Mage Legend-Chapter 321: Episode 18 Spy

"If it were as simple as killing on sight, I wouldn’t have brought you along." Lynch looked at the vast wetlands in front of him. "Would you believe it if I said those undead creatures haven’t left any scouts for reconnaissance in this place?"

Zilvra placed her hand on her forehead and looked ahead. The landscape was a beautiful natural scene, with no apparent abnormalities. Even when she squinted, she couldn’t find anything suspicious.

"I haven’t found the so-called scouts, but I’m sure they have them." Zilvra said, "With the maneuverability of ghosts, they can emerge from underground at any time and retreat quickly. It’s indeed hard to guard against."

"That’s why you have another arduous task." Lynch waved Zilvra over and whispered his plan into her ear.

After hearing the mage’s suggestion, Zilvra frowned. "If this were in the Dark Elf City, I would consider it a trap, a conspiracy to frame me. But the situation is different now..."

"Indeed, there’s a risk to this." Lynch said, "This is merely a precaution, not an essential part of the plan. If you don’t want to take the risk or don’t see the plan’s advantage, you don’t have to participate."

"I didn’t say that." Zilvra licked her lips excitedly, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "To be honest, always staying amidst those elves makes me uncomfortable, and this is a great opportunity to relax a bit."

"Then, be careful." Lynch said softly, "Safety first, above all else."

"Could the undead be more dangerous than the Drow?" Zilvra waved her hand, "Don’t forget, they were nothing more than cannon fodder for us to command."

Lynch said no more, walking alone towards the center of the Residual Star Swamp. His eyes constantly watched his surroundings, stepping lightly, his black robe gently gliding over the calm water, leaving behind a trail of ripples. Zilvra stood at the edge of the forest border of the wetland, watching Lynch’s solitary figure disappear, feeling as if something was missing beside that black silhouette.

"It’s me, a former Dark Elf." Zilvra thought, finding the answer.

The mage chanted softly. Before him, a silver light sphere inscribed with runes slowly rotated, and the power of the Magic Origin continuously flowed to Lynch. At his current capacity, he couldn’t directly use such massive energy to enhance his spellcasting abilities, but he could use it as an intermediary station, allowing his spell scrolls or magic items to extend their duration and enhance their effects. Given enough time, he could slowly alter everything around him.

On the surface, the Falling Star Swamp showed no sign of change. Only some small insects sensed the fluctuations of magic energy, attracted and fluttering around the black-robed mage. Yet they couldn’t get too close; a powerful repelling force emanated with Lynch’s rhythmic chanting, spreading like waves.

The ground beneath the mage’s feet seemed to gain the ability to breathe, undulating continuously. Bubbles rose one after another from the moist soil. Centered around Lynch, the entire land was undergoing transformation, with the mage’s ultimate goal being to turn the Falling Star Swamp, originally devoid of Erutalon Holy Water capabilities, into a trap against the undead army.

Zilvra quietly hid in the grass, observing the surroundings intently. According to the mage’s guidance, a few skeletons soaking in the swamp water in the distance caught her attention. Initially, Zilvra thought they might be remnants of creatures that drowned in this land, but Lynch pointed out that in this elf-populated realm, where would such clumsy creatures die in the Falling Star Swamp? Moreover, the strangest thing is, for elves who respect the deceased and death deeply, how could they watch as bodies lay exposed under the sun without tending to them?

There’s only one explanation: that carcass is merely a member of the undead army, a skeleton that still possesses mobility.

Lynch’s magic continued to be cast, the lengthy spell seemed endless. Various colored light ribbons floated around him, and the wind blowing from beneath his robe made the short grass around him continually nod; crackling sounds gradually emerged, setting the rhythm for the mage’s song-like magic.

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