Mage Legend

"If eliminating them was that simple, I wouldn't have needed to bring you along." Lynch looked at the vast wetlands in front of him: "If I say that those undead haven't left scouts in this place, would you believe it?"

Zilvra shaded her eyes with her hand and peered ahead. What she saw was a beautiful natural landscape with nothing unusual in sight, even when she squinted.

"I haven't spotted any supposed scouts, but I am sure they must have them," Zilvra said. "Given the ghost's mobility, they can emerge from the ground at any time and then quickly retreat. It's indeed hard to guard against."

"So, you have another very challenging task." Lynch beckoned Zilvra over and whispered his plan in her ear.

After hearing the mage's suggestion, Zilvra frowned deeply: "If we were in the Dark Elf City, I would think this was a trap, a scheme to entrap me. But the circumstances are different now..."

"This matter indeed has its dangers," Lynch said. "It's merely a precaution, not an essential part of the plan. If you don't want to take this risk or aren't confident in this plan, you certainly don't have to participate."

"I never said that," Zilvra excitedly licked her lips, her eyes gleaming like a predator spotting its prey: "Honestly, being among those elves makes me uncomfortable, and now is an opportunity to relax a bit."

"Then be careful with everything," Lynch softly said. "Safety first."

"Are the undead more dangerous than the drow?" Zilvra waved her hand: "Don't forget, they were just cannon fodder at our disposal."

Lynch said no more, walking alone toward the center of the Residual Star Swamp. His eyes constantly scanned for any movement around him, and he stepped lightly, his black robe gliding over the still water, leaving a trail of ripples. Zilvra stood at the edge of the wetlands, watching Lynch's solitary departure, always feeling that something was missing beside that black-clad figure.

"Missing me, a former Dark Elf." Zilvra thought for a moment and found the answer.

The mage softly chanted a spell. In front of him, a silver Light Sphere inscribed with runes rotated slowly, the power of the Magic Origin continuously conveying to Lynch's presence. With his current ability, he couldn't directly use this vast power to enhance his own spell capability, but it could serve as a mediating station, allowing his magic scrolls or Magic Items to extend their time and enhance their effects. Given enough time, he could gradually alter everything around him.

On the surface, the Residual Star Swamp showed no changes. Only some small insects sensed the fluctuation of magic energy, attracted, fluttering around the black-robed mage. But they couldn't get too close, as a strong repelling force surged outwards with the cadence of Lynch's spell incantations.

The ground beneath the mage's feet seemed to gain breathing abilities, rising and falling continuously. Bubbles emerged one after another from the moist soil. Centering around Lynch, the entire land was undergoing transformation. The mage's ultimate goal was to turn this land, initially devoid of Erutalon Holy Water abilities, into a trap to deal with the undead army.

Zilvra quietly hid in the grass, watching the surroundings intently. Following the mage's guidance, several skeletons soaking in the swamp water in the distance caught her attention. Originally, Zilvra thought they might be the remains of creatures that drowned on this land, but Lynch pointed out that in this elf-exclusive realm, where could such clumsy creatures have died in the Residual Star Swamp? Furthermore, the strangest point was, relative to elves who showed great respect towards the dead and death, why would they let corpses lie exposed in broad daylight without caring?

There was only one explanation: those corpses were merely members of the undead army, skeletons still capable of movement.

Lynch's spell continued, the lengthy incantation seemingly never-ending. Various colored light bands swirled around him, and the strong wind blowing from beneath his robe made the surrounding low grass nod incessantly; the crackling sounds gradually rose, providing a rhythm to the mage's song-like magic.