The Other World's Wizard Does Not Chant Novels & Stories

That raged Kye and he dug his heels into the sides of his horse, sending the beast charging at the wizard. “No, Kye!” Syrana yelled out to stop him but it was no use. The wizard smiled and extended his staff to the Khione man that raced toward him. He spoke a line of a strange language and with a smirk, said. “Die.” The ground broke open beneath the horse’s feet, trapping the animal, Kye stumbled but managed to remain atop the horse. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the wizard who was grinning at him.

She moved a bit, her head still visible to me. “Unless you want to lose part of your hair, step back,” I heard her steps go two paces backward. “More…” She stepped three more paces. “A little bit more…” She stepped back seven paces. “One more…” She did as instructed. “Good girl,” I said. Holding my dominant hand out and my palm facing upwards, I conjured flames from thin air. Then, thrusting my hand forward as if unleashing the fire, I chanted: "Ignis eximius, argentum funditus! Vesta's fury, unleash thy might! Let flames that melt the silver's heart, burn bright and true, a wizard's art!"

"The key lies within your unity, champions of time. Only by harmonizing your echoes and embracing your shared destiny can you unveil the hidden truths and safeguard The Enchanted Realm." As the heroes absorbed the Spirit Seer's wisdom, a surge of determination surged within them. They would face the Time Weaver once more, armed not only with the strength of their individual echoes but the unbreakable bond that united them.

"They broke the rules. T h o s e... w i z a r d s... h a s... g i v e n... s a c r i f i c e... o f... a n... i n n o c e n t... a n d... g a v e... h i m... t h e... i m m o r t a l i t y... s p e l l. He is an immortal now and you can think what powers he has. He is going to destroy this world."

The referee bellowed, the words that had been suppressed for so long finally coming out, causing the referee to let out a huge sigh of relief! "Quickly chant, in order to reward your bravery I'll give you time "In the common sense of people throughout the continent girls generally serve as magicians or summoners or alchemists ---- anyway, not a very hot blooded profession, let alone in front of oneself is such a weak girl? Even Char couldn't help but make such a judgment.

It was a twisted, hollow laugh that bounced around the walls of my skull like a curse. He raised my hand - his hand - to stare at the heart. "Not the wolf after all," he muttered, giddy and mocking. "But the power… it’s still sweet. I suppose it was worth something." Then he began to chant. I felt the magic stir in my bones, an ancient, foul energy trying to claw its way from the underworld. The words were guttural, wrong. It felt like the world itself flinched. But then…nothing happened. The ritual failed.

They were meant to honor the soul, to send it into the next world with respect. I closed my eyes and drew a steady breath, my hands trembling as I reached into the deep well of magic within me. The power surged through me, warm and familiar, as I began the chant. The words were old—older than the pack, older than the curse that had shaped my life. They were meant to guide the spirit, to send it to rest. But as I began to speak, the power inside me didn’t respond the way I had expected. It was hesitant, like it was testing me, pushing back against the weight of what I was doing. My body trembled, my voice faltering as the energy around us grew heavier.

I tapped his cheeks, "Please open your eyes and tell me what to do? Why did you have to confront him?" "Your blood" he rasped and I was confused, "my blood?" "I was bitten by him, and a werewolf fang on a wizard is fatal, only the blood of a witch or wizard can neutralize its poison" "Alright, just tell me what to do" "Take a chalk, draw a circle and place me within it, then walk around the circle seven times chanting the karachika mantra, then cut yourself and let the blood drop on the injury"

Mia's Pov I stood alone in the heart of the woods, my voice echoing through the trees as I chanted the spell over and over again. Each repetition felt like a desperate plea, but the magic refused to respond. Frustration gnawed at me as I clutched the book of enchantments, flipping through its pages to ensure I hadn’t missed a single detail. The words were right, the movements were precise—so why the hell wasn’t it working?

Some howled, and the rest bolted into the trees, newly reborn. But Wayne? He just stood there, now shaking beneath the moon’s judgment. The drums beat louder. The sigils sparked. But inside him… nothing happened. No shift took place in his name, no claws sharpened to draw lines on the ground, and no howl burned in his throat. There was just an unbearable silence. The wizard tried again just for him. A second chant and a harsher rite. Sacred herbs burned for the sake of Wayne, their smoke polluting the air around him