Mage Legend

The Elf Queen saw the shadow flying from the horizon. She raised her hand, and a beam of light shot from her fingers, accurately illuminating Fyyian.

The Disfigurer was startled, but then he realized that the sudden spell had not caused any harm. Following the light, he saw the queen's small boat. With only a moment of shock, he directed the three Dragon Witch Demons to swoop down.

Nosta's heart was about to leap out of his throat. He immediately used the power of the Great Druid to transform into a giant Air Element. Roaring, he flew out from the window of the Holy Temple.

The three Dragon Witch Demons surrounded the queen, provocatively grinding their bony teeth with a creaking sound or using their membraned bony wings to stir the wind and blow it onto the queen's face. Yet, no matter how eager they were to tear the elf before them into shreds, until Fyyian gave the order, they could not act.

"Hello, Elf Empress, it's been a long time since we've met," Fyyian commanded one of the Dragon Witch Demons to entangle the approaching Air Element Great Druid, and continued, "I wonder why you called me here?"

"Actually, it was you who summoned me," the queen replied, "When the first smoke of war polluted the green leaves of the forest, I heard your call. Ambition, hatred, and anger, these three voices form the music most loathed by elves."

"It's just a prelude, merely a prelude," Fyyian said, "I look once again at the beautiful Holy Mountain behind you, and I can't find the right words to describe my current feelings."

"You've been away from the music of the elves for too long."

"You're right, it's been a very long time," Fyyian stomped the spine of the Dragon Witch Demon with his foot, ordering it to quiet down, then said, "Empress, frankly, do you have the confidence to protect the Heather Holy Mountain? Has that powerful magic barrier already been activated for you to appear before me?"

"As long as the elves' faith does not vanish, Heather will not be defiled. Your undead cannot enter the range of the Holy Mountain."

"Yes, my undead indeed cannot," Fyyian pulled out the Undead Magic Bead from his bosom, observing the black mist swirling inside, "This thing is actually quite simple; it gathers the souls of the deceased around, transforming them into undead. Or it stores the destroyed undead by its user. The magic barrier of Holy Land Heather is also very simple; once activated, all evil spirits except the elves will be severely damaged, even the Dragon Witch Demons cannot easily charge in."

"However!" Fyyian continued, "The souls of those dead elves can freely pass through that barrier."

After saying this, the last wisp of black mist in the Undead Magic Bead vanished. The thousands of elves who had sacrificed during the first undead attack had all turned into ghosts, standing orderly behind Fyyian. Their eyes longingly gazed at Heather Holy Mountain, knowing it was the final resting place of their souls. Yet, they tightly gripped their weapons, the ones they had wielded against the undead before their death. Once Fyyian's command was given, they would, with unwavering determination to return to that Holy Land, occupy the white peaks of Heather.

"In this case, do you still have the confidence to stop this group of undead?" Fyyian asked.

"No, it seems I have no means," the Elf Queen calmly replied.