(Two chapters in one)

Fenway is unaware of the looming darkness.

He flipped through the book of spells, the words on which they were not so much trembling as they were dancing, singing loudly, in the rough and hoarse language of the abyss, with a frenzied beat, mixed with occasional shouts, and they vented their joy and hatred to the fullest—for the coming calamity. Unfortunately, their only listener could not understand the underlying meaning, and he blamed it on hallucinations or tinnitus from nervousness and exhaustion—everything was ready, and what was left of the messenger had been taken out and discarded by the invisible servants— Ilda and the other elves were chasing the shapeshifters that Fenway had exchanged, and would not return until the glory of Rosada filled the forest, by which time his spells had been successful, the traces had been cleaned, and the evil spellbook and the remaining materials had been destroyed.

The first to be thrown into the circle were the entrails of the half-elves, except for the heart, which was not the material needed for the spell, but a sacrifice thrown to the demons, and as the demon's skin rose and fell in satisfaction, muttering and squirming to engulf these entrails, Fenway began to recite the long incantation that had been firmly in his mind, and every syllable he spat out took away a little of his energy and left a white hole in his memory.

The caster needs to give it his all to not be controlled by the fear that the spell might fail, there is no room for him to retreat, and he doesn't want to retreat, he is used to hating and despising himself for a long time long before he makes his decision.

The entrails were eaten in a moment, the demon's skin did not leave a single blood stain on the mucous membranes, it still looked so bright and silky, the lines of the adamantite were not contaminated, the caster took out the blood of the first half-elf, the spell book said that purebred blood is the best, but half-blooded blood can also be used - if it didn't say so, Fenway might have destroyed it in the first place.

Genie is different.

He poured the blood from the bottle into the circle, it was still hot, red and shiny, as if it had just burst out of the heart, the rich fishy smell with the sweet smell of honey, the demon's skin screamed excitedly, constantly wrinkled and dented, trying to swallow as much blood as possible in the shortest time, the veins that crisscrossed it became thin and fat, the flow of liquid tended to be clean, it was almost greedy to eat, but it was not a sacrifice, it was a material- Fenway picked up the whip of the devil's fingernails and tentacles, which he had prepared according to the spellbook, and whipped the bone-white skin vigorously until it became submissive—eating only the dregs, leaving behind the pure blood of the elves.

Fenway hurried to pour the second and third vials of blood into the circle—the blood could fill two eight-liter glass bottles, but in the circle, it was like pouring a small glass of water into the sun-scorched sand, and it was gone with a snort.

The mage recited the next incantation, sprinkling the devil's black blood evenly on the demon's skin, and the two old rivals immediately fought, but due to the level and magic power, the demon was quickly defeated, and before the blood began to eat the skin, Fenway threw a heart, which was still alive like blood.

The ugly blood gathered and swallowed the heart, and the mage's spell turned to the third and most crucial one, and he held the rest of the heart in his hand until the demon's skin returned the blood it had swallowed - not mixed, dirty blood, purified and clarified blood, elven blood, which congealed on the smooth skin, dripping along a corner, and Fenway took them with a crystal cup.

The blood of the elves was also red, but the red was like a frozen morning light and a melted garnet, without a single impurity, and the portion was not much, and it was only enough to fill a cup, and Fenway put it in the box properly, casting a spell to make sure it didn't tip over or move- Then he calmly turned to the circle, threw two hearts into the roaring dark blood, and as the devil was busy chewing, he recited the last spell aloud, and quickly plucked out the Mithril nails one by one, and the free demon skin contracted wildly like an octopus in a fishing net, enveloping the devil's blood in an instant.

Fenway deftly flipped his wrist, and a box that had been cast with a confinement spell accurately covered and contained the demon's skin and blood, and he immediately closed the lid and let it bump.

The final step is to mix the purified blood with the dragon's blood and drink it.

It is bitter and cold.

