Author's Note: There is a bug in Chapter 43, in what Fenway said, in fact, Cremar can't use teleportation spells, and the Elves of the Grey Ridge to the Silvercrown Jungle have set up a mystery lock to limit the use of teleportation spells...... In addition, I gave a name to the elven chess in the previous chapter - "Astrolabe", by the way, see the picture scroll, (this is a small astrolabe, the kind of 288 sons, Cremar and Ilda have a large astrolabe, twice its size), please read it carefully for readers with dense phobia.

The five dots that are about to be surrounded by the black part are the parts that will be eaten.,It's clear.,Numbers are the easiest.,But there are more rules for winning in newspapers.,For example,How many pieces are left in a certain direction at the end of the game.,The left pieces need to be composed of graphics or text.,And so on.。

In short, this board game is a test of both mind and luck...... This, of course, the Lich's mind is good, it's luck...... That's a little bit......

Okay, take it easy, and then there's the text.

Fenway had an indescribable expression - anxious, yes, anxious was a large part of it, and a small part of it was chagrin and regret, mixed with hatred and anger.

The mage looked inside the room, and the messenger followed his gaze, a book with a tan leather cover was sitting squarely in an open box - the latter didn't know why Cremar's spellbook was here at Fenway, perhaps they were inadvertently forgotten by the black-haired spellcaster while discussing the spell - but as far as he knew, the spellbook was a very important thing for the mage, so was it just a collection or could it be replaced?

He asks Fenway if he needs him to hand it over on his behalf, and Fenway just looks at him, so focused that he thinks he's suddenly become Ilda.

"No," said the mage at last, "no," he said in a vague voice, "since he wants me to wait—" he said, "I will wait...... But don't be in a hurry, friend," he grabbed the half-elf's wrist with a nimble disproportionate to his voice, and the messenger's hair stood on end at the action, and Fenway's hand was dry and cold, and felt like a dead branch, a snake shedding: "It's raining outside," said Fenway, "I think I should have served you a cup of tea." ”

A strong sense of foreboding seized hold of the messenger, Fenway's room was warm, dry, and filled with the smell of spices, while the rest of the room was already shrouded in icy rain, but his heart was shouting a warning and ordered him to flee immediately.

He tried to do so, but Fenway raised his hand, and a wisp of sand slipped from his clenched fist, and the messenger resisted, and Fenway flexed his fingers and gestured, and an irresistible drowsiness struck him, and he slowly collapsed against Fenway's body, one hand clutching his short sword.

Fenway stood still, listening carefully, making sure that the rain and night had helped him drive away the extra eyes and ears, and he lowered his head with unmistakable sadness on his face, "I don't want to do that," he said softly, "My friend, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time." He turned, and the invisible servant grabbed the half-elf at his silent command, and it followed him to the sealed room.

Ilda would have been amazed if she could see the room at this time, because all the contents of the room, the books, materials, and magical paraphernalia that Fenway had once treasured, had been removed, and the carpet had been rolled up against the side of the wall, replaced by a layer of demonic skin stretched to almost translucent, the skin had been treated, fat and hair, The scales had been scraped off, soaked in the acid of the black dragon, sprinkled with a mixture of saltpeter and sulfur, and turned from iron ash to bone white, it had long since detached from its master's body and lost its life, but it was still covered with fine red veins, and it would writhe and struggle from time to time, and if it hadn't been for the starry Mithril nail nailing it to the floor, it might have really escaped quietly.

The mage had already painted the demon's skin with the patterns and words he needed, and the lines of adamantite were as dense as a net, and the dragon's blood used to offer to the demons flowed in it—Fenway picked up the spell book that should have been destroyed sooner, and carefully checked it one by one, he only had one chance, and if he failed, even if he was undetected, he would no longer have the courage to face the bodies and souls that had been torn apart and destroyed.

The spell was in the mage's mind, he had memorized it a few hours earlier, and Fenway took one last look at the half-elf twitching and struggling in his forced slumber, he was one of the few close friends of Fenway, who had grown up together in Grey Ridge, studied, dined together, played and worked together—he was the one who most often sat side by side with Fenway to admire the starlight before Ilda's appearance.

But Fenway needed him to die, and that fate should have befallen the shameless hybrid of Eyya, but as Fenway had said, he had no time left—the invisible thrive's invisible fingers grabbed the half-elf's neck and hung him in the air, the pain of suffocation causing him to unconsciously swing his hands and feet in an attempt to break free from the control of sleep, and Fenway quickly took off all his clothes,** Walking towards his friend, he slit his throat without hesitation, then cut all the way down to his ribs.

