To be able to serve as the leader of these foreign magi, this old magus naturally possessed sufficient strength and prestige. Unlike the continent where the Age of Gods had already ended, this fairy homeland—this island of Great Britain—still retained traces of that divine age. This was the last glory of the Age of Gods!
So, when these magi first set foot on this island, they experienced a kind of magical incompatibility and had to go through a period of adjustment. And this old magus was, of course, the first to recover, even going so far as to secretly research the native fairies and certain dragonkin that still lingered in this fairy homeland, all without the approval of the king.
In order to acquire fresh materials, this old magus had even led a team to capture several fairies. Though fairies were powerful, that didn't mean they couldn't be dealt with.
What's more, on the continent, fairies were rarely seen, and in order to obtain information about them—or even directly use them as materials—continental magi had already devised all sorts of methods to counter and capture fairies.
After all, market demand always gives rise to ambition, and ambition drives magi to create all manner of targeted spells.
Whether it's the development of science or the advancement of magecraft, it is ultimately driven by desire—whether that be greed or sloth. And it was precisely because this old magus had led other magi to successfully obtain fairy materials, even living specimens, that he had earned such renown.
It was also because he had defeated several types of fairies that this old and seasoned magus had the confidence to claim that fairies couldn't possibly do anything to him. Even if faced with a particularly powerful one, he was ready to burn his very life away and take the enemy down with him.
However... on this island where divinity had begun to fade, the most powerful fairies had probably already fallen into slumber or retreated to the Reverse Side of the World. That, too, was one of the reasons this old magus could remain so confident.
He hadn't expected that not only was there a capable young knight beside the witch Morgan, but also such a fairy. Still, it didn't matter. That young knight held a forging hammer engraved with a great many fairy runes—it would soon be theirs. And this fairy before him would also become one of their experimental materials.
In truth, the old magus had felt a flicker of excitement when he saw the forging hammer in Aslan's hand. To him, such a tool inscribed with so many fairy runes was simply wasted on Aslan. If those runes could be deciphered by magi like them, how many miraculous grand spells could they derive from them?
The old magus's staff, whose tip had been burning with flame, finally gathered its fire entirely. The surrounding inferno collapsed into the staff's tip, forming a blazing miniature sun. In that moment, it was as though a tiny star had been born—he was ready to pierce through his foe with it in a single strike!
At the same time, Melusine floated into the air, pointing her sword at the old magus. "One strike—to end you! Sword technique—Severing Blade, activate! Connect—!"
In the very next moment, Melusine shot forward like a flash of light, speeding through space-time itself. The world seemed to halt as she pierced across both time and space in an instant, cutting through the horizon as though the boundary of the world itself lay just behind the old magus.
There, in that radiant and silent distant place, someone had now arrived.
The shadow of the dragon that once crossed the horizon was now breaking through that boundary once more, even if only in its incomplete form.
For now, let this technique be called: "[The Pristine Lake Light Yet Unknown to This World]!"
In just that brief instant, before thoughts could even catch up, blood spilled across the ground. The old magus's mouth opened slightly in shock, and the flame at his staff's tip split in two. This strike had not only pierced his body—it had also split apart the power he held.
That miniature sun-like flame dispersed rapidly, and the intense heat made the surrounding soldiers instinctively step back several paces.
In the old magus's eyes, the fire faded, and his vision began to blur. Death had already draped its dark wings over him. Perhaps it was because of this that, in his fading consciousness, the old magus looked into the girl's golden eyes—and seemed to glimpse a terrifying shadow within them.
It was a black dragon, radiating a crushing sense of majesty from its golden eyes. Though it was different from the dragons in his imagination—its sleek lines unlike those grotesque monsters—it was unmistakably a dragon.
"So... not a fairy, but... a dragon? Khh..."
The old magus coughed up blood and looked toward Morgan and Aslan again. The immense magical power and mystery radiating from the former shocked him, while the faint dragon aura from the latter spoke of a rare and noble bloodline.
Just what kind of group... had he provoked?
For a moment, the old magus even began to doubt his life choices. How had he ended up crossing paths with beings like this—and so many of them gathered in one place, no less? Had he used up all his luck? To encounter such absurd individuals at his age?
But then again, from a certain perspective, to meet such an extraordinary fate right before death... perhaps he could consider his life worthwhile after all.
Still, if he could choose—he really would have preferred not to go through something like this!
The instant death of the old magus left the surrounding enemies in shock. The foreign general understood: their operation had failed. It was likely that all the soldiers and magi who had stormed this castle would die here.
But a warrior has a warrior's death.
The general raised his wolf-toothed mace and aimed it at Aslan. He took a deep breath. "A warrior has his pride. That girl... she's not human, is she? Then I won't fight her to the death. If I must fall, let it be by your hand, sir. I will have no regrets."
Aslan looked at the general before him, then glanced at the soldiers trembling behind him—some with legs shaking, others already wetting themselves. He shook his head internally. Compared to this commander, these soldiers truly looked pitiful.
"Melusine, go deal with the others. I'll handle this one."
Clutching the forging hammer tightly, Aslan stepped forward. He had accepted the general's request.
The general, upon seeing Aslan's movement, gave a faint, bitter smile—yet in that smile was also a trace of relief and pride. "Thank you, sir, for granting me this honor."