Chapter 41: Major Action

Hearing Angus's words, Merlin studied the masked man before him. Unlike the others who called him a "heretic," Angus had addressed him as a "mage," showing a distinct familiarity with magic. What he said was true as well; despite Merlin's magical abilities, he would be hard-pressed to fend off a barrage of hundreds or thousands of arrows.

"Angus, are you really so hopeless in the face of a mere heretic?" sneered another masked man, glancing at Merlin with contempt. His sword began to radiate an even more intense white light.

"Merlin, be careful—they're both third-level Light Swordsmen!" Wilson warned weakly, pressing a hand to his wound.

"Attack!" Furious that Merlin ignored him, one of the masked men charged, his sword radiating a meter-long white aura as he struck down at Merlin.

"Fireball!" Merlin's eyes flashed coldly as he extended his hand. Two fireballs shot out—not large ones, just standard fireballs. Merlin had accumulated enough magical power to cast over a dozen spells without pause. With his improved mental strength, the speed and trajectory of his fireballs had also become far more unpredictable.

"Detonate," Merlin murmured with a smirk. The fireballs exploded mid-air, engulfing the masked man in searing flames. His screams echoed through the battlefield, accompanied by the stench of burnt flesh.

The fireball's intense heat could melt even wrought iron, let alone a third-level Light Swordsman. After a few agonized cries, he fell to the ground, unmoving.

"Quero!" Angus and Reylo yelled in unison, their white auras blazing even brighter. They split up and charged Merlin from two directions.

Merlin shook his head slightly. Remembering how he had struggled against Lorin, another third-level swordsman, he now saw how much he had grown. His newfound confidence came from his refined control over magic and the marked improvement in his mental strength.

As Angus and Reylo began their approach, Merlin unleashed his Large Fireball spell.

*Hum, hum.*

A massive fireball floated before Merlin, its compressed fire elements vibrating with unstable energy.

"Detonate!" Without hesitation, Merlin triggered the fireball's explosion. The blast released a powerful shockwave, sending streams of flames in all directions. The heat wave knocked Angus and Reylo off balance, scattering fiery fragments around them.

Though they managed to resist some of the flames, both Angus and Reylo sustained injuries from the blast's force. Seizing the moment, Merlin quickly fired two more small fireballs, which streaked toward the two like ghostly missiles.

*Bang, bang.*

One fireball struck Reylo's head, burning away half of his skull. Angus tried to block the other fireball with his arm, only to have it burn a hole through his limb. Enduring the pain, he mounted his horse, attempting to flee.

"Think you can escape? Too late!" Merlin released another fireball, hitting Angus squarely in the back and leaving a gaping wound through his armor. Angus fell from his horse, lifeless.

With their three leaders defeated, the bandits fell into chaos, retreating in disarray. Seeing the opportunity, Platt led the remaining knights in a countercharge, cutting down hundreds of enemies and leaving the castle grounds littered with bodies.

Merlin didn't pursue the fleeing bandits. He helped the injured Wilson into the castle, directing the servants to begin clearing the battlefield.

Half an hour later, Platt returned with the knights, reporting to Wilson, "Baron, the bandits have been scattered and won't pose a threat for a while."

Wilson, pale from his injuries, sat up slowly, his voice icy. "Did we take any prisoners?"

Platt nodded and had several knights bring in around a dozen injured captives. The prisoners knelt before Wilson, who scrutinized them before demanding, "Tell me, what are the church's plans?"

The captives exchanged nervous glances before one finally answered, "Baron, we're not with the church. We're bandits from the borderlands between Blackmoon and the Kingdom of Light. A year ago, our leader was killed by the church's Guardian Swordsmen, and we were conscripted into this force. Apart from about two hundred core members, the rest of us are just bandits. We don't know the church's full intentions."

"But we did hear rumors about the church making major moves soon, targeting Gran City, Blackwater City, and Root City."

After finishing, the prisoners looked up at Wilson, eyes pleading for mercy.

"Take them out and execute them all," Wilson ordered coldly, his face dark. The captives were swiftly led outside and killed by Platt's men.

"Merlin, we must get back to Blackwater City as quickly as possible!" Wilson's voice was low, and his tired face was filled with urgency as he looked up at his son.