Chapter 732: Chapter 372-2
"Enough."
Perhaps sensing the expressions of the two Level 5 Wizards, the handsome young man with blue and golden gradient short hair was slightly serious, and he said solemnly, "Stop fooling around. This is not Spirit Lake, after all. Everyone, keep your spirits up and stay vigilant."
The noise within the group gradually died down.
But soon, someone murmured again.
"That damn Damien doesn’t respond to any communication. Does he know we’re planning to revoke his qualification for participating in the Trial of the Stone of Destiny under the pretense of assistance?"
"Or maybe he’s already dead in this waterway. After all, he came in alone and only has Level 4 strength..."
"That would be too bad. Someone like Damien could die anywhere, but if because of him, Misha misses the Deep Knowledge Crown, his soul should be suppressed in the Deep Sea, never to find peace..."
Hearing this, Misha’s brow slightly furrowed, clearly worried about this possibility.
Thinking of this, Misha couldn’t help but take out a blue pebble, crush it quickly in his hand, and a water-blue pigeon flew out quickly, disappearing in no time.
Before this, he had tried this method more than three times to contact Damien, who had entered the waterway long ago.
Just as Misha sent out the communication tool, a low voice of inquiry came to his ears.
"Speaking of which, Misha."
A mature-looking Level 5 Wizard squinted his eyes and spoke slowly, "I’m really curious, how did you lose to Ronan Damien in the last selection of the Son of the Deep Sea?
As far as I know, you have a soul contract of absolute loyalty and obedience with him, right?"
With the questioning voice, pairs of curious eyes turned towards him.
Misha’s eye twitched slightly, as if to say he couldn’t possibly explain to others: he personally asked Ronan Damien to launch the strongest offensive against him, and the other party just happened to have monstrously terrifying strength, capable of crushing a typical Level 5 existence head-on?
"Shut up, Marlon."
Misha spoke coldly, "I invited you to join the team because I valued your experience and strength, not your useless and damn curiosity."
The Level 5 Wizard named Marlon, hearing Misha’s response, didn’t get angry; he just smiled and obediently closed his mouth.
As the atmosphere in the team became slightly awkward, suddenly, bursts of fierce whistling sounds echoed from the waterway in all directions, accompanied by cold and powerful spiritual power.
In an instant, everyone’s faces changed dramatically in the team. As a bald man with a face full of black spikes and a grim expression appeared with people in ghost-like black robes, someone cried out in a distorted voice, "Witch Heart Hall?!"
In just a moment, the previously relaxed and comfortable atmosphere was completely washed away, leaving only the heavy and oppressive effect of the rolling sinister and deceitful aura.
Misha’s eyes showed panic, but remembering his role as the leader, he quickly forced himself to remain calm, stepped forward, and questioned, "What do you want?"
"I heard them call you..."
Dias touched his bald head and said slowly, "You’re Misha?"
"So what if I am?"
"How many Mishas are there in Spirit Lake Deep Sea?"
Misha was taken aback, then chuckled, "Nonsense, of course there’s only one.
That’s me..."
Misha stepped forward, as if the protagonist was naturally born with some sort of aura, and said proudly, "Misha Tilion!"
"Then it must be you."
Dias’ face slowly broke into a smile, "The one I’m looking for... is you."
Misha was stunned, not yet registering what was happening, when his pupils suddenly contracted, and a tide of dense blackness rapidly expanded in his eyes...
"Boom! Bang! Bang!"
The sounds of spell clashes and explosions were incessant, with energy surging, accompanied by continuous screams.
The entire battle lasted less than the time of an hourglass.
When everything calmed down, the Wizards wearing deep blue magic robes of Spirit Lake Deep Sea were all lying on the ground in disarray, each with immense fear and pain on their faces, like a group of terrified and uneasy small beasts collectively falling into a hunter’s trap.
"Gurgling——"
A thin and slender young figure was tightly gripped by a powerful large hand around the throat, hanging in the air, his handsome face purple-red from suffocation, making a strange squeezing sound from the bottom of his throat.
"Too weak..."
Dias clutched Misha’s neck with one hand, his tongue sliding like a snake’s over his lips, and he shook his head slowly, "It’s almost no different from being waste.
I really don’t know how that idiot Urian had an arm severed by a waste like you..."
Misha widened his eyes, struggling to speak, as if trying to explain something.
But Dias quickly figured it out himself, tilting his head, muttering to himself, "Seems like Urian was completely played... that fool, losing an arm without even knowing the opponent’s true identity...
Ha, the next time we meet, I have something to mock him with."
Dias displayed a chilling smile, then casually tossed Misha aside like discarding a useless piece of trash.
Without another look at the person at his feet, he gave a light call, leading the Wizards of Witch Heart Hall to merge into the surrounding shadows, quickly vanishing.
"Hah- Hah-"
Misha knelt on the ground, supporting himself with one hand, gasping heavily with the other.
He clenched his teeth, fists tightened, nails almost digging into his flesh.
Humiliation, shame, confusion, and deep apprehension.
Like toxic vines, they clung tightly to his heart at that moment.
From childhood to adulthood, when had he ever encountered such a situation?!
"Damn it! Damn it! Truly damn..."
Misha let out a beast-like low roar, venting his emotions to the ground.
After a long time, he finally calmed down a bit, slowly climbing up from the ground.
At this moment, Misha’s face was frighteningly dark. As he glanced over his injured subordinates, his expression became even more grim.
"Where’s Marlon and the others?"
"As the battle began... they... they ran!"
"Hiss——"
Misha took a deep breath, his hanging hands clenching tightly into fists.
He closed his eyes, silently chanting the prophecy that had supported him throughout, "I am Misha. My name is destined to resonate on lands beyond Spirit Lake!"
Finally, the furious emotion gradually subsided.
Misha regained his composure, organized his thoughts, and quickly issued commands, barely pulling the team back together.
The two Level 5 Wizards invited to assist both fled because of a group of Wizards from Witch Heart Hall who appeared out of nowhere, leaving only a bunch of dispirited and useless "waste" subordinates...
Misha was fuming, contemplating his next move.
Finally, some good news came.
"Misha!"
The wizard responsible for scouting ran up with great excitement to report, "I’ve encountered Wizards from the Ghost Light Association, led by a Level 5 Wizard.
I mentioned your name and the situation, and they willingly said they’d come to see if they could help..."
"Really?!"
Misha’s eyes lit up, joy spreading across his face as he jumped up from the resting rock.
"Ghost Light Association, huh... I think I’ve heard of this group’s name."
Misha perked up, saying, "Where are they now? Take me to them."
"No need, we’ve already arrived."
Misha had just finished speaking when a gloomy voice responded.
Looking towards the direction of the voice, he saw Wizards with crystal stones embedded in their robe shoulders emerging from the darkness like smoke and mist.
Leading them was a middle-aged man with a deep and scheming face.
As soon as he appeared, his eyes fell on Misha, filled with an inexplicable meaning.
"You are Misha?"
The man spoke.
"Yes."
"How many Mishas are there in Spirit Lake?"
Misha was taken aback, feeling the question sounded familiar.
"Of course, there’s only one."
He replied with a frown.