Wizard Bloodline

"It seems this person is truly important to Lady Soraya."

The group's gaze naturally shifted to the figure not far away, squinting as they scrutinized him.

"He certainly has the kind of face that would appeal to all the women of the Kachin family. If he possesses the true Kachin bloodline, it's no wonder Lady Soraya values him so highly."

"A lone male heir from the Kachin family, deeply favored by Lady Soraya."

The silver-haired, round-faced youth turned to a girl in the group with long, wavy, light purple hair, fair skin, and delicate features wearing a blue dress. He half-jokingly remarked, "Jenny, maybe you should try to get close to him. If possible, bring him into our little circle. A newcomer with such a powerful mid-third-level wizard backing, who might even become the leader of the Kachin family, is worth befriending."

The purple-haired girl toyed with a slender white staff, her delicate, pale fingers adorned with exquisite gemstone rings.

"But he's not my type... and he seems a bit stern, not the easiest to get along with."

"Isn't that the perfect opportunity to showcase your charm?" the red-haired youth beside her laughed. The purple-haired girl huffed softly, tilting her smooth chin upward, proudly displaying her long, elegant neck.

The group chatted lightheartedly, not overly concerned about the clash of powers happening not far away. Occasionally, they glanced over.

With four third-level wizards involved, even a third-level magical beast with ancient bloodlines was destined to fall.

Suddenly, a Fredrick family wizard in a gray robe hurriedly approached, whispering something gravely.

The silver-haired youth's expression changed, blurting out, "Black robes? Where did the black-robed wizards come from? And in such numbers!

Was the Ababurk family asleep? How could they only now discover such a large group of black robes breaching the rune array?"

The mention of "black robes" immediately shattered the group's relaxed atmosphere, leaving their expressions tense and serious.

"Why would black robes appear now? They must be after the third-level Frost-scaled Python too! We must alert the ancestors!"

"The ancestor is already aware and wants us to decide... I propose we immediately aid the Ababurk family; they're under attack by the black robes!"

"Why bother with them? What good would aiding them do? If something goes wrong and the hunt fails, I bet they'd be the first to blame us!"

"The three families have a pact. If we don't deal with the black robes within the array, they might disrupt the hunt... This is a test from the ancestor!"

"Either way, I disagree!"

"Varintz, don't you want the Ancient Ice Crystal Serpent's talents?"

"..."

Unable to reach consensus, the group's discussion devolved into a heated argument, each person trying to persuade the others.

Just then, an unusual sound interrupted, coming from a nearby direction.

The noise resembled countless fragments of ice clashing together, sharp and urgent, carrying a strong sense of warning.

The group's expressions shifted immediately upon hearing it, but the sound abruptly ceased, followed by faint hints of spellcasting.

Nearby Fredrick family wizards rushed toward the sound, but before they could get far, a black energy pillar composed of countless small black droplets struck one, swallowing them whole. They fell like a stone, dead silent.

Witnessing this, everyone froze.

Before they could react, ghostly black-robed figures emerged from all directions.

The air filled with the intense aura of dark spells, spiritual energy waves radiating violently, marking the beginning of a chaotic battle between Fredrick family ice wizards and mysterious dark-robed wizards!

"It's those black robes!"

The silver-haired youth roared, quickly preparing for battle.

Their small group was immediately targeted by a pale-skinned, black-lipped black-robe wizard radiating mid-second-level spiritual power.

The silver-haired youth tore off a transparent armlet, hurling it forward.

The armlet activated, unleashing a series of icy rings, cutting terrifying paths through the air, but before reaching their opponent, a conjured black scythe spell sliced them apart.

Beside him, the red-haired youth chanted rapidly, summoning a biting blizzard. But the icy storm was quickly consumed by a wave of black energy, vanishing in an instant.

The black-lipped black-robe wizard displayed immense power, nearing late-second-level, effortlessly countering their combined spells.

He loomed like a dense shadow, occupying the sky, exerting oppressive pressure on them.

All felt the urge to retreat, especially the purple-haired girl, her face pale, hands trembling around her slender staff.

Glancing around, the battle seemed one-sided, with Fredrick family wizards falling back under the black robes' assault, offering little resistance.

The group struggled against the powerful black robe, inadvertently spotting a figure slipping away, prompting one to curse under their breath, "Kachin men really are just pretty faces!"

"Bah!"

Ronan frowned, observing the chaotic scene.

He had been watching Soraya's hunt for the third-level Frost-scaled Python, but in the blink of an eye, a group of black-robed wizards appeared, clashing with the Fredrick family wizards.

