Chapter 799: Redskin Dwarves
Councilor Weiss's expression instantly darkened.
Before Weiss could say another word, General Gaskor shoved him aside roughly.
"Weiss, our orders are to destroy the Dark Elf Enclave. If you're going to be as spineless as a slime, you'd better get out of the way. If you can't do it, then let me handle it!"
With that, Gaskor lifted his chin and looked at Leon, his face twisted with ferocity and arrogance.
"So you're the idiot Harris chose as his successor? And you're a human? Harris is a fool, an old, brainless groundhog who betrayed the Forgefire Clan. Bad luck for you—today you'll be destroyed along with the Dark Elf Enclave. No, you'll die first. I'll make those stupid Dark Elves who actually accept a human as their leader join you in death!"
As he spoke, Gaskor unslung his crimson warhammer from his back. His aura erupted like an explosion, waves of heat radiating from his body. His already ruddy skin seemed to ignite, white-hot currents surging skyward from his frame.
Gaskor was ready to strike. The squad of Forgefire Dwarf soldiers outside the plaza immediately entered battle formation, each clad in heavy armor, gripping massive iron hammers in their right hands and drawing smaller warhammers with their left.
At this sight, a Dark Elf standing at the rear sounded the signal arrow. Its sharp, piercing cry echoed over the Dark Elf Enclave, and in an instant, swarms of Gryphon Riders and Ashen Orc Wind Riders took to the air, followed by masses of Dark Elves and Ashen Orcs charging from behind.
Leon remained calm, waving to the Second Elder. Instantly, the Dark Elves and Ashen Orcs who had entered battle mode withdrew.
Gaskor sneered dismissively.
"All that's left are these pitiful remnants, and you still want to resist? It doesn't matter. No matter what you do, the outcome won't change. From today, the Dark Elf Enclave will be nothing but history."
Gaskor saw only a few dozen Dark Elves appear, unaware that in just three minutes, the entire Dark Elf Enclave would gather here.
Seeing Leon order the Dark Elves to withdraw, Gaskor couldn't help but smile.
This human really is weak. He knows he can't win—maybe he's thinking about surrendering or negotiating? Pathetic. In this situation, do you really think you'll get a chance to bargain? Today, I'll personally send you all to meet the Primordials.
Gaskor raised his massive iron hammer, over a meter long, and laughed maniacally.
"Foolish human, do you think I'm as weak as Weiss? Don't think I'll let you off just because you don't resist. Prepare to die!"
Gaskor drew a smaller warhammer from his waist with his left hand and hurled it at Leon. The terrifying force sent the hammer spinning at a frightening speed, friction with the air igniting bright bolts of lightning along its surface.
In the blink of an eye, the warhammer traced a path of interwoven white and blue through the air, appearing before Leon.
Leon remained calm, making no move and uttering no incantation. Suddenly, shards of ice erupted from the ground in front of him, rapidly growing into a pillar formed by countless fragments.
The warhammer slammed into the ice pillar, sending a web of cracks across its surface. But the surrounding ice shards writhed rapidly, enveloping the hammer. Frost surged over the pillar, locking the weapon in place, frozen solid within the column.
In the distance, a look of concern flickered across Councilor Weiss's face. He opened his mouth, but said nothing.
Leon Merlin was in serious trouble this time. Gaskor was the second strongest in the Forgefire Clan, second only to the Forgefire King. If the king hadn't just broken through to Sky Rank, Gaskor could have lasted half an hour against him.
Though merely an eighth-level Sword Saint, his combat power far surpassed that of ordinary Sword Saints at the same rank.
Leon Merlin's abilities weren't weak—he could suppress fifth-level Sword Saints even before reaching Title Archmage. But Gaskor was no ordinary Sword Saint; his strength was terrifying, even greater than some thirty-eighth rank magical beasts known for raw power.
Judging by Leon Merlin's current state, he'd only just become a first-rank Title Archmage. The odds weren't in his favor.
But there was nothing I could do. If I helped Leon Merlin now, it would be betraying the Black Tower. Archmage Felton would never let me off...
But if I intervened, I wouldn't be able to explain myself to Chairman Heron when I returned. Forget it—I'll stay out of this...
Councilor Weiss gritted his teeth, torn by indecision. In the end, he retreated to the back, choosing to help no one. Let strength decide the outcome.
Gaskor hurled a warhammer, expecting the fight to be over. For Forgefire Dwarves, warhammers are crucial weapons, forged through years of training. Their arm strength is monstrous—when they throw a hammer, it's faster than sound, friction with the air sparking lightning. At this range, no human mage should be able to block it.
But not only was it blocked—it was blocked in a way that defied all logic.
A single Freeze spell!
It was as if the spell had been cast just to catch the warhammer, freezing it at the perfect moment.
Gaskor froze for a split second, then snapped back to reality at the sound of the rushing air.
The hammer's speed had exceeded that of sound—the sonic boom only followed after the weapon was completely stopped, rolling in like a tide.
Boom...
A violent tremor shook the ground. The ice shattered, and when the hammer fell out of the broken pillar, it was already splintered into a dozen fragments.
Gaskor, a master smith, immediately understood: in that single second, the hammer had been frozen solid. Metal exposed to such extreme cold becomes brittle—the lower the temperature, the more fragile it gets.
Now it shattered just from hitting the ground. This Freeze spell was absolutely a Limit Spell.
A savage grin spread across Gaskor's face. Gripping his great hammer in both hands, he stomped the ground and shot toward Leon like an arrow loosed from a bow.