Chapter 252: One Day and Three Months
“Caucasus?” Leon was momentarily stunned. What was President Lance talking about—how did the conversation turn to the Caucasus Highlands? At first, Leon thought Lance had simply misspoken, so he joked: “President Lance, the Caucasus Highlands are thousands of miles away from Four Seasons Gorge…”
He hadn’t expected that his casual joke would leave President Lance frozen in place, almost as if possessed, staring at Leon with a look of utter horror for several seconds. He didn’t even notice a thunderbird swooping down until Leon intervened to save him. Even then, Lance didn’t look at the thunderbird—instead, his voice trembled as he asked, “M—Merlin, are you sure this isn’t the Caucasus Highlands?”
“President Lance, this really isn’t the Caucasus Highlands…” Leon gradually realized Lance was being serious.
After patiently explaining, Leon found himself quietly puzzled…
What’s going on here?
Lance didn’t seem confused or delirious—why would he think they’d ended up in the Caucasus Highlands? That’s thousands of miles away. No matter how powerful the Lucky Box is, it couldn’t possibly transport a dozen people that far in one go, right? Could it be that Lance’s group had a completely different experience than Leon’s?
Different enough for Lance to think he’d actually wandered around the Caucasus Highlands?
“How could this not be the Caucasus Highlands? H—how is that possible…” As Leon wondered, Lance was completely dazed.
“President Lance, this really isn’t the Caucasus Highlands.”
“Really not?”
“Yes, really not…” Leon sighed, finally realizing that Lance truly believed this was the Caucasus Highlands. For a moment, Leon was utterly perplexed. “President Lance, I think something must have gone wrong. Can you recall where you all went after we got separated?”
“We…” Lance snapped back to reality at Leon’s question. “After we got separated, we entered an underground fortress and encountered a swarm of lava spiders. Fortunately, their levels weren’t too high, and we managed to escape…”
“Lava spiders?” Leon was startled and began to understand why Lance insisted this was the Caucasus Highlands. Lava spiders are a specialty of the Caucasus Highlands. The Caucasus Battlemages have fought them for over a thousand years, and every year, many battlemages die in these battles…
But just because there are lava spiders doesn’t mean this is the Caucasus Highlands…
In Northend, there are hundreds of volcanoes, each capable of breeding lava spiders. So how can we be sure this is the Caucasus Highlands?
Just as Leon was thinking this, Lance slowly spoke up again: “At first, we didn’t realize this was the Caucasus Highlands. But after a few days, we kept getting lost, so Bardrack started drawing maps. Over the next month, we fought dozens of battles. Bardrack’s map…”
“Wait, a month?” The more Leon listened, the stranger it sounded. What was going on—a few days was one thing, but how did it turn into a month?
Leon remembered clearly—it had been less than a day since they’d gotten separated. How could Lance’s group have experienced a whole month?
At this point, Leon already sensed that something was seriously wrong…
“Yeah, a month—what’s wrong?” Lance looked at Leon in surprise, then continued, “After a month, Bardrack finally finished the map. That’s when we realized we’d been wandering in central Caucasus Highlands. So we decided to head southwest and return to Auckland first. That trip took another two months, and that’s when we ran into you all…”
No way… Leon felt the situation was getting serious. If Lance’s story was true, they’d been traveling for over three months, all in the Caucasus Highlands. What was going on?
“Merlin, you… what’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” Leon shook his head. “But President Lance, I think something must have gone wrong…”
What went wrong?
First, this definitely isn’t the Caucasus Highlands. Both Lord Sylas West and Archmage Salomon can confirm that. As for our exact location, we should be on the fourth floor of a stone tower. Also, we haven’t been separated for three months…
Not three months?” Lance was stunned. “Then… how long?”
One day…
Impossible!” Lance nearly jumped in shock. He’d lived through every moment of those three months, remembered every detail. How could it have only been a day?
Enough, President Lance. Let’s talk about what happened later—right now, we need to deal with these thunderbirds…
After a brief exchange, the two refocused on the battlefield. By now, the joint exploration team had gained the upper hand. In the sky, Sylas West was holding off the Thunderbird Chief; on the ground, Leon, Salomon, and Fran joined the fray. The tide turned almost instantly as their forces surged.
