Wizard Lord:I can Extract Anything

Orey's command halted many apprentices in their tracks. These wizard apprentices weren't merely peasants conscripted into service; they had received formal battlefield education at the academy. They were merely inexperienced.

However, some apprentices were completely panicked. Despite Orey's orders, they continued to flee blindly, ignoring the increasingly severe expression on Orey's face above them.

"Still running?"

Orey shouted in anger, pulling a wand from his magic pouch and pointing it at a fleeing apprentice.

Bang!

A flash of pale purple lightning shot from the wand's tip, striking the apprentice before they could erect a magical barrier, reducing them to charred remains.

"Anyone else who runs will meet the same fate!" Orey bellowed.

This display of force stopped the remaining apprentices, who began forming ranks under Orey's direction.

The white wizards employed different formations against various enemies.

In this situation, Orey chose the most conservative formation: Formation One.

He knew his apprentices couldn't afford heavy casualties.

Formation One excelled in defense.

It was a semicircle formation: the outermost layer focused on defense and melee combat, the second layer specialized in ranged attacks, the third layer provided support and reinforced the second layer's firepower, and the final layer was the command layer, where Orey stood.

The apprentices arranged themselves according to the formation they had learned, having been trained in their respective specialized roles at the academy.

Unfortunately, most apprentices weren't aligned with Orey, resulting in an odd formation.

The outermost layer, which should have been the most numerous, was instead sparsely populated. Conversely, the third layer, which should have been least populated, had the most people.

But Orey couldn't afford to worry about these details. Having a formation meant having organization, and organization was better than chaos.

"Advance north!" Orey commanded.

Meanwhile, on the north side of the resource point, the apprentices of Void Wizard Academy were wreaking havoc.

Anderson's black robe dripped with blood, and his longsword was stained with it, emitting a strange red glow.

"Haha, Black Tower Academy was right; these white wizards are as weak as chickens."

Anderson laughed, cleaving an incoming fireball in two.

The explosion's flames washed over him, but a faint red barrier absorbed all the fire elements.

He strode forward, charging at the spell-casting apprentice with a hellish aura that would terrify ordinary people.

But the spell-casting apprentice was no ordinary person. Clad in a white wizard robe, with a heroic face and white hair flowing in the battlefield's wind, he showed no panic as Anderson barreled toward him.

With a gesture, several ice spikes materialized around him, spinning as they shot toward Anderson.

Anderson neither dodged nor blocked, casually deflecting the ice spikes with his red sword.

Seeing his spells ineffective, the white-haired apprentice retreated and waved his staff, releasing a white mist from its tip to envelop Anderson.

"Ice Fog?"

Anderson frowned, recognizing the spell.

Ice Fog was a spell targeting those with strong physiques. Its icy particles infiltrated through skin and respiratory tracts, hindering movement and causing frostbite.

And this was the original version of Ice Fog.

Most modern wizard apprentices modify Ice Fog to extend its duration and increase its freezing damage.

This white-haired apprentice didn't seem ordinary, so his Ice Fog was likely modified.

Despite being a senior apprentice, Anderson dared not neglect his defenses.

"My modified Ice Fog has smaller ice particles, higher penetration, and greater damage," the white-haired apprentice's voice echoed from the fog.

"Perfect for dealing with brutes like you."

But inside the fog, Anderson's mouth twisted into a grim smile.

"A brute?"

His eyes suddenly glowed as he stared directly at the white-haired apprentice.

"Just because I fight in melee doesn't mean I'm a brute."

A psychic tendril shot from Anderson, piercing the white-haired apprentice's mental defenses.

Anderson wasn't an alchemy apprentice specializing in physical combat; he was a bona fide soul wizard apprentice. His melee combat was bolstered by a spell he learned, which happened to assist in close combat. It was also a ploy to deceive naive opponents like the white-haired apprentice.

Who said melee fighters were exclusively physical specialists?

As Anderson's psychic power rampaged, blood dripped from the white-haired apprentice's eyes, nose, and ears.

Inside his skull was a mess, his brain matter mixed with blood leaking from all orifices.

Dispatching the white-haired apprentice, Anderson emerged from the fog to stretch.

The Ice Fog's effects were indeed potent; after less than two seconds inside, his body had stiffened, and some areas showed black frostbite.

If the apprentice had more battle experience, Anderson might have found himself at a disadvantage.

Surveying the battlefield, Anderson noted that most white wizards with weak mental fortitude or cowardice were dead. The remaining white wizard apprentices had regained their composure and began gathering in small groups to resist the black wizards.

"They're adapting this quickly?"

Anderson frowned.

The white wizard apprentices' adaptability exceeded his expectations. Although Void Academy's assault had shattered their defenses, the lack of leadership among the black wizards prevented them from exploiting this advantage to encircle and annihilate the enemy.

The black wizards had indeed reaped significant rewards, but the white wizards' numbers far exceeded theirs.

"We need to break these white wizards quickly."

Anderson decided, but before he could act, a barrage of spells targeted him.

"Ten o'clock direction, distance 350, left ten, Fireball ready."

Orey's voice rang out across the battlefield, as a semicircle formation of white wizard apprentices advanced steadily. As they moved, their formation expanded.

"A white wizard corps?" Anderson dodged the spells, alarmed at the source.

Dozens of apprentices prepared spells, with several wizards closely watching Anderson.

Any counterattack would be met with immediate magical shields from these guardians, fulfilling their defensive duties.

