The mages battling in the sky were all old rivals. Though the fighting was fierce and spells flew back and forth, the battle remained deadlocked, with neither side able to defeat the other.
There was no helping it. Both sides knew each other inside out, so their trump cards could not produce the desired effect.
"Dave, hurry up. Morgana's spell will be complete in another ten minutes or so."
Balthazar was growing anxious. As he fought Maxim, he sent Dave a telepathic message.
Dave, who had already smashed more than a dozen mirrors and raised a huge lump on his head, said, "It's not that I don't want to. I really can't do it. My head's about to crack open."
"You have to do it, even if you can't. You're the next Merlin!"
Balthazar shouted. Dave froze. "The next Merlin? What does that mean? Balthazar, have you been hiding something from me?"
Balthazar hesitated, then briefly explained everything. Afterward, he said, "Merlin prophesied that you would be the next Merlin. You're also the only person who can kill Morgana."
"I'm the next Merlin?"
At first, Dave was delighted. He felt like the protagonist of a novel or movie, about to defeat the final Boss, marry a beautiful, wealthy woman, and reach the pinnacle of life.
But he soon deflated. "Someone like me can be the next Merlin? Isn't that setting the bar a little low for Merlin?"
Balthazar was speechless. Anyone else who learned they were the next Merlin would probably become impossibly conceited, yet Dave still had no confidence whatsoever.
In truth, Balthazar had something to do with Dave's lack of confidence. Ten years ago, the incident involving magic had gotten Dave sent to a psychiatric hospital for several years of treatment. How could he have any confidence after