These black-robed wizards wore plain black robes, devoid of any insignia, leaving their affiliation unknown.

Well-trained and powerful, mostly second-level wizards or higher, with some mid-second-level, the White Stone Castle ice wizards were no match, scattered like sheep before wolves.

Ronan hesitated briefly, then decided to retreat quickly.

His position was advantageous; the black-robed wizards approached from the forest's far side, allowing him to withdraw easily.

Ronan had no intention of intervening.

He wasn't sure if the black robes were targeting White Stone Castle wizards for revenge or also seeking the third-level Frost-scaled Python.

The former seemed more likely; if they sought the ancient-blooded Python, they'd head toward the third-level battlefield.

Ronan considered informing Soraya, then finding a safe spot or moving closer to her group.

Suddenly.

"Flap—"

The sound of wings flapping reached Ronan's ears.

The flapping intensified, and from the snow-white forest emerged small black dots.

The dots grew into black-winged crows.

They circled the battleground, crimson eyes coldly observing the fight, like silent spectators, perhaps awaiting a heralded arrival.

Ronan paused, feeling a strange unease.

A battle between first and second-level wizards, the chaotic spellcasting and energy fluctuations, had long driven away all nearby life.

Birds shouldn't dare approach...

Ronan recalled something, his movements slowing unconsciously.

"Buzz—"

Moments after the crows appeared, a peculiar energy ripple spread through the chaotic battlefield.

A figure shrouded in black smoke, face and form hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hooded cloak, silently emerged.

As this figure appeared, the vast battlefield fell silent, and the sky dimmed slightly.

He was like a black sun, absorbing all surrounding light.

The silent crows began croaking hoarsely, as if singing praises for the figure's arrival.

The mysterious black-cloaked figure moved through the field, appearing behind a Fredrick family core group member in the blink of an eye.

He casually extended a hand, like greeting an old friend, patting the second-level wizard's shoulder.

None noticed his actions.

The wizard's energy shield shattered silently, the pale hand gently landing on their shoulder, sending them plummeting like a stone, fate unknown.

The group finally reacted, one crying out in alarm, "Varintz!"

They scattered in shock and fear while the black-cloaked figure stood silently. The black-lipped wizard, who had pressured the Fredrick group single-handedly, halted, respectfully appearing beside the cloaked figure, whispering, "My lord."

Meanwhile.

Across the battlefield.

Ronan watched the scene unfold, eyes fixed on the tall, imposing figure, murmuring a name.

"Anglair."

Ronan's whisper crossed the battlefield, instantly sensed by the figure.

He jerked his head up, eyes like blades beneath the cloak, locking onto Ronan.

Their eyes met.

Half a breath later, Ronan seemed to see—beneath the light-devouring cloak, a pair of deep, wine-red eyes slowly brightened, a malevolent face grinning.

He seemed to say—"So... it's you."

"Thud!—"

Ronan's heart thumped violently.

"Thud! Thud!—"

Faster and faster.

Ronan remained expressionless, calmly observing the shadowed figure.

"Anglair."

He repeated the name.

Something within him stirred, his blood warming slightly.

[This land is too barren and rotten, everything so dull.]

[Don't die before we meet again.]

[I'll find you and seal your soul in a toilet...]

[This should suit you, given your potential.]

[They call me—Flock of Ravens Passing, Anglair.]

Every image, every word Anglair had spoken replayed in Ronan's mind like a whirlwind.

He never forgot that name, often recalling it.

He remembered when this man appeared before him like a black sun.

Lofty, gazing down, smiling, viewing him like a newfound toy.

Ronan felt his emotions toward Anglair weren't hatred, perhaps even gratitude—

Grateful he hadn't squashed him like an ant in the Corpse Garden.

Grateful for the special potion that helped him break through to official wizard.

Grateful for leaving such a profound, indelible shadow in his heart.

Grateful for making him feel despair, helplessness, and the whims of fate for the first time.

Grateful for the obsession that became a source of strength, sustaining him through countless painful days and nights.

Ronan closed his eyes, thoughts and emotions churning.

Quickly, these complex feelings coalesced into one voice—

Defeat him!

Defeat him!

Stand before him, defeat him, and declare that you are no longer the ant to be crushed!

Ronan's eyes snapped open, shining with unparalleled light.

He abandoned thoughts of leaving, calmly heading back to the battlefield.

The shadowed figure crossed his arms, head tilted, watching Ronan with keen interest.

Ronan walked steadily toward the black-cloaked figure.

"Anglair."

He uttered the name for the third time.

Countless times he had fantasized and longed for this reunion with Anglair.

Now it was finally happening.