Here and there things still moved. Commander or Ruler-level creatures, caked with white grit, withered and skins cracked and dry, the air empty of Water Mana, barely able to see, finding it difficult to breathe.

There was nothing green left behind, it was as dry and empty as a salt brine desert. Here and there were little bumps and clusters of shriveled scales attached to withered corpses, or bones jutting out here and there, but all of those were falling apart in the stiff wind and blowing after the rest of the whiteness.

“Soldiers of Ireland, if you want to kill them, now is the time,” I Said, jolting the gaping Irishfolk below out of their stupors as they saw the power of a bunch of Salt Seeds at work.

My people were occupied pushing the Sandfall Saltflower out over the miles and miles of green land, and utterly reducing the invading Aquatics to mounds of salt and dirt as it did so. We couldn’t go after any of the survivors.

The Sages, half-Sages, and Archmages looked at me, I made a ‘What are you waiting for?’ gesture in reply, and with warcries and flaring magic of their own, they dove in all directions on the attack, while the Aquatic survivors stumbled and withdrew, barely able to see that around them absolutely none of their once-massive horde still lived.

I looked into the distance, where our team had formed a flying wedge with a Wind Wall in front of it to send the Saltsand off to the sides. The fleeing Aquatics weren’t going to make it to the team before the howling Saltstorm reached them.

Sama was already up on the enemy. I saw her get forty feet up into the face of a Baron Finman, rough skin withered and cracked and caked with salt. Tremble opened up its gills with two slashes before jumping away. Swirling salt gathered on the open wounds, and the Finman stumbled and fell in agony as its bright blood withered black and then white, more bright crystals pouring into its lungs and withering it away from the inside.

The Fire, Light, and Lightning of the irate Irish mages coming in to finish the job weren’t having nearly as much problem, swarming out to deal with the survivors... and being very careful not to use any Water Mana at all. Turn the Sky into the Sea had totally failed, and with its cessation the schools of predatory Fish had come crashing down, flopping helplessly on the ground until the saltwave blew over them and ate them away.

The smartest ones turned and fled as fast as they could for the sea, feeling the magic unraveling around and behind them, and the salt pursued them with the speed of a blowing hurricane.

------

Our Marines joined in the slaughter of the Commanders and Rulers who couldn’t get away as soon as the Saltflower wave passed them, Beasts and their Riders teaming up to take them down with maximum speed and efficiency, showing no mercy.

The Aquatics the furthest away fled the farthest, and some actually managed to get away before the Salt and the winds faded away, and the great spread of the Saltflower stopped at a twenty-mile radius.

There were still thousands of survivors, scattered over that immense area, but they no longer outnumbered the Irish at all, and even Emperor Balor realized that this area of the fighting was over.

To reach us, they’d have to advance over twenty miles of salt... or, they would have, as once we released the spell, that glittering expanse of whiteness became an instant waist-high ocean of heavy, sparkling unwhite mists, as the Vivus woven into the magic did its thing.

It was a lot of Soul Crystals not to get, but nobody was complaining. The Summoned Salt became something else entirely, sinking into ground now absolutely devoid of any sign of the invaders and any ‘little surprises’ they had left behind.

Red led the Fire Phoenix mages into the area to heal up the wounded, while Big John took over the job of transporting all the meat we’d harvested into the stores of Castle Leap to help feed the survivors there.

Tox, however, grabbed every single Plant and Earth mage that wasn’t in combat, and most of those that were, and commenced a rapid seeding of the entire area once he told them that by tomorrow morning, this entire area was going to explode in a riot of green growth as the life energy and magic of the dead Aquatics Fed the Land here... which meant fields of tubers, vegetables, and grain needed to get in the ground now, with maximum speed to help offset the need for food.

The Marines and Undead Hunters harried the surviving Commanders and Rulers back towards the sea, turning a frantic retreat from a killing spell into a panicked one, especially when the Archmages blew smaller Sandfall Saltflowers out of the ground and sent them barreling over any numbers of Aquatics in the way, slaughtering anything under the Commander-level instantly, nearly crippling the Commanders, and hampering the Rulers.

I went with the Sages and half-Sages harrying the Fomor.

The fallen corpses of six of the twisted Titans of the Sea would be claimed and carved up for their own resources, their astonished expressions frozen forever as their wounds still pulsed and sizzled with the residual energies of their own king’s baleful Eye. They were withered and cracked, but still viable, and butcher teams were already coming out to retrieve the corpses and bring them back to be carved up.

Completely unsurprisingly, the Irish pursuers didn’t dare get that far from me.

The two additional Fomorians who had been wounded by the Reflected Gaze of their King couldn’t outrun us, and paid for it when the Sages caught up to them. Their desperate defenses smashed into Spellflares, burning themselves with feedback and preventing them from doing any damage as Archmagicks tore at their arms and disabled their ability to use their Weapons.

As we were taking down the second one, King Balor tried another burst of his Eye, aiming for me after correctly deducing who had reflected his first beam. Instead of deflecting the Beam to strike down the Fomorian we were already fighting, I sent it after a lumbering, swollen-bellied Fomorian lurching quickly away while ostensibly invisible. The Beams punched completely through his back and out his massive hanging belly, drawing a bellow of pain and shock as he stumbled, fell while his eyes popped out, and unclean flames billowing from within his corpse, died badly.

Five miles away, the burning orb of the Fomorian King glared at me, a wave of crushing Psychic power reaching out to slam into us and try to worm into our heads, play with our hatreds and doubts, turn us on one another, or even ourselves...

Silver Magic tore the spell to threads, arced across the miles back to him, and exploded around his skull. He bellowed, clutching at his head, and only the fact he had three arms kept his barbed spear, a hundred feet tall and as deadly as he was, in his grip.

I didn’t advance on him as the Sages wore down and toppled the second Fomorian behind me, avoiding the desperate hacking of its Axe and exploiting the massive cutting burn across its chest that had torn through its scales and bone beneath.

It took only a couple more minutes before the Fomorian was down, impaled by a massive Sword of Light taller than it was, its chest exploding with raging flames eating it from the inside out. It left three new gouges a quarter-mile long and a hundred feet deep in the land about it from desperate strikes that had missed their targets.

The Fire-Tongued Sage, Sage O’Reilly, famous for some personal spells that let him spew something like dragonfire about him, flew up next to me, leading the pack of Irish Casters after being certain the Fomorian was dead. “What are ye looking at, lass?” he asked warily, staring into the distance in the direction I was.

I waved up a Holo of what I was actually seeing, and the Irish Casters all sucked in their breaths when they could suddenly see the forms of a score more Fomorians scattered across the landscape. Several of them, the smaller ones, were heading for the sea, but the larger ones had paused to regard us.

They could also see the huge and monstrously bulky, horned and one-eyed form of King Balor, the Fomorian Emperor, standing there in the distance, glaring at us.

There were plenty of Aquatics in the area, or there had been, as they were fleeing with all speed, not wanting to get anywhere near Sages and Fomorians fighting.

“They haven’t seen me fight, only Reflect the Gaze of their King and his spells. Naturally they think I’m a wuss in personal combat, and they are debating charging us to bring this to a close fight.”

“Twenty-one Fomorians. There’s not been that many seen in a thousand years, and that’s after nine hae died,” murmured a black-haired Sage, the Black Raven Sage by his attire and colors. “Ye’ve some rare and powerful magic, lass, but can ye take on an Emperor?” the Sage asked softly.

“I don’t have to take him on, Elder. I have to shut him down while you all kill his minions. They won’t flee without his order. Fighting him is a waste of time, but killing off his servants?”

The Fomor in the distance began to raise their weapons all together.

“Oh, isn’t this special. Simultaneous bladewind attacks. Stay together, this should be fun.” Noble gleamed silver, Imperial Tokens burned with their own power as I wove the modified Spellflare around me, while nervous Irish mages had to focus to not instinctively dodge what was coming their way.

Crude Swords hacked down, Spears thrust, Axes chopped, and Maces crushed. The air swirled and tore as blows of momentous power ripped through the earth and sky and headed our way, backed by literal mountains of physical power.

Well-coordinated, too. The multiple attacks came in from multiple vectors and sealed off any attempt to flee, even disrupting space enough to stop any sudden Blinking. The terrible crushing power swept in upon us, capable of reducing mountains to dust, leaving valleys riven into the land and through everything in their path as they converged on us...

They hit the Sage-tier Spellflare, and it went off.

That wasn’t physical power. Pure strength couldn’t do that sort of shit. It was just more magic enhancing physical blows, and magic could be Flared.

The atmosphere around us popped silver, eye-wateringly bright. The howling winds went shockingly and abruptly silent, and the braced and grimacing Irish opened their eyes and gawked at the boiling silvery wisps all around them.

“Through the Portal! Kill it!” I ordered them, Reynard diving through the Hole in space he opened up. The shocked Irish mages followed almost automatically.

We were almost directly on top of one of the weaker Fomorians on the northern flank. It was reeling from a massive crushing impact to its shoulder and chest, as if it had been struck a mighty blow by the spiked club it was wielding in its triple-sized right arm, mismatched legs fighting for balance at the blow.

They looked around and found that every single Fomorian out there was stumbling and lurching the same way, some having actually been knocked off their feet. Slices of silver, holes of silver, craters of silver, all burning bright, were visible upon each and every one of them.

As if their own blows had been returned to them to enjoy...

With wild cries, magic was drawn up against the Fomorian below them, the first blasts of fire exploding down over it to latch onto rubbery skin alternately scaled or festooned with waving tentacles, the third eye of the Fomorian rolling up at them in shock at finding them so close so suddenly.

I Sage-powered a maxed-out flight of Greater Shards, and let fly.