Blood flowed into the prepared bottle under the effect of the spell, mixed with the blood of the first two half-elves, Fenway pulled out his heart and lungs, and the hot entrails were placed into small jars, both of which Fenway had fired himself, and in addition to the clay, there were also Adamantite, Mithril, and the blood of the devil.

Let's set the clock back a little.

While the lich was still agonizing over the pieces on the astrolabe, Demund and another mage were busy finishing their game—they stood outside the city, in an inaccessible and rocky open field, with only a vague shadow left in the White Tower in the rain and mist, and not far from them, where the Starlight River branched off, they watched the silver glittering river from which it had come and passed through the White Tower, and disappeared into the hills and plains.

"The timing was just right, my kid. A deep, rather moving voice said.

Demont bent down deeply to the man, a hundred times more respectful than he had been to his own father, who had saved him, given him strength and hope, and led him to a glimpse of magic when he was rejected by the priests of Rosada and had to go to his father's grange to watch the serfs and crops spend their lives in mediocrity.

Now, he also puts his wealth and power in front of Demon.

"I would have liked to have done something more perfect," said Demont regretfully, "but my brother has returned, and my father is almost obedient to him,"

"Fathers tend to prefer the eldest son," said his mentor, "and this is a normal thing, and you can take it as a reminder and a reminder from fate to your ears – it says it's time for you to act, then you act, and sometimes looking ahead can lead to failure." ”

"You're right. Demont said, and bowed again in convincing.

By magic, the rain kept out of the way of the Mentor and his students, their shoes, cloaks, and the ground they stepped on were clean and dry. The ogre or the giant was already soaking wet, and they were pushing each other in discontent, spitting, clutching at their filthy hair, and scrambling to climb up to a strangely shaped platform, which it said was oddly shaped because it resembled a square tray, with a thin edge slightly cocked and a thick and heavy middle, and it was suspended about three feet above the ground, and a pair of gorgeously and comically dressed gnomes ran about on tiptoe, carefully adjusting its balance and height, which was a little difficult, for every passenger who boarded it would rudely sway and fiddle。

This huge magical paraphernalia, which could carry ten giants or twenty ogres and orcs at a time, could float but still need to be pulled by external forces, and the gnomes used it as a floating saucer, but when it was sold in the White Tower, it was only exchanged for ridicule and curious onlookers, and the merchants preferred carriages and boats, and did not trust the gnomes' work very much. Only Dermon thought that it might be of other use, and he bought three of them under the pretext that he needed to study the rune disks of the gnomes, and kept them in his warehouse.

The non-human soldiers were provided by his mentor, and the Transfiguration Potion allowed them to enter the White Tower as humans, and Demon recruited them and gathered them together in the name of training - after the Archon asked them to leave, Demund took a large sum of money and took about three-fifths of the people out of the White Tower - they were originally going to another place.

All the giants, ogres, and orcs had climbed onto the platform, clutching their weapons in one hand and the firm grip on the surface of the platform in the other, as Demon had requested, and several ropes mixed with Mithril ran through the platform and into the tributaries, the other end of the rope forming a circular knot across the shoulders and chests of the snake men, and their scaly faces peeking out of the river, waiting for the order to go.

A snake man hissed at his companion, "What are they waiting for?" he asked.

They were waiting for Asmodeos, Demon's pet.

It had two pairs of large, bat-like membranous wings, which allowed it to fly and change direction like lightning, and mortals could not catch its shadow, but to them it was a small flickering black dot that could leap a hundred or two hundred feet with each flicker.

With the membranous wings folded, it was almost indistinguishable from the common, harmless little hamster, with shiny, shaggy, black, round eyes, much thicker fur than one might think, and a thin layer of wax with needle hairs, which the rain did not completely wet - but as soon as it landed on Demon's arm, it began to shake violently, shaking off the water in the face of its nominal owner.

Demont was annoyed, but he knew that with his experience and learning, there was no chance of making a pact with a little devil— His mentor had also spoken to him at length about this, and this pet had a master before, yes, the mentor recognized its master, but then for some reason its master disappeared, perhaps with a heavy blow, because Asmodeus was in pain, weak, and the connection between them had become weak, if there was nothing, and the little devil needed a master in this plane, and without a master to provide magic, he would die and return to the endless abyss. Before being forced to disappear, Asmodeos found Demon, the second son of a mortal at the time, but he did have the power that the little devil needed.

