To become the leader of these foreign magicians, this old sorcerer certainly possessed considerable strength and prestige. Unlike the continent, where the Age of Gods had long since ended, this island—Great Britain, the homeland of the fairies—still bore the fading traces of that divine era. It was the last vestige of the Age of Gods.
When the magicians first landed on the island, they took time to adjust to the unfamiliar climate and waters. Naturally, the old magician was the first to recover and adapt. They even covertly studied the island's native creatures, for many fairies and dragons still roamed here.
To acquire fresh magical materials, the old magician once led a team to capture several fairies. Although fairies were powerful, they were not invincible.
Besides, fairies were scarce on the mainland. Magicians there had long since developed various methods to capture and exploit them—whether for research or as ingredients.
After all, desire drives all progress, whether in science or magic—whether fueled by greed or laziness. The market's demands spur magicians to create all manner of specialized spells and enchantments.
It was because this old magician had succeeded in obtaining rare fairy materials—some even alive—that he gained his formidable reputation.
Having dealt with many types of fairies, the old magician was confident no fairy could harm him. Even against a very powerful fairy, he would burn everything he had and fight to the last breath.
Moreover, on this island, where the gods' influence was waning, the most powerful fairies were believed to have fallen into deep slumber or retreated to the inner world. This was part of the old magician's confidence.
Unexpectedly, Morgan was accompanied not only by a formidable young knight but also by such a fairy. But that mattered little. The forging hammer in the young knight's hand, inscribed with countless fairy runes, would soon be theirs. The fairy at their side would become nothing more than material for their experiments.
In fact, the old magician was quite intrigued by the forging hammer Aslan wielded. To him, such a hammer adorned with fairy script was a rare treasure. If deciphered by magicians like him, how many new magics could be created?
The flame at the tip of the old magician's staff finally condensed into a blazing orb. The raging fire swirling around gathered into a miniature sun atop his staff. He was ready to pierce his enemy's body with that burning spear.
At that moment, Melusine rose, sword poised and aimed at the old magician's neck.
"One strike and you'll die instantly. Sword technique, begin! Connect—"
Melusine shattered into motion—a streak of light racing through space and time as if the world had frozen. In a blink, she traversed the horizontal plane at impossible speed.
Behind the old magician seemed to open a gateway—an otherworldly horizontal door transcending all boundaries.
The afterimage of the Horizontal Dragon was here, about to break through the realm once again—though this time, with an incomplete form.
For now, let's call it "The Unknown Immaculate Lake Light."
In the blink before the old magician could react, blood spilled onto the ground.
His mouth parted slightly as the fireball in his hand split into two. The sword had pierced through his body and divided the power he wielded.
The small sun-like flames dissipated rapidly, forcing the surrounding soldiers to stagger back.
The fiery glow in the old magician's eyes faded, his vision blurring. Death was about to unfurl its dark wings over him.
Perhaps sensing this, the old magician's gaze fixed on the golden eyes of the girl before him, as if glimpsing some terrible shadow within them.
A black dragon with golden eyes radiating oppressive waves. Though not a monstrous beast of legend, its sleek lines unmistakably marked it as a dragon.
"So… you're not a fairy… but a dragon? Ahem…"
Spitting blood, the old magician glanced again at Morgan and Aslan. Morgan's powerful magic and mystique stunned him, while Aslan's elusive dragon power revealed an extraordinary bloodline.
What kind of team had I dared to offend?
Confused and shaken, the old magician questioned his fate. He had faced incredible beings before, but such a gathering was unprecedented. Had his luck finally run out? To encounter such forces at his age…
Yet in some ways, such an adventure before death made his life worthwhile.
Still, in the end, he wished he hadn't met them at all.
The old magician's sudden death stunned everyone nearby.
The alien general realized their attack had failed. Perhaps every soldier and magician who came to assault the castle would die here.
But a warrior dies by his own code.
Pointing his mace at Aslan, the general took a deep breath.
"A warrior has his dignity. This girl is not human, correct? Then I will not fight her to the death. Your Excellency… if I die by your hand, I will have no regrets."
Aslan's eyes flicked from the general to the soldiers behind him. His legs trembled, and he felt his pants dampen. He shook his head internally. Compared to the general, these soldiers were truly despicable.
"Melusine, handle the others. I'll take care of this one."
Clenching the forging hammer, Aslan stepped forward, accepting the general's challenge.
Seeing this, the general smiled—a bitter, then carefree smile.
"Thank you for your kindness, sir."