Chapter 118: The Witch and The Devil.

"Dyryn kynsyr evan krysar nullyn drathyn. Solanith thryllyn dyryn kynsyr evan krysar," Artika chanted a spell in a language that only witches could understand.

Artika's hands suddenly melted and it looked painful to those who watched her hands that had become bones. The hands suddenly got wrapped in black mists that came out of her wrists. Her hands looked like something that a demon would have, and not to mention the hands kept dripping blood.

"Vyrathen velor vyrith aeris kresynd nullyn drathyn kynsyr kathyn," Artika muttered under her breath, and suddenly the bright daylight turned into dark red in an instant.

At that moment, Grandwell's heart was racing, and felt the most ominous aura that he had ever felt in his whole life. He knew that he had to use everything he had to fight the young woman in front of him. He didn't expect that he would fight with everything he had again after decades of laying low and hiding.