The Unseen Threat

Without any accelerant, the fireball hovered in mid-air, supported by magic. The flickering crimson tongues of flame looked as if they could be extinguished at any moment, yet Lanlos could clearly sense the destructive power contained within.

Suppressing the excitement in his heart, Lanlos fixed his gaze on a maple tree not far away. A simple trigger syllable escaped his lips, and the fireball, previously suspended in the air, shot forward instantly, leaving a narrow crimson trail as it slammed fiercely into the trunk.

Bang!

A sound like a bursting balloon rang out. The dry, cracked bark shattered amidst the sparks, and a massive crater appeared on the trunk, with red embers flickering incessantly within the charred remains.

Although it was merely the most basic evocation spell, the Fireball, its lethality was not to be underestimated; more importantly, it held great symbolic significance.

Lanlos clenched his fists tightly, his body trembling uncontrollably. Clearly, he was too excited to speak.

A spellcaster is the ultimate symbol of power in this world; even with a frail body, they can destroy the heavens and extinguish the earth with a mere gesture.

However, every spellcaster faces a problem they wish to avoid: the incantation.

Although this was his first time casting a Fireball, the ten-second duration was simply too long; even an ordinary person could assassinate him during that time. Therefore, if he wanted to apply his spellcasting ability to actual combat, he would need to practice for some time.

Taking a deep breath and slowly reeling in his irrepressible excitement, Lanlos's azure eyes returned to calm, deep and steady like a lake in the forest.

Loud explosions echoed continuously from the woodland near the Golden Beach, growing more frequent with each passing moment, and the nearby birds and beasts had long since fled without a trace. However, perhaps because the rhythm of the elf youth's practice was too regular, an extremely distant and faint sound suddenly spread through the air. Immersed in compressing the casting time of his Fireball, Lanlos did not notice that the scent of gunpowder was beginning to permeate the forest not far away.

The emaciated body collapsed limply, and thick, withered leaves instantly buried it, though they could not hide the horrific marks on the corpse of the elven ranger. Dense, purple-black whip marks covered the entire body, and the originally pink skin was torn and everted, a bloody mess that had long since lost its original appearance.

In front of the corpses of this elven squad, a dozen green figures looked completely out of place under the golden projections of the maple forest.

"Kergash, my people have paid a heavy price for your plan." Looking at the significant number of troll corpses at his feet, Tregra narrowed his eyes slightly. Combined with the viscous blood covering his body, a dangerous aura spread rapidly through the surroundings.

These were all elite warriors of the Amani, yet they had died in a foreign land for the sake of the Darkpine Tribe's scheme...

Beside him, a hunched Forest Trolls shrugged his shoulders, the skeletal decorations on his body clattering together, producing a series of faint, hollow sounds that were bone-chilling.

"Be patient." As the chieftain of the Darkpine Tribe, Kergash did not take the other's threat to heart. "Zul'jin sent you here to assist me, not to complain."

"Assist? Can't you see? We have no way to hide ourselves in this forest. The battles we've encountered over the past few days have nearly wiped out my hunters!" He hoisted the axe in his hand, as if he would swing it forward at the slightest disagreement. "But now, apart from these rangers, I haven't encountered anything else!"

Slap!

Before Tregra could finish his sentence, a lightning-fast black shadow slammed fiercely into the ground in front of him. A large amount of shattered, withered leaves scattered, and the air suddenly froze.

"Giggle, getting angry will give you wrinkles." With delicate skin, rosy cheeks, and a hot, curvaceous figure, it was difficult for any man to look away from her for even a second. The naturally exuding pink aura made it easy for one to overlook the pitch-black horns on her forehead, her goat-like black legs, and the bat-like demonic wings on her back.

Although her strength was not particularly notable within the Burning Legion, Sayaad was the one all enemies of the Legion needed to guard against most. Relying on their innate cunning, they could play the vast majority of people in the palm of their hands.

They had another, more widely known name: Succubus.

Tregra was well aware of the strength of this emaciated demon; even elven rangers could not resist her supernatural charm!

Glancing at the elf not far away who had been shot by his kin's arrows, Tregra frowned, then silently suppressed the anger in his chest. "Bitch, this is none of your business. You and your timid master have yet to gain Zul'jin's trust."

Her slender eyebrows arched slightly, and Alisa's blood-red lips curled into an alluring arc. "Isn't it ridiculous to hear the word 'timid' coming from your mouth?"

"Are you questioning me?" The sharp axe in the troll warrior's hand trembled violently, and invisible flames gradually rose in his eyes. "Demon spawn, if you have the guts, come and try..."

