George threw the rag to the ground, his gaze locked directly onto Leopold.
“You see, their Elder won't even show his face. They send a few representatives who talk big about cooperation, but in reality, they're just using us to fight their battles.”
“Ha? Our situation is dire, and we are only doing this to survive. What right do you have to stand there and criticize us?” Adele retorted in annoyance.
George opened his mouth to retort, but Leopold glared him back into silence.
“Both of you, quiet down.”
George and Adele shut their mouths at the same time, their gazes snapping to Leopold.
“Both of you are speaking the truth. And because both of you are right, this argument of yours will lead nowhere.”
“Adele, the representatives from the settlements will return tomorrow to continue negotiations. I will leave the talks regarding the forest canyon entirely to you and Isabella.”
Adele lowered her eyes and remained quiet for a moment before closing the book on her lap. “I understand. First thing tomorrow morning, I will compile the details regarding the settlements and hand them over to Isabella.”
“Bella will go with you,” Leopold said offhandedly. “With her there, nothing should go too wrong with the negotiations.”
Adele nodded, asking no further questions.
“Alright, it's getting late. Everyone go back and get some sleep!” Leopold turned and walked toward the hunter's cabin. These past few days had indeed been exhausting.
With construction on the village school having begun, he had successfully gathered the leaders of the various villages, and the training was progressing normally.
In short, humanity was finally showing signs of uniting once more.
Leopold pushed open the door to the hunter's cabin. No lights were lit inside; moonlight filtered through the window panes, illuminating several maps spread across the table.
Isabella sat by the table, quietly waiting for him.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Not too long.” She looked up at him. “How did the talks go?”
Leopold closed the door behind him and sat down at the table. “The conditions proposed by the settlement representatives aren't too unreasonable. They're highly cautious, but we can still negotiate.”
“The sorcerers from the swamp still refuse to show themselves,” Isabella said, rising and walking to the window.
The bright moonlight bathed her long hair, making it hard to tell where the moonlight ended and her silver hair began.
“I have a general understanding of the situation in the swamp, but that stronghold has been isolated from the world for a long time. The specific conditions they require for negotiations are likely known only to their Elder.”
“The swamp faction's refusal to state their stance—what does that show?” Leopold walked over to Isabella's side.
Isabella turned around from the window. “It means he is waiting. Waiting for us to show our hand, or waiting for us to show weakness.”
“Exactly. Bella is so smart!”
“Then, since Isabella guessed right, is there a reward?” Isabella tilted her head, her ice-blue eyes reflecting the bright, clear moonlight.
Leopold was momentarily taken aback by her words.
“...Well, a reward isn't entirely out of the question.”
“What reward?”
“What do you want to eat? I'll have the village chief's family prepare an extra portion tomorrow.”
Isabella didn't reply, only staring at him with slight annoyance. After a few seconds, she let out a soft huff, turned back around, and resumed staring at the moonlit night outside the window.
“You think you can dismiss me with just a single meal?”
“Of course not. What kind of reward do you want? Let's get one thing straight first: if you want the stars in the sky, I can't pluck them down for you.”
“You can be such a wet blanket sometimes,” Isabella sighed helplessly.
“A wet blanket?”
“I ask you for a reward, and you talk to me about food?” She withdrew her hands and looked back out the window. “How can there be a dragon as foolish as you?”
Just as Leopold was about to say something else, a flurry of hurried footsteps came from outside, followed by a frantic knocking on the door.
“Sir! Are you there?”
It was Oliver's voice.
Leopold walked over and pulled the door open. Oliver stood outside, clutching a few pages of paper in his hand, still panting heavily.
“I found it!”
“What?”
“The graymist troll!” Oliver handed over the pages, which were covered in dense writing. “I went through the notebook my father left behind. There's an entry in there that matches what George described.”
“The graymist troll is a product of ancient times.” Oliver stood by the door, lighting the oil lamp in the room.
“According to the records, during the ancient war between the Demon Race and the elves, this was a troll summoned by the Demon Race—a terrifying troll used for war!”
Leopold's gaze swept down the writing. The handwriting in the notebook wasn't very neat, but the records were highly detailed.
“It relies on spiritual light to maintain its existence.”
“Exactly.” Oliver nodded. “My father speculated in his notes that this giant beast has no physical form of its own; it requires spiritual light as fuel. The denser the spiritual light, the more stable its physical form becomes, and the stronger its power.”
“That explains why the Lord of the Black Tide is capturing people everywhere.” Isabella walked over from the window. “He's gathering spiritual light to feed this troll.”
“Did your father write down how to deal with this thing in his notes?”
Standing by the table, Oliver's face was slightly pale. “He did, but the method... isn't very easy.”
“Go on.”
Oliver swallowed hard. “The troll's physical form requires spiritual light to sustain itself. If its spiritual light is depleted, it will fall into a slumber. As long as we cut off the supply of spiritual light, it will vanish.”
“According to my father's records, to defeat it in a head-on confrontation, it would require at least the strength of a Five-Star Grand Mage...”
Leopold fell into thought. A dragon's strength after their first slumber was roughly equivalent to a Four-Star Mage by elven standards, and only after undergoing their second slumber would they match a Six-Star Mage Saint.
Although dragons also possessed physical strength advantages, purely in terms of magical capability, this comparison was indeed accurate.
But... Oliver clearly possessed the level of a Six-Star Mage Saint! Even though his total mana pool wasn't very abundant, Oliver's control and manipulation of mana were extremely exquisite, one could even say it had reached a state of perfection.
To be able to increase and strengthen one's mana capacity to such an extent in such a short period obviously required diligent practice and superb talent.
This was also why Leopold could tell at a glance that Oliver possessed the level of a Six-Star Mage Saint.
Leopold lifted his gaze from the notes and let it fall on Oliver.
Oliver took half a step back under his gaze. “S-Sir?”
“Oliver, if I remember correctly, you have the strength of a Six-Star Mage Saint, don't you?”
Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it, only squeezing out a sentence after a long pause: “...Theoretically, yes.”
“What do you mean by 'theoretically'?”
“I can cast Six-Star spells, but my total mana pool isn't enough to support a prolonged battle. In other words, my actual strength is around Five-and-a-Half Stars. If the fight drags on, I might not even have the strength of a Five-Star...”
“After all, only half of my bloodline comes from the elves, so my total mana pool really can't compare to normal people...”
“It's fine. As the saying goes, don't put all your eggs in one basket.” Leopold smiled, snapping his fingers before continuing.
“When the time comes, Blake will cover you. You will work with the village's joint forces to try and defeat the graymist troll and the demon army head-on.”
“Remember, you must conserve your mana and try to defeat the enemy in a single blow!”
“Then, Isabella and I will find the Lord of the Black Tide and destroy the troll's supply of spiritual light!”
Listening to this, Isabella frowned and couldn't help but speak up:
“But the Lord of the Black Tide is also extremely powerful himself. I'm afraid the two of us alone won't be a match for him.”
She was right. Given the presence the Lord of the Black Tide exuded that day, even if he and Isabella joined forces, they might not necessarily gain the upper hand.
But...
Leopold suddenly grabbed Isabella's shoulders and said with utmost seriousness:
“You are a Holy Light White Dragon! Holy Light magic is the ultimate counter to the Abyssal Demon Race!”
Isabella opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, she merely lowered her eyes and gave a soft, quiet, “Mhm.”
She was still worried. After all, this was a life-threatening decision.
Leopold took all of this in and smiled slightly. He pulled the only two remaining magic cores from his pocket.
And among those two magic cores, one was shockingly a magic core of the Holy Light White Dragon lineage!
Rate on N.U.
