The truth was, this damned Leon Merlin was an Auckland mage. If it came down to a fight, fine—but if it came to murder, both the Black Tower and Cloudspire Tower would show up instantly and kill him right here in Stormhold Fortress.
Hubert grinned, gripping Slaughter in both hands. His arms seemed to swell with raw power, and he charged forward without dodging, swinging the warhammer in a brutal arc.
"Leon Merlin, don’t bother denying it. I say you’re the thief. Hand it over now, or don’t blame me for what happens next."
A series of sharp metallic crashes rang out. The four strongest battlemages, with the highest only at Second-Rank Title Archmage, were sent flying like cannonballs, trailing afterimages as they shot out of the camp.
Daryl wore heavy armor covered in blue patterns, and the Thunderbolt Spear in his hand crackled with electricity. Blinding arcs of lightning snaked along the shaft, darting and twisting like living thunder serpents.
Hardly anyone went there. The Auckland mages couldn’t last long against the poison mist. If they went, no one would come to help Leon Merlin.
Once there, Leon Merlin would be isolated, with no one around to interfere. Daryl could finally cut loose and kill this damned mage.
Leon’s expression remained calm as flames erupted across his body. Endless fire gathered and fused in an instant, transforming him into a blazing Fire Elemental Avatar.
Beneath Leon’s feet, waves of fire flowed across the ground, spreading outward. On the surface of his Fire Elemental Avatar, obscure runic patterns began to emerge, shimmering with arcane energy.
Leon closed the Spellbook of Ages, met Daryl's gaze, and let out a cold laugh.
"What a coincidence. Was this all planned?"
Daryl kept his face tight and expressionless as he spoke.
Hmph, even if he’s a bit special, it doesn’t change the fact—I’m already a Ninth-Rank Title Archmage. Among mages below the Sky Rank, only someone like Heron of the Black Tower can barely fight me to a draw. No other Auckland mage stands a chance.
That damned Leon Merlin is said to be a newly promoted Title Archmage. So what if he’s stronger than most Auckland mages? Caucasus Battlemages are the strongest—Auckland mages are nothing but fragile chickens.
Leon glanced at Daryl with disdain.
"Daryl, you're the commander of the Caucasus Battlemages. Next time you try to frame someone, could you at least use your brain? Even the dumbest Swinebeast is smarter than you lot.
You kicked down our camp gate and started shouting that you saw the thief. Do you realize that the whole Stormhold Fortress now thinks the Caucasus Battlemages are idiots?
Hearing about it a hundred times is nothing compared to seeing it once. Now everyone’s witnessed it—such a basic frame job, done so poorly that even a three-year-old child—no, even a Swinebeast could see through it. Do you really think you can fool anyone?"
"Leon Merlin, as long as you fight me in Viperfog Valley, I’ll forget everything that happened before."
Daryl was furious, but he knew there was no way to start a fight here, and no way to kill this Leon Merlin.
The truth was, this damned Matthew Merlin was an Auckland mage. If it came down to a fight, fine—but if it came to murder, both the Black Tower and Cloudspire Tower would show up instantly and kill him right here in Stormhold Fortress.
No one would dare object. A Caucasus Battlemage barging into another’s camp to kill, then being slain on the spot by the Auckland mages who arrived—case closed.
"Matthew Merlin, don’t bother denying it. I say you’re the thief. Hand it over now, or don’t blame me for what happens next."
Blazeguard Shield!
Stormhold Fortress was off-limits for a fight. He couldn’t kill Matthew Merlin here. And if Seer Droy realized he’d left camp, he’d come looking immediately. Too many eyes here. Viperfog Valley would be better.
Hardly anyone went there. The Auckland mages couldn’t last long against the poison mist. If they went, no one would come to help Matthew Merlin.
Once there, Matthew Merlin would be isolated, with no one around to interfere. Daryl could finally cut loose and kill this damned mage.
Once Matthew Merlin was dead, Seer Droy would be too late. Dead men hold no value, no matter what secrets they carry.
Leon’s brow furrowed. Daryl was like a cockroach—if he wasn’t annoying you, he was stinking up the place. He hadn’t gone after Daryl before because Seer Droy intervened. Now, Daryl had the nerve to come looking for trouble first.
With Seer Droy absent, this fool must have come on his own.
Actually, it was perfect. With Droy out of the way, it was the ideal chance to get rid of this nuisance.
Stormhold Fortress was out of the question. The Caucasus Battlemages and Auckland forces were supposed to be allies, but old grudges ran deep. If Leon killed Daryl in front of everyone, it would give the Caucasus Battlemages an excuse to retaliate—and if they demanded the location of the Ancient Ruins, it could draw even more trouble.
Viperfog Valley—yes, that was the only place nearby no one would dare enter. There, Leon could fight without restraint. Last time, he’d used Daryl to test his Lava Avatar; it worked well, but its true power was still restricted.
This time, he’d use the opportunity to experiment with something else—and with Droy absent, he could finally finish off this annoying pest.
If Droy found out later, what could he do? Leon hadn’t even taken revenge on Daryl yet, and now Daryl was asking for trouble. If he died, he had only himself to blame.
Would Droy and the Caucasus Battlemages really go to war with Leon over Daryl’s corpse?
Both Daryl and Leon thought of Viperfog Valley at the same time. Only there could they fight without interference.
Daryl gritted his teeth, glaring at Leon.
"Matthew Merlin, as long as you fight me in Viperfog Valley, I’ll forget everything that happened before."
Leon couldn’t help but laugh. Clearly, this guy had an agenda of his own.