Just as Tregra was about to provoke a conflict, a green eyeball quietly entered his field of vision.

"Before that." Kergash reached out and grabbed it, a strange, sinister grin pulling at the face hidden in the shadows. "I advise you to save your strength for the elves."

As Kergash crushed the eyeball, a layer of light screen suddenly appeared in the air from the shadows in front of him. The golden buildings of the High Elves appeared within it like a slideshow; leisurely and frail elven women, children, and the elderly walked back and forth, while those rangers who made the trolls tremble with fear were nowhere to be seen.

Absolutely perfect! The arc of Tregra's mouth made one shudder.

A perfect slaughtering ground...

If Lanlos had seen this scene, he would surely have been stunned; everything in the image was far too familiar.

That's right, Golden Branch Village!

What was even more puzzling was that the Darkpine Tribe had long since submitted to the rule of the Amani, so why would Tregra, a captain of an elite squad, listen to the Darkpine chieftain, Kergash?

Even more absurdly, this seemed to be the order of Warlord Zul'jin. Furthermore, when did demons start colluding with trolls?

However, at this moment, Lanlos did not realize that a crisis was approaching.

The sound of Fireball explosions near the beach had been silent for a long time. Lanlos was currently slumped under the shade of a tree, wiping the sweat from his face while continuing to deduce the spell model.

After half a day of practice, this novice mage could now complete and activate the spell model for a Fireball in three seconds. This was a cause for celebration, but also the source of Lanlos's frustration.

The casting time for the Fireball seemed to have been compressed to its limit; whether it was the simplification of the spell model or the speed of absorbing magic, Lanlos could no longer feel any room for further improvement. Simply put, he seemed to have hit a bottleneck.

More importantly, casting spells is exhausting. Every time he communicated with and manipulated magic, it required extremely focused mental energy. Moreover, frequent spellcasting like Lanlos's reckless approach easily led to dizziness, physical weakness, and other states of exhaustion in a short period; in severe cases, it could even cause the spellcaster to faint on the spot.

After realizing the limits of his mental energy, Lanlos decided to rest without hesitation. What made him overjoyed was that his mental energy was far stronger than his peers. He figured this had an inseparable connection to the Keystone and the demon souls he had devoured.

"Walla-la-wuka!"

"Wulla-la..."

Several strange, high-pitched, argumentative voices suddenly appeared in his ears. Lanlos immediately stopped his exploration of the Fireball, lay down, and completely hid himself in the grass.

After a while, the elf raised his azure eyes and carefully observed the beach not far away.

Murlocs. A dozen Murlocs had appeared near the coast at some point, and two larger ones were shoving each other, their strange and ridiculous language becoming increasingly urgent and intense.

Seeing the Murloc group gradually splitting due to the dispute between the two big ones, the corner of Lanlos's mouth couldn't help but curl into a faint arc.

Are they about to fight? Interesting. It's the perfect chance for me to test the actual combat power of the Fireball.

Just as the elf youth was fantasizing about the conflict erupting between the Murlocs, followed by him reaping the benefits with his Fireball, the development of the situation left him disappointed.

"Wukawawala..." One of the arguing Murlocs displayed an impatient expression. Then, amidst the shocked and fearful gazes of everyone present, he raised his hands, the slime on his scales reflecting the sunlight with a dazzling glint.

No! That wasn't a reflection!

CRACKLE!

A bolt of azure lightning suddenly bloomed in his hands. Sensing a threat to his life, the Murloc who had been arguing with him immediately recoiled, kneeling respectfully before him the moment the lightning bolt took shape.

Wearing a satisfied grin, the Murloc Shaman withdrew the elemental power. Like a boss out for a stroll, he led his entourage of lackeys, striding proudly toward the distant coastline.

After a long while, a rustling sound emerged from the grass, and Lanlos's pale, tied-back hair came into view. Unlike before, the smugness on his face had completely vanished.

This world was not the one he had once known; regardless of the creature, one could not judge them by appearances alone. Shamans and mages shared a similar essence, though the former gained the ability to cast spells by establishing a connection with the spirits of all things.

What kept Lanlos silent was that while a lightning bolt was also a first-circle spell, that Murloc had successfully constructed the spell model in a mere two seconds.

That one-second difference proved that the Murloc was stronger than him.

On the path of a spellcaster, he still had a long way to go.

Burying his joy deep within his heart, Lanlos picked up his cane and walked step by step toward the village. More than being discouraged by the Murloc, the appearance of a Murloc Shaman on the coast so close to Golden Branch Village meant he had to notify Fergus and the Militia as soon as possible.