Chapter 855: Mercy in Battle
In the future, there was a Sky Rank mage who specialized in water magic. Whenever he cast a spell, it was as if the sky itself split open. A monstrous wave—towering thousands of meters—would crash down and obliterate everything within a dozen kilometers.
Leon coldly watched as the heavy armor was utterly destroyed. Daryl, his flesh torn and bleeding, knelt on the ground, drenched in blood, as Leon raised the Doombringer Staff once more.
Of course, he would never tell Daryl that this spell was the culmination of his efforts over the past weeks.
Who could fight in Viperfog Valley? Aside from the Caucasus Battlemages, only someone immune to the poisonous mist—the Merlin mage...
Every droplet struck the same spot. Every droplet fell at the exact same speed and angle—each one meticulously calculated.
Even the force of each droplet, the intervals and frequency between them, were absolutely identical.
Within that minuscule force lay profound mysteries; it was these intricate mysteries that constituted true power.
Of all the elemental avatars, the Water Elemental is the most overlooked. Among the four major elements—earth, fire, water, and wind—water’s status has long been replaced by frost.
Daryl was a Ninth-Rank Title Archmage-level Caucasus Battlemage. Beneath Sky Rank, someone might defeat him, but killing him? That was supposed to be impossible...
That’s impossible...
In the future, there was a Sky Rank mage who specialized in water magic. Every time he cast a spell, it was as if the sky tore open—a colossal wave, stretching thousands of meters high, would crash down and obliterate everything within dozens of kilometers.
During planar conquests, his spellcasting was even restricted, because if he unleashed his power, the entire plane would be reduced to ruins in less than half a month...
Daryl’s face was blank with shock. He couldn’t understand how this happened—his prized heavy armor had been smashed to fragments. His powerful body was a bloody mess. Every breath burned with pain. He could hear blood roiling in his lungs, as if endless flames were raging inside him.
But such spells were all at least eighth-tier and above. Beneath Sky Rank, there were no truly powerful water spells...
[Irrelevant system message skipped]
Torrent Line!
Every droplet contained terrifying power; each impact was equivalent to a first- or second-tier spell.
The spacing between each droplet was meticulously calculated—the force, angle, and frequency, all perfectly identical.
In just one second, this stream of water could strike hundreds, even thousands of times!
The simplest lesson of water wearing away stone—once you grasp even a hint of the mystery within, the spell you create can be terrifyingly powerful. Leon himself was stunned by its might.
Now, Daryl had become the first test subject of this spell...
He was the unyielding rock, shattered by the weakest of droplets.
Daryl’s face was blank with shock. He couldn’t understand how this happened—his prized heavy armor was reduced to fragments, his powerful body left a bloody mess. Every breath burned with pain, blood roiling in his lungs, as if endless flames were raging within.
Leon’s face was cold and expressionless as he raised the Doombringer Staff again...
Meanwhile, Droy had finished reporting recent events to the King of the Caucasus. When he came out, he found Daryl was nowhere to be seen...
Droy’s expression changed slightly, and he hurried out of the tent.
"Where is Commander Daryl?"
Droy, growing anxious, grabbed the guard at the door by the collar and asked urgently.
The guard’s face went pale. It was the first time he’d seen Droy so restless, nearly on the verge of rage. He instantly realized something serious had happened.
"The Commander went... went out alone..."
Droy’s face immediately darkened, his eyes practically blazing.
Damn idiot—Daryl, that absolute fool, went out again. Doesn’t he understand what Leon Merlin means to our Caucasus Battlemages?
He actually forgot my previous order. Does he think Leon Merlin is so easy to kill?
From the last battle, didn’t that idiot see that Leon Merlin’s strength absolutely rivals a powerful Ninth-Rank Title Archmage?
Besides, judging by the Auckland mages’ temperament, they never fight at full strength. Leon Merlin’s mana is vast and steady, his rank can’t be measured by normal Title Archmage standards, and he even carries a faint trace of arcane mystery.
That aura is only found on top-tier Title Archmages—like Heron of the Black Tower or the Star Sage of Cloudspire Tower. Even if Leon Merlin isn’t quite their equal, he’s not far off.
And watching Leon Merlin fight, his knowledge is not just profound; his reserve of runes is several times greater than that of ordinary Title Archmages, and his mana is unfathomable.
With that kind of power, how could he be so easily defeated?
That idiot Daryl—has he forgotten his fight with Heron? Doesn’t he know that Auckland mages are best at hiding their true strength?
