Chapter 41: A Major Move
1042 Words
Merlin, hearing this, took a careful look at the masked man before him. This person seemed to understand spellcasters quite well and even addressed Merlin as a "spellcaster" rather than the "heretic" most others used, showing his familiarity with spellcasters.
Moreover, what he said was indeed true. With Merlin currently only mastering a single zero-level spell, he would be unable to cope with hundreds or thousands of arrows.
"Angus, are you really despairing over a mere evil heretic?"
Another masked man turned his gaze toward Merlin, and at the same time, his greatsword began to glow with an even more intense white light.
“Merlin, be careful! They’re both Level-Three Light Swordsmen!”
Old Wilson clutched the wound on his abdomen and, in a weak voice, reminded Merlin.
“Kill!”
One of the masked men grew furious when Merlin ignored him. The white glow on his sword extended nearly a meter as he slashed directly at Merlin.
“Fireball!”
Merlin’s eyes turned cold. He raised his hand and flung out two fireballs, which flew out instantly. These weren’t Greater Fireballs but regular Fireballs, which, with his current mana reserves, he could cast over a dozen times without rest.
Moreover, as his spiritual power improved, the speed of his fireballs increased, and their flight paths became increasingly unpredictable.
"Boom."
A faint smirk appeared on Merlin’s lips. The two fireballs exploded mid-air, unleashing a surge of flame that instantly engulfed the masked man.
The masked man let out a miserable scream amid the flames. A foul smell of scorched flesh emanated from his body.
The fireball conjured by Fireball Spell was extremely hot, capable of melting fine steel—let alone a Level-Three Light Swordsman.
So, after a few screams, the man collapsed to the ground, motionless.
“Quero!”
The remaining two, Angus and Lelo, shouted simultaneously. The white glow around them surged higher as they charged toward Merlin from two directions.
Merlin shook his head slightly. Back when he faced “Lorraine,” he had been in a sorry state, but now he could kill a Level-Three Elemental Swordsman with a single gesture. This wasn’t just because he was more proficient in using spellcaster power—it was also due to a significant improvement in his spiritual power, allowing for far greater spell control.
Thus, the moment the two moved, Merlin sensed them and immediately cast Greater Fireball without hesitation.
“Buzz buzz buzz.”
A massive fireball floated in the air, its compressed fire element so dense that the orb seemed unstable.
“Boom.”
Merlin detonated the fireball without hesitation. The explosion generated a violent shockwave that blasted straight at Angus and Lelo.
The two paused mid-charge as they were hit by the explosive force and scattered sparks.
Even those tiny sparks—being condensed fire elements—were terrifyingly powerful. A single touch could burn a bloody hole.
Fortunately, both Angus and Lelo were Level-Three Light Swordsmen and could barely resist the flames. However, they were still injured by the explosive shock.
Merlin had no intention of stopping there. With one Greater Fireball having injured them, he immediately followed up with two more Fireball spells. The fireballs, each the size of a fist, flew silently like ghosts toward the two.
“Bang! Bang!”
A fireball pierced straight through Laylor’s head, burning away half of it.
Another fireball was actually blocked by Angus with his arm; the terrifying heat burned right through one of his arms, yet Angus endured the intense pain, flipped onto his horse, and immediately fled.
“Trying to flee? Too late!”
Merlin naturally wouldn’t let Angus escape. Although Angus was fast, Merlin’s fireball spell was even faster. Another fireball howled through the air, slamming heavily into Angus’s armor.
That thin layer of light armor didn’t provide any protection at all; the fireball pierced through it directly, blasting a bowl-sized bloody hole in Angus’s back.
Angus fell off his horse immediately and stopped moving.
All three level-three Light Swordsmen were dead. Seeing their leaders killed, the bandits fell into chaos, with countless of them screaming and trying to retreat.
Commander Pula seized the opportunity, leading the remaining few hundred knights in the territory to launch a fierce charge. Soon, the area around the castle was littered with corpses—at least five hundred bodies.
Merlin did not continue the pursuit. He helped the injured Old Wilson lie down inside the castle, then directed the servants to begin clearing the corpses outside.
Half an hour later, Pula returned to the territory with many knights. He quickly entered the castle and reported to Old Wilson: “Baron, the bandits have been driven off and are completely defeated. They likely won’t pose a threat to the territory again anytime soon.”
Old Wilson’s face was a bit pale, but he still struggled to sit up and asked coldly, “Any prisoners?”
Pula nodded, then had several knights bring in over a dozen wounded prisoners, all of whom knelt before Old Wilson.
Old Wilson narrowed his eyes slightly, scanning the group of prisoners, and then asked in a deep voice, “Speak. What is your church planning?”
The prisoners looked at each other, then cautiously replied, “Baron, we’re not with the church. We’re bandits from the border between the Blackmoon Kingdom and the Light Kingdom. A year ago, our leader was killed by the church’s Guardian Swordsman, and afterward, we were incorporated into this knight squad. Except for the two hundred core church members, the rest of us are actually bandits. So we don’t know what the church is plotting.”
“But we did hear that the church is planning something big. They’re taking action in Glan City, Blackwater City, and Rutt City.”
After speaking, the prisoners looked nervously at Old Wilson, their eyes filled with pleading.
“Take them out and kill them all!”
Old Wilson’s face turned grim and his tone was ice-cold. Soon after, the dozen or so prisoners were led out by Pula and executed.
“Merlin, we must return to Blackwater City as quickly as possible!”
Old Wilson raised his head. Despite the fatigue on his face, his expression was grave and his voice low.
- Writer