"Fire!"

At Orey's command, ten fireballs flew at Anderson.

Anderson dodged frantically.

Though individually weak, the combined fireballs posed a lethal threat even to a senior apprentice like Anderson.

"Void Academy, regroup!"

Anderson shouted across the battlefield, finally acknowledging the white wizards' formidable power.

This spell bombardment was something few apprentices could withstand aside from top-tier ones like himself.

"Trying to run?"

Orey sneered, issuing more commands.

"Twelve o'clock direction, distance 370, left three, Lightning Strike."

"Two o'clock direction, distance 250, right four, Fireball barrage."

"One o'clock direction, distance 460, center four, Lightning Strike..."

With each of Orey's orders, spells swept the battlefield, claiming black wizards' lives.

These black wizard apprentices lacked Anderson's resilience. Faced with multiple spell attacks, their magical barriers were swiftly torn apart, and the torrent of spells incinerated or electrocuted them.

Some apprentices attempted to counterattack, but their spells were blocked by the magical shields in front of the white wizard formation, posing no threat to the spellcasters behind.

Now it was the black wizards' turn to face slaughter.

"Damn it, prepare to retreat!"

Anderson shouted angrily, hurling his longsword at the white wizard army.

The blood-red sword sliced through the air with a fierce whistle. White wizard apprentices prepared defenses, but before the sword struck the magical shield, it exploded into a blood mist, engulfing a group of white wizard apprentices.

The apprentices touched by the blood mist turned bloodthirsty, attacking indiscriminately.

"Madness Mist should delay them a bit."

Anderson glanced back at the white wizard army before disappearing into the forest.

...

On the south side of the resource point, Annihilation Academy faced similar challenges.

"Roar!"

A skeleton with soul fire in its eyes howled silently before being shattered by a spell.

The south side housed most senior apprentices. When the battle began, the command council quickly devised a strategy... albeit with lackluster results.

The absence of decisive leadership turned the south side's command into a schizophrenic mess, ordering apprentices here and there without clear direction.

Failing to implement wartime laws—namely, the desertion execution law—resulted in more apprentices fleeing than fighting back against the black wizards.

Despite these issues, senior apprentices and alchemical machinery managed to hold the south side.

Bartolas, known as the Mechanic, a senior Alchemy apprentice specializing in Alchemical Mechanics, was the only one who could rival Richard in terms of resources.

At Keeper Wizard Academy, Bartolas leveraged his alchemical skills to secure contracts with the wizarding market, supplying them with alchemical equipment.

This business made Bartolas incredibly wealthy.

For this war, Bartolas made the same decision as Richard—acquire vast amounts of alchemical materials. Additionally, Bartolas brought something Richard lacked.

On the wall, an alchemical mana cannon powered by magic stones emitted a blinding white light.

Fueled by magic stones, this alchemical cannon could unleash 150-power-level blasts twice per minute, lethal to all but the most powerful apprentices.

The cannon's presence forced many black wizards to fight cautiously, with part of their attention always on the alchemical cannon.

"Have they regrouped?"

Standing by the cannon, using spells to cool it, Bartolas asked anxiously.

"Sir, not yet," a reporting white wizard shook their head. "Those three skeletons are too fierce. Every time we form ranks, they disrupt us.

Our spells have little effect on them.

No one wants to form ranks now!"

"Don't want to!?" Bartolas cursed angrily. "Do they want to die? Individually, they're no match for a black wizard apprentice! Not forming ranks is suicide!"

He loaded more magic stones into the cannon, its deadly white light flaring again, sending black wizards scurrying for cover.

"Tell the other commanders to organize their formations quickly, no matter how small. We need formations!" Bartolas ordered, feeling exhausted.

At this moment, he almost wished for his old rival Orey. With Orey's capability and charisma, he could rally the apprentices for a counterattack.

But it was too late for that now.

On the north side, where Orey was, the apprentice numbers were fewer, yet they faced an assault from another black wizard academy.

If Orey could lead the apprentices to hold the line, that would be enough.

If he could hold firm, once the white wizard formation on this side gathered, the black wizards would be forced to retreat.

Boom, boom, boom...

A series of explosions erupted from the black wizards' flank, startling Bartolas, who quickly turned to look.

A well-organized white wizard army was attacking the black wizards' flank. Each spell claimed several black wizard apprentices.

"The other academies finally arrived?"

Bartolas thought, astonished.

This white wizard army appeared spirited and determined, a stark contrast to his own demoralized apprentices.

Naturally, Bartolas thought of the two remaining academies.

"Prepare for a counteroffensive! Reinforcements are here!"

Bartolas shouted, the alchemical mana cannon in his hands emitting deadly white light once more.

Seeing reinforcements, and such strong ones at that, the white wizard apprentices on the south side felt invigorated, rallying quickly.

"Form up, form up, reinforcements are here!"

Meanwhile, in the forest, Aldo saw this and immediately decided.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

The Annihilation Academy apprentices broke away, fleeing into the forest. The white wizard army did not pursue, allowing the black wizards to escape.

"Which academy's reinforcements could enter the battlefield so calmly?"

Bartolas wondered, praising the reinforcements in his heart. But as he approached, a familiar emblem caught his eye.

"Keeper... Academy's emblem?"

Bartolas stared at the army's command, recognizing a familiar figure watching him.

"Bartolas, is this the result of your command council?"

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