"I must say that human beings are always a strange thing," said Demont's mentor, "sometimes they are clever and sometimes they are stupid, sometimes they are generous, sometimes they are stingy, sometimes they are brave, sometimes they are cowardly - they seem to be cautious and subtle, but in fact they are so reckless as if they had never had reason." ”

"Even if it's only half," echoed his pet, which rolled up the golden cup with its tail, poured a little honey wine into it, lit it with a little venom, and swiped its blade-like tail to gouge out a fresh eyeball—from the sockets of a trembling human child, whose mouth grew painfully, but could only make a gasping sound, he had no tongue, and his vocal cords had been severed prematurely. The eyeball fell into the cup, and was immediately melted by the venom, and the golden liquid turned into an emerald that would enchant any human, provided they did not know the main ingredient: "That, too—a lowly and stupid race, a little better than the elves, but not as good as the orcs and giants, let alone anything else," it continued." They are always hesitant and capricious, and the slightest visible benefit can shake their faith, cloud their minds, and blind them to the impending dangers and predictable pitfalls—they are still hypocritical, and they may even deceive themselves into believing that what they are doing is right, that what they are doing is right, that what they are doing, that Selfless, but in fact, honorable masters, as far as I can see, they are nothing more than a bunch of pitiful and lowly, stinking fragile bugs curled up in search of leftovers, doing anything to satisfy their own **. ”

"But there's nothing wrong with that," said the owner of the pet, "for us." ”

"Definitely. The Viper sizzled that it had never had any intention of rebelling against its mage master, at least on the surface, at least while he was still strong, "Dermon is very useful. ”

"He is my disciple. ”

The serpent cautiously regurgitated his master's reply, "one of the disciples," it said, "but he is quite obedient." ”

"For the time being," said Demon's mentor, "he will be a cute puppy barking at others when I can give him what he wants, but if I can't give him food, he'll try to bite off a piece of meat from that feeding hand." ”

"Just as ambitious and unscrupulous as any other human," the pet commented, "just as stupid." ”

The caster nodded in agreement with the pet's comment, "I just need a little bit of loyalty," he said, "It won't be long." ”

"So. His pet said, "When that day comes, can I gouge out his eyeballs and dip them in a wine glass, I think his eyes will smell of chocolate." ”

"Color has no taste," Demont's mentor reminded indulgently, "and the emerald green eyeballs don't smell like mint." ”

"But I always think they should have a taste, and Delmont must have not found the right relationship," the two-headed viper chattered, "I think the green eyes should smell of mint, the blue ones should smell sweet and sour, and the amber ones should smell of honey......

"What about the black ones?"

"Bitter?" the two-headed viper couldn't decide, "but the brin and the berries are also black, and they are sweet." ”

Demont's mentor stood up, lifted a corner of the curtain, and listened to the sound in the darkness, the fine rain striking the glass, the signboard, the stone lattice road, a few rain-beaten wet birds fighting for the dry eaves, the cats crouching under the eaves meowing like babies, the horses and mules munching on licorice in the sheds, snorting uneasily,

And then there was a terrible howl that belonged to the humans.

Suddenly, it came to an abrupt end.

Fenway drank the blood, and there was no trickle left.

It was cold and bitter, but it became hot and sweet when it slid down its throat, and Fenway could even clearly feel how it invaded every part of his body, it was very persistent, and it was extremely powerful—the russet liquid flowed from Fenway's eyes, nose, ears, and every hole in his body, and he was still ** Filthy slime smeared every inch of his skin, he couldn't see or hear anything, he couldn't breathe or shout, his body couldn't move, all his internal organs and fluids seemed to turn into half-dissolved magma, he tried to remember the spell, tried to analyze the problem, but found nothing.

He opened his mouth.

The flames flowed, coming out of his body and falling to the ground, and Fenway couldn't see it—what flowed from his mouth was alive, though its color you could only see under the tongue of the dead, and it flowed on the silver-crowned wooden floor, leaving charred burn marks, it was a cyan and white like phosphorus fire, the higher it went, the more transparent it became, and it was almost colorless at the top.

It spread so fast that it flowed out of Fenway's room in an instant.

A squirrel sat upright on a purlin stand under the wide eaves, tail curled, half-asleep, and the living flames swooped down on it like a hungry falcon, and it burned with a thud, and could not even make a squeak, leaving only ashes not enