Chapter 54.5- Doom Days

His choice of spells was as varied as his choice of shields had been. Bludgeoners, cutters, piercers, blasters, stunners, disarmers, it didn’t matter. If it could be used to incapacitate his opponent, he sent it. And the speed at which he cast the spells never wavered.

If most people were the equivalent of pistols, the average professional duelist was an assault rifle. This guy? He was a fucking gatling gun.The shields had been interesting as a strategic tool and made it so I noted his intellect as impressive, but they were nothing compared to what he did now. He sent spells— so many and so quickly that he had his opponent dancing about the arena trying to avoid them. The American tried hunkering behind a shield spell. In four hits— each aimed the exact same spot in the shield— the shield fell and the man behind it had to five two the ground for the second time in as many minutes to avoid the next spell sent his way.

When the American rose, the ground beneath them did with him, rising into a strong wall that bore two spells before his opponent switched to a blasting curse that hit the wall with such force that it sent the American huddled behind it flying. It was just his luck that he managed to land on another platform. He rolled on the floor with the fall, rising winded rather than out of it. With the distance between them stretched, the speed at which the Spaniard’s spells reached his opponent reduced, but their intensity and tenacity did not fade or waver.

That was why it took the better part of three minutes for me to notice. It was a spell chain. That was why the movements were perfect. That was why he could cast like a gatling gun probably. Each spell’s wand movement led top the next as he cast silently. Clearly the only bottleneck on how many spells he could end so quickly was how quickly he could call upon the relevant intention. It was impressive for not just those reasons, as well. It was impressive because a standard spell-chain ranged between about five to seven spells. His had twenty-seven. Flitwick said it was stupid to try more than six.

Even more than that, almost everyone agreed there was little utility worth the tradeoffs. Down there was some fucking utility worth the tradeoffs. He was proof that it was not impossible to memorize and apply even in a fast-paced duel like this one. He was also proof that one could manifest the requisite intents to cast the spells quickly enough to make the spell chain worth its salt. And then the last counterargument I had read— the fact that a spell chain like that would be clunky and inadaptible was being thoroughly disproved. Every attempt his opponent made to turn the tide of the fight was smacked aside with contemptuous ease. The American lifted a mighty wave that threatened to wash the Spaniard off. The larger duelist cut a path through the wave and allowed the rest of it to fall around him before continuing his spell chain once more from right where he had stopped like there had been no interruption.

It was only a matter of time, and time ran its course. The American twisted his ankle as he scrambled from another set of spells. A bludgeoner caught him in the foot, and then there was a piercer to the gut. The stunner to the head, the coup de grace, could not have come any sooner.