the epicentre of the destruction, though barely. Blood trickled from his nose, and his hands trembled from the exertion of channelling so much raw power. The marketplace was now a crater of broken stone and splintered wood.

Elsbeth pulled herself from the rubble, her perfect features marred by a look of genuine surprise. "He’s stronger than we were told," she said to Shaewyra, who was struggling to his feet nearby.

"The chaos in him runs deeper," the Dark Arcanist agreed, his voice now missing several of its harmonics. Some of his tattoos had faded, the magic within them expended by the blast.

Before either could make another move, a new presence made itself known.

The air at the edge of the ruined marketplace shimmered, and Angelina stepped through what appeared to be a tear in reality. Her face was a mask of cold fury, her hands already wreathed in arcane fire. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Step away from my grandson," she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of decades of power and authority.

From another street, Eradarin appeared, his staff glowing with barely contained energy. Ironshade was at his side, his massive greatsword drawn and gleaming with enchantments of its own.

Elsbeth’s expression shifted from surprise to calculation. "The great Angelina," she said, offering a mocking bow. "How the mighty have fallen. We can sense your weakness, old woman."

"Strong enough to deal with the likes of you," Angelina replied, taking a step forward.

Jaegar’s knees finally buckled. Angelina rushed forward, catching him before he could collapse entirely.

"Foolish boy," she murmured, but her tone was more worried than angry. "Taking on both of them alone."

"I didn’t have much choice," Jaegar replied weakly.

Eradarin approached his weathered face grave. "The explosion will draw attention. We should not linger."

"Too late," Ironshade growled, nodding toward the far end of the ruined marketplace.

-

A few minutes before, right when Jaegar made an explosive signal.

Veronica and Ewen, who were on their way towards the spire, suddenly stopped in their tracks. They saw the fiery explosion in the night sky.

Following the explosion, a bell rang in the spire.

Ewen still feeling something, decided to go towards the explosion.

Veronica also followed him.

They moved through the streets.

"There!" Ewen exclaimed as a pillar of light momentarily illuminated the evening sky. "What’s happening there?"

Veronica looked confused, adjusting their course toward the disturbance. "Whatever that is, it’s definitely not a simple street fight."

They raced through the streets. As they rounded a corner, they found themselves at the edge of what had once been a marketplace but was now a scene of devastation.

And there, at the centre of the destruction, stood Jaegar, supported by an elderly woman. Veronica instantly recognized her.

"Reverend Angelina," she whispered, instinctively taking a step back. Even weakened, the legendary witch was not to be confronted lightly.

Ewen, however, seemed almost delighted by the development. "This is perfect," he said, his voice low with anticipation.

Veronica shot him a warning glance. "What are you talking about? What’s happening here?"

They saw two other figures, dressed in black: Night Witch and Dark Arcanist.

And of course, they were aware of their identities.

"Heavens must be watching today," Ewen said, delighted to see two most wanted criminals along with the current most important man, Jaegar.

Veronica, though she watched with wary eyes, could tell that Jaegar was hurt, and judging by the scene before them, he must have fought them alone.

Ewen shouted, "Jaegar, we meet again."

Jaegar saw Veronica and Ewen, equally surprised as them, to see them here in this city, now of all times.

Elsbeth frowned, "Now what’s this, ministry dogs?" She said, noticing the symbol on their attires.

While they were talking, a sudden shift in the air signalled the arrival of the women from the Spire. Their presence carried an undeniable weight, a silent yet potent declaration of their authority.

Among them stood Mirabel, Evanore, and Yasmine, their robes flowing with the energy that pulsed through their very beings. They were not alone—several other witches had accompanied them, each one poised and ready, their eyes sharp with purpose. They had come the moment they were alerted, wasting no time.

Yet what truly made the atmosphere tense was the presence of three councilwomen. Their involvement alone elevated the matter beyond a simple conflict—it had become a matter of power, law, and consequence.

Now, with the forces of the Spire assembled and the most influential figures gathered, the situation had reached a boiling point. All the powers had converged here. What would come next was no longer a mere exchange of words—it would determine the course of what followed.