Chapter 65 Hearing their words
He had blonde hair like Lilith, but his eyes were brown and his skin was tanned in contrast to Lilith's milky complexion.
Hearing their words, Morton smiled, patted their heads, and said, "Silly kids, I am very powerful."
'Next, it's your turn to run. But... I probably can't go any further with you...' the old mage thought as he sighed inwardly.
The only consolation was that the two children inherited his talent and were able to cast simple first-level spells at the age of six, and all were evocation spells with considerable power.
With their excellent magical equipment, as long as they didn't encounter top ice field predators like white dragons or winter wolves, they might find his friend on their own successfully.
Lilith clenched her tiny fists and said happily, "Grandpa Morton is the best; you can drive those bad guys away, and we can go home."
Amos, unlike his naive sister, noticed Morton's slightly melancholic and forced expression. He knew things wouldn't be as easy as Morton said.
Otherwise, why wait until now to decide to fight head-on?
The little boy gritted his teeth, silent, with a burning flame of revenge igniting in his heart.
Time passed silently, and soon two figures appeared on the horizon. Both were men, looking around forty, with wise eyes and bodies radiating elemental light.
One man said solemnly, "Morton, hand over the Lava Key, and we will spare your lives, provided you never set foot in the Southern Nations again and sign a contract under the God of Light's witness to never seek revenge on Mocha Principality."
The high-ranking mage of the enchantment school, with a strange gleam in his eyes, sent an invisible mental force toward the old mage.
Morton stood still, raising a magical barrier to block the opponent's underhanded enchantment spell.
'Time is merciless; my era had passed...' Morton thought self-mockingly.
The two unfamiliar high-ranking mages acted as if they had already won, showing no fear or respect.
In the past, any mage of the same rank would have shown deep fear in front of him.
Without a word, Morton made the children stay close, removing a ring from his finger, and solemnly handed it to Amos, whispering a few words with a message spell.
The next moment, the old mage's expression changed, becoming solemn, heavy, and slightly fanatical, as he chanted an obscure incantation...
If any of his old friends or enemies saw Morton's expression, they would have run immediately instead of staying, but the two high-ranking mages only cautiously cast many counter-spells and layered numerous shields.
A bright pea-sized fireball appeared at the tip of Morton's staff, aimed at the men.
A third-ring Fireball?
The two high-ranking mages looked at each other, as Morton's casting actions resembled Fireball.
But they knew Morton couldn't be casting a mere third-ring Fireball, so they cautiously added more defensive spells.
Then, the old mage's eyes gleamed with fanatical excitement, his face suddenly withered, pale as paper.
He burned his life and spirit so that his magic poured out like a flood, pouring into the small fireball in an overloaded state, continuously and endlessly.
A ninth-level spell: Great Sun Fireball.
More precisely, Morton's Great Sun Fireball.
He had stopped at the seventh ring, but his mind had constructed more than one eighth and ninth-ring spell model, all high-level Fireball variants.
The price of casting it was his life.
"Please give my regards to my useless son."
The old mage smiled wryly, his already aged face seeming to age another ten years instantly, like a flickering candle.
At the same time, under the horrified gaze of the two high-ranking mages, the small fireball at the tip of Morton's staff soared into the sky, instantly appearing beside them, expanding into a dazzling small sun, engulfing them completely.
Layers of shields shattered, spells failed... The massive fireball rolled and shone, lighting up the sky like the sun.
Below, Morton looked up, his gaze calm, quietly admiring the artistic spell's brilliance. At the same time, he used his last bit of magic to form a shield around the children, protecting them from the fireball's residual heat.
The children, immersed in the spell's brilliance, did not notice Morton's condition.
Using his staff for support, he barely stood. His eyes gradually lost focus, reflecting the flames, his pupils slowly dilating.