Its contract with Demund is incomplete, and it is biased towards the devil, Demun is helpless about this, he knows that Asmodeus prefers a strong ** teacher like his mentor, the problem is that the mentor already has a magic pet, stronger than Asmodeos, agile and cunning, Asmodeos was almost eaten by it when he first tried it.

But this undying fellow will still seize any opportunity he can find to flatter his mentor.

Asmodeos knew that the two casters had been waiting for a while, and the last thing they needed was verbosity, and it was clever enough to just spread its folded wings again, stand with its two hind paws, and hold its two front paws and bow respectfully to Dermon's mentor - though this bow made it look like a black brin with branches and leaves, "The foolish half-elf who thought he was clever remembered the spell," he announced. As you might expect, before I left Grey Ridge, he had killed two half-elves and tried to blame the other. ”

And the fool who was blamed, Asmodeos thought to himself, it was really strange, it actually felt a sense of familiarity, but don't joke, how could it be familiar with a half-elf mage, unless his other half of the bloodline belongs to the devil, but if there is such a thing, those elves will definitely not contain him, even if his other half of the bloodline inherits from their king.

"Then before dawn, the whole spell will be complete. The mentor said.

"And another?" asked Demon, "the blood of two half-elves is not enough. ”

"I'm sure our Fenway mage will find the third. Demon's mentor said that he held out his hand to Asmodeos, with a soul gem in his palm, and the little devil stretched his body in great excitement, ready to receive the reward himself, and he was a little flattered - but before his claws could touch the skin of his mentor, the latter's pet sprang out of the shadow of his cloak, and Asmodeios almost jumped into his open mouth.

"Go back to your master!" shouted the Mentor's pet, a venomous snake with two heads, "thief!"

Demon's mentor soothingly touched the pet's head and handed the soul gem to Demun, his disciple was trying to hide a gloating smile behind his eyes and lips, Asmodeos fled quickly, but the hair on the top of his head was still burned by the venom from the tips of the viper's fangs, and it was busy combing the hairs around it to cover the unsightly void.

The viper laughed sharply before disappearing into the shadow of his mentor.

Asmodeos thrust the soul gem into his cheek pouch in annoyance, the top of its head ached, "If my master," it muttered silently, "My master is not such a useless fellow......"

It sighed, realizing that it was missing its true owner, who was powerful despite his eccentric, temperamental, violent and moody temperament.

And generous.

Demon's mentor, of course, did not pay attention to the mind of a demon pet, and he projected the command to set off onto the snake man's head.

The elves consider the Starlight River to be their own, but even if they let go of their permissions, it would be difficult for ordinary ships to sail on the Starlight River, and the reason why the Starlight River is so angry and restless is because its riverbed is full of jutting shales, they are like layers of stairs, except for the elven ships with flying wings, what kind of ship can jump over them?

But the snake people can, the rapid whirlpools of the Starlight River are not difficult for them who grow in the sea and can fight the storm tides, and they can also change their way of traveling, where the river roars and jumps out of the stairs, their claws can insert themselves firmly into the hard rock, firmly anchor themselves to the surface of the rock and crawl steadily and quickly under the push of the scales, and where the river is deep and flat, and the force of the current is no longer so strong, they will change to swim more easily and quickly- The platform carrying the soldiers was as promised by the gnomes, and even a ten-year-old human boy could push it, and the snake people sometimes even forgot that they were still carrying a small burden, and when they moved too much, the platform would rock up and down, and a few of the less honest orcs fell, but they were quickly sent out of the water by the snake people in charge of replacing the pull, pulling the ropes thrown by their companions and climbing back to the platform.

"How long do you think it will take them to get to Grey Ridge?"

Demon's mentor asked.

Demont had calculated this countless times: "Faster than the elven ships," he said, "but even then, they will still be exposed to the morning light when they reach Grey Ridge." ”

"It doesn't matter when it matters, it's whether Fenway's spell succeeds or not—I've given the snake man orders," Demon's mentor said, "Let two of them sneak into the Grey Ridge in advance, and if they can't see what they should be, return immediately with the others, and don't stay." ”

"That's a shame. ”

"It doesn't matter," said his mentor, "that we still have the White Tower, and that's all that matters." ”

Author's Note: Don't worry if you haven't seen otherworldly souls and lichs, it's their turn to be powerful in the next chapter......