Damn idiot—doesn’t he know that defeating Leon Merlin is one thing, but killing him is nearly impossible? This time, he’s really provoked Leon Merlin.
If King Cristo finds out about this, who knows how furious he’ll be. Is that fool Daryl trying to face Cristo’s wrath?
The King just ordered us to get information from Leon Merlin at any cost, and this guy goes and does this.
From our last encounter, isn’t it obvious? Forcing Leon Merlin to reveal those secrets is almost impossible.
Is he planning to start a war with Auckland? Damn fool—even if we did, it wouldn’t guarantee Leon Merlin would say anything.
[Irrelevant system message skipped]
It took me so much effort to ease relations with Leon Merlin—only then did he share some useful information. If I kept making friendly overtures, I could always get him to talk.
Now look what happened—everything I worked for is ruined...
Droy, anxious, rushed out of the camp and headed straight for Stormhold Fortress, hoping to stop that idiot Daryl before he did something reckless.
Halfway there, Droy suddenly stopped, gazing into the distance at Viperfog Valley and Stormhold Fortress.
No, that's not right. Daryl might be a bit of a fool, but he's not completely brainless. In Stormhold Fortress, you can't just go all out in a fight. If he goes too far, those mages from Auckland definitely won't just stand by and watch—they might even seize the chance to get rid of that idiot Daryl.
Which means the only place left where no one would interfere is Viperfog Valley. If a fight breaks out, it’ll be in Viperfog Valley...
If it’s not in Viperfog Valley, then they haven’t fought yet. Right, I should head there first...
Droy charged into Viperfog Valley, wind and fire at his heels. Instantly, he felt the distant, surging waves of magical power. The moment he sensed it, his face changed dramatically. Even a novice mage would know—magic boiling like this meant two powerful beings were locked in battle.
Who could fight in Viperfog Valley? Aside from the Caucasus battle mages, only someone immune to the poisonous mist—the Merlin mage...
With that thought, Droy couldn’t hold back anymore. His own powerful magic erupted, lightning snaking around him, and like a drawn arrow, he shot toward the depths of Viperfog Valley.
From afar, Droy saw Daryl sprawled on the ground, bloodied and battered, his heavy armor shattered. Not far away, Leon Merlin stood, clutching the Dragonstaff, dazzling streams of light swirling around it like ribbons.
At the sight, Droy’s face went pale in an instant.
How could this be? It hadn’t been long since Daryl came out, and he was already defeated—and not just defeated, but utterly ruined. Even his heavy armor was smashed to pieces...
Daryl was a Sky Rank, Title Archmage-level Caucasus battle mage. Beneath the Sky Rank, someone might defeat him, but killing him? That was supposed to be impossible...
Was Leon Merlin really that strong? To injure Daryl so badly he couldn’t even run...
"Master Leon Merlin, please—show mercy..."
He hadn’t even arrived yet, but Droy was already shouting in terror. He could see it—Leon wasn’t just trying to scare Daryl; he was ready to kill him. To kill the commander of the Caucasus battle mages, a Sky Rank, Title Archmage-level powerhouse!
Leon Merlin’s brow furrowed slightly as he watched Droy streak toward them like a bolt of lightning.
That brief pause was all it took—Droy, now lightning incarnate, appeared beside the gravely wounded Daryl.
"Are you here to stop me, Master Droy?"
Leon frowned, staring at Droy as if facing a new threat.
Droy forced a bitter smile, glancing at the dazed Daryl beside him. He knew exactly what had just happened. This unnervingly young Merlin commander couldn’t be measured by Auckland mage standards.
Even the likes of Star Sage and Heron probably couldn’t be used as benchmarks for this Merlin family’s young commander...
Daryl’s strength was no mystery to Droy. Against Auckland mages, anyone beneath Sky Rank wouldn’t leave him without a chance to escape. This level of injury—in all these years, Droy had never witnessed it before.
Staring at the scattered fragments of heavy armor all around, Droy felt a chill in his heart, cold sweat streaming down his back.
That heavy armor was a Caucasus battle mage’s pride—its magical resistance was terrifying. Low-level spells couldn’t even scratch it; only spells of the fourth or fifth tier might leave a scorched mark...
But now, that pride had been reduced to a heap of broken fragments...
Now was not the time to provoke this terrifying young Title Archmage...
Droy put away his staff, spread his hands, even let his magic dissipate—showing he meant no harm, and would not resist at all.