The joint exploration team quickly switched from defense to offense. The thunderbird flock soon began to suffer casualties—first one, then two, then three…
At this point, the outcome was already clear…
After teaming up with Salomon to bring down two thunderbirds, Leon’s attention drifted from the main battlefield, focusing now on Sylas West in the sky…
The battle between Sylas West and the Thunderbird Chief had reached a fever pitch. One was a newly minted Title Archmage, the other a flying magical beast of at least level thirty-five. Their clash was evenly matched for now—Sylas’s overwhelming power was offset by the chief’s aerial domain. With its natural flying ability, the Thunderbird Chief managed to keep pace, and Leon knew that without help, Sylas’s fight could drag on for at least thirty minutes…
Thirty minutes is too long…
After a moment’s thought, Leon poured mana into the Lava Dominator. As he activated its flying ability, an ice-fire shield enveloped him, and he shot toward the Thunderbird Chief in a flash of red and blue light.
“Merlin, cover me…” Sylas West saw Leon take to the sky and knew the outcome was decided. With Title Archmage-level power against a beast under level forty, it was almost an overwhelming advantage. Yet, the Thunderbird Chief’s natural speed and agility had nearly caught Sylas off guard.
Now that Merlin was airborne, with the young Grand Magus’s strength, covering Sylas wouldn’t be a problem. If Leon could buy him ten seconds, Sylas would be able to completely suppress the Thunderbird Chief—and perhaps even kill it on the spot.
But Leon seemed not to hear him at all, cutting a sharp arc through the air—flying so close he nearly grazed the Thunderbird Chief’s underbelly.
“Merlin, be careful!” Sylas West was startled—this was reckless. The Thunderbird Chief’s underbelly was a vital spot, but also the most dangerous. At this level, magical beasts have intelligence far beyond humans, instinctively protecting their weak points. Merlin was only flying with a magic device, not true flight magic, and getting that close was practically handing himself to the Thunderbird Chief’s talons.
Sure enough…
Just as Sylas West cried out, the Thunderbird Chief’s wings—each more than ten meters long—flared open in midair. Its talons tucked in, then suddenly shot out…
Damn…
Sylas West cursed inwardly—the Thunderbird Chief’s reaction was so fast, it even caught him off guard. Now things were truly dire: those talons had blocked every escape route for the young Grand Magus. If the Thunderbird Chief unleashed a lightning strike next, Leon would have nowhere to run…
Just as Sylas West had that thought, Leon had already rushed to the Thunderbird Chief’s underbelly. Its talons swept toward him, but Leon rolled away just in time—and a piercing screech rang out above his head.
Then, the Thunderbird Chief gave a violent shake, shedding hundreds—maybe thousands—of feathers.
In an instant, those golden feathers transformed into a storm of lightning, blotting out the sky. Thousands of golden serpents writhed overhead, weaving a vast net that closed in on Leon.
“Damn it!” Sylas West cursed.
The young Grand Magus’s strength was undeniable—he’d delivered countless surprises along the way. But youth comes with its flaws: too reckless, too impulsive. This was a magical beast of at least level thirty-five; you can’t just charge in like that.
We clearly had the upper hand…
All you had to do was cover me—give me ten seconds, and we could kill the Thunderbird Chief without trouble. Why be so reckless…
But it was too late—the storm of lightning had completely engulfed Leon. Even with Sylas West’s skills, there was no way to pull Leon out.
At this point, all Sylas West could do was prepare to cast a spell.
He could only hope the young Grand Magus was lucky enough…
If he could survive this wave of lightning, there’d still be a chance—Sylas West could use a spell to buy him some time.
But even if he survived, he’d probably be gravely injured…
There was no helping it—the Thunderbird Chief’s attack was simply too ferocious. Even as a Title Archmage, Sylas West wouldn’t dare take it head-on, let alone a twenty-something Grand Magus.
As Sylas West thought this, he hurriedly began chanting a spell. Just as the lightning storm was about to erupt, he suddenly heard a wail—and saw a massive figure plummet from the sky…