Chapter 474: Crushing Defeat
But in the next moment, he realized this was neither a magical beast nor a wraith—it was a living, breathing person, and an incredibly powerful one at that...
A savage wind howled, mysterious runes shimmered within the mist, and in a heartbeat, more than a dozen lifelike giant serpents materialized, their stench thick and suffocating, lunging at Leon...
This was the fourth-level spell, Serpent of the Gale. Back in Seaview City, the Minister of Magic from the Cloudspire Tower, ninth-level Archmage Horn, had once wielded this spell against him. But the person attacking now was far more skilled with Serpent of the Gale than Horn ever was; Horn could summon nine serpents, but this man nearly doubled that—seventeen in total. Leon could tell at a glance that this was already the spell’s absolute limit...
Amid the roaring winds, seventeen Serpents of the Gale surged toward Leon, their force relentless and suffocating. In that instant, the Doombringer Staff in Leon’s grasp flickered coldly, and a thin, visible layer of Ice Armor swiftly enveloped him, exuding a chilling, lethal aura. A thunderous crash split the silence, sand and rubble erupting—a white silhouette darted through the ruins: Leon, wielding the Doombringer Staff. As raw magical power poured forth, the staff’s tip burned with an ominous glare, and five Fireballs, each trailing a serpentine tail of flame, hurtled toward the shadows.
"Hmm...?"
At that moment, a voice laced with astonishment rang out. The mist recoiled, revealing an elderly figure in a gray mage’s robe, clutching an ancient staff. His build was heavyset, his age somewhere past seventy. His gaze, brimming with disbelief, was fixed on Leon. Serpent of the Gale was his signature wind spell, pushed to its very limits—its power rivaled even a seventh-level advanced spell.
Yet...
The young mage before him had blocked his Serpent of the Gale with nothing but an Ice Armor. It was almost beyond belief...
In a heartbeat, he no longer dared to underestimate this young mage. The ancient staff rose, unleashing a surge of raw power—seven instant Ice Walls burst forth, encasing him in a fortress of frost. Crackling echoes rang out as the five blazing Fireballs struck the Ice Walls; within moments, the walls began to melt under the infernal heat, and the undiminished Fireballs pierced through, roaring straight for the gray-robed elder.
"Damn..."
The gray-robed elder’s expression contorted, as if he’d glimpsed some spectral horror, but he quickly steeled himself. Countless runes surged before him, weaving a massive shield. In the next instant, five Fireballs crashed against the rune barrier—cracks spiderwebbed across its surface with a brittle snap.
"Uh..."
The gray-robed elder dared not hesitate. He cast Haste upon himself, retreating in panic. Yet before he could utter a word, the young mage’s staff flared once more, unleashing another barrage of Fireballs, each radiating searing heat. The elder shuddered, his eyelids twitching; desperation overtook him—he cast every protection spell he knew, frantic and unrelenting...
Those Fireballs were no joke—if they hit, these old bones would be scattered for sure.
Soon, the battle dragged on for more than ten minutes. The gray-robed elder tried to speak several times, only to be interrupted each time, forced into a purely defensive stance.
"Damn it..."
The elder’s face was ashen; he'd been swearing internally for a while now. His robe was scorched all over, riddled with more than twenty holes—utterly miserable. Worst of all, the young mage’s relentless attacks forced him to pour everything into defense. In these ten-plus minutes, aside from his initial Serpent of the Gale, he hadn't managed to cast a single offensive spell.
His mana was nearly depleted; at best, he could cast a few more defensive spells...
He was getting desperate...
He no longer cared about dignity or shame. As several fierce spells came crashing down, he gathered every last drop of mana and summoned an Elemental Shield, barely managing to hold on. Seizing the brief opening, he shouted at the top of his lungs: "Mafa Merlin, stop! Stop now! This is all a misunderstanding—I'm from the Merlin Family Ancestral Grounds..."
Rion Merlin truly felt like banging his head against the wall...
He really was an ancestor from the Merlin Family Ancestral Grounds. Months ago, he’d heard that a young man named Mafa Merlin was going to become one of the commanders of the Merlin Family’s planar legion.
To be honest, he admired this young man. After asking Hofland for information about Leon, he was even more surprised—a twenty-something with such formidable power. Back when he was that age, he was still struggling to become an Archmage...
Then he learned that this young man had relied on two True Spirit Relics to stand up to Thorne Merlin, one of the Merlin Family’s three Sword Saints. Leon himself was only a first-level Archmage, with peak power around fourth-level, still some way from the fifth. Even so, that was already enough to qualify as a planar commander.
Precisely because he admired this young man, Rion Merlin had decided to test Leon, waiting in the canyon ahead of time. As soon as Leon appeared, he unleashed a nearly maxed-out Serpent of the Gale. He’d hesitated for a moment, wondering if, as a fifth-level Archmage, he might actually hurt the kid.
After all, this young man had limitless potential and was of immense value to the Merlin Family. Even as an ancestor, Rion Merlin couldn’t afford any mishaps—especially since ‘that one’ from the Ancestral Grounds had personally named Leon for a summons.
But then Rion Merlin reconsidered: if it was a test, holding back would be pointless. Besides, Leon carried not one but two True Spirit Relics—he surely had hidden cards yet to reveal. With that in mind, Rion Merlin made his move...
Any fifth-level Archmage would have to treat a near-maxed Serpent of the Gale with the utmost caution.
But...
What was truly unfathomable was that the young mage had repelled Serpent of the Gale with nothing but Ice Armor. Yet that was only the beginning—the true terror lay in the depths of his power...
He was not some ordinary fifth-level Archmage. Decades spent in the Ancestral Grounds, consumed by the study of sorcery, had honed him to a razor’s edge. Even Hofland, the family patriarch and fellow fifth-level Archmage, could withstand him for barely ten minutes.
Yet after crossing spells with the young mage, his heart sank. This wasn’t just losing ground—he was being utterly crushed. He could tell that Leon wasn’t even going all out; after each round of attacks, he’d leave him a chance to catch his breath.
"Damn it, Hofland, you actually lied to me..." Rion Merlin cursed the family head bitterly. How could this be the same young mage Hofland claimed was only at fourth-level? Even he was being steadily suppressed. If Leon used his other True Spirit Relic, he might even stand a chance against a sixth-level Archmage.
He couldn’t help but resent Hofland—this was far too humiliating. He was an ancestor from the Ancestral Grounds, a figure of high standing, testing a junior from the family, only to end up in this sorry state.
If word of this got out in the Ancestral Grounds, how could Rion Merlin show his face? The old crowd would laugh themselves silly...
Still, embarrassment was better than death...
Who could have guessed this young guy would be so fierce, utterly overwhelming even a fifth-level Archmage like himself...
"Nonsense! Why would an ancestor from the Ancestral Grounds want to kill me..." Leon’s lips curled into a sardonic smile as a surge of magic rose. The Doombringer Staff in his hand blazed, and another powerful spell finished its incantation.
"No, no... I wasn’t trying to kill you, it’s all a misunderstanding—I just wanted to test you. Mafa Merlin, my name is Rion Merlin, from the Ancestral Grounds, you have to believe me..." Seeing Leon’s movements, Rion Merlin was nearly scared to death, cold sweat pouring down his brow and soaking his gray mage’s robe. He stared at Leon in panic; with his mana depleted, if he took this spell head-on, he’d be lucky to survive.
As someone who’d lived nearly a century, Rion Merlin could easily tell that Leon already believed he was an ancestor. But this kid clearly held a grudge—damn, he’d better not cross Leon again.
"Oh, so it’s Lord Rion..."
Leon withdrew his magical aura, finally allowing Rion Merlin to breathe a sigh of relief. But before he could wipe away the cold sweat, Leon’s voice rang out again: "But Lord Rion, if there’s ever a next time, please give me a heads-up so I can be prepared..."
"Of course, of course... No problem!"
Rion Merlin’s mouth twitched slightly, and his gaze at Leon became noticeably awkward.
Next time?
Damn, like there’ll ever be a next time!
Does he look like the kind who enjoys getting beaten up...?
Of course, he didn’t dare say that out loud. He knew full well this young man didn’t care about his ancestor status—otherwise he wouldn’t have just mocked him...
He’d already asked for trouble once—no way there’d be a second time...
"Well, Mafa, we’ve wasted enough time here. There are a few more old fellows in the Ancestral Grounds waiting to meet you. Why don’t I take you over?" Rion Merlin took a deep breath, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible. "Honestly, Mafa, you’re far more impressive than we ever imagined—not even Thorne Merlin in his prime could compare. The old folks in the Ancestral Grounds will be thrilled to meet you..."