There is a negative view of magic for destruction in the Academy of Magic.

There are those who believe that spells such as fireball, lightning bolt, and blizzard should be restricted from use and learning, as they are abominable spells that unnecessarily destroy precious life and time-honored culture. There are not a few people in the Academy who agree with this, or who agree with it conditionally.

Many of those who conditionally support this idea are of the opinion that the use of weapons should be limited to self-defense, and there are many who support this idea.

However, the reality is that these spells are a symbol of the sorcerer's power and one of the important elements that support the sorcerer's social status, and modern sorcerers have yet to give up these spells.
In fact, many mage class mages are using these spells for purposes other than self-defense.

I am reserving my own opinion on this point.
As my goal was to become an adventurer in the first place, I would simply be troubled if I took the stance of denying the magic of destruction.
Narrowing down the choices of spells that can be used while fighting monsters day in and day out is an act that lowers your chances of survival, and I can't allow it.

However...
When I saw the results of the spells I had cast, I felt that the opinions of the naysayers were not all that foolish.

Before my eyes, a battlefield was unfolding.

Orcs gathered in the square in front of the cave.
They numbered more than thirty, almost forty in all.

Until a moment ago, they had ruled the place as if they owned it.
Even though it was a plaza, when more than thirty giant Orcs gathered, the feeling of oppression was quite strong.

But now... half of them were lying on the ground, folded up and becoming mute corpses.

They were all covered with white frost on their bodies, and at the same time their heads were crushed, their faces were crushed, and their arms and legs were broken.

The square still smoked white from the cold air that was flying around.
The ground on which the Orcs lay was also slightly frozen.
The grass on the ground was covered with frost, reminiscent of the scenery of an area of ice and snow that is about to melt.

'Shoot!

And so, the Orc horde that was on the verge of dissolving was showered with further pursuit.
Under Finola's command, the elves' bows and arrows (magic missiles) were unleashed in unison.
One after another, they pierced the survivors of the Orcs.

It was difficult for the short bows used by the elves to inflict fatal wounds on the Orcs, who were huge and boasted great vitality, even if one or two of them were pierced.
The spell of the magic missile is also more powerful than the arrow of the short bow, but it is still not powerful enough to kill with a single blow.

However, it would be a different story if you could turn them into a beehive with five, ten, or even three or four shots.

One by one, the orcs fell under the simultaneous fire of the elves.

The danger of the spell of destruction.
It's not the kind of thing you feel when you see the cruel deaths of hostile creatures and feel the pain in your heart.

Rather, I feel that it lies in the opposite - in the 'pleasure of crushing the hated enemy'.

It was the ice storm spell I cast that crushed most of the Orcs gathered in the plaza.

With the completion of my spell, a storm of ice blocks and frigid cold air rolled up from the center of the square, engulfing 70% of the Orcs gathered there, defeating 70% of those engulfed, and inflicting small and large wounds on the remaining victims.

The blizzard spell, which only a limited number of masters can use, is comparable to the fireball and lightning bolt spells in terms of destructive power alone, but has the advantage of being able to attack a wider area than the fireball.
With the Fireball spell, it would have been good if it could have engulfed a third of the gathered Orcs, but by using the Ice Storm spell, it had succeeded in engulfing twice that many - in other words, most of the Orcs present - and destroying them all at once.

Seeing the scene, I felt not pain, but a surge of joy.
The pleasure of destroying, crushing, and annihilating a hated enemy.

The more powerful the enemy, the greater the catharsis.
The guilt of killing a creature that resembles a human being dissipates when one believes that the enemy is an evil that must be destroyed.

If such pleasures were more widely used in the name of 'justice', human reason would be easily dissolved.
The joy of destruction at war.
It felt scary and dangerous to me.

But it was only for a moment.
The battle was still going on, and this was not the time to be thinking about the state of human culture, but rather the time to be really careful.

'Keep your guard up! There are still more than ten enemies left! Keep firing as hard as you can until you kill the last one!

Finola sent out a message to the troops.
I cheered in my mind as I prepared the next spell.

Crushing the majority of the enemy in one fell swoop will inevitably make them relax.
However, his success was due to the fact that he had launched the first attack under the maximum conditions, and not to the fact that the difference in strength between them was immense.
If even a few Orcs reach the Elves' firing squad and start a melee, there is no telling how many Elves will fall prey to their clubs and monstrous strength, so we should not let our guard down just because things are going well.

And it's the same for me.
As a sorcerer, if I get caught up in melee combat, I'm a goner.

But that's just for our own reasons, there's no way the enemy would let me off the hook for being the main culprit in creating this situation.

''Glooooooooooooooooo!

One of the surviving Orcs shouted angrily and came towards me.

It was the commander of the Orc pack, Orclord.
He was a huge Orc, about a head taller than the average Orc, but with a remarkably toned form.

The Orclord was caught in the ice storm that I had unleashed, and one of his arms seemed to have been broken by the direct hit of the ice block, and his body was also covered in white frost, but he did not seem to have run out of vitality.

The distance between us was less than twenty meters.
The speed of the orc lord was astonishing, and it was closing in on me at a rapid pace.
Even if I tried to escape with my legs, he would catch up with me and easily break my body with a single blow.

Besides, there is no way that I will be able to cast the next spell in time.
Looking at these factors alone, all is not well.

But I'm not so foolish as to not take action if I knew that would happen.

You're here. But I'm your opponent.'

The one who stepped out from my side and stood in front of the path of the Oaklord was my childhood friend, a genius swordsman with short-cut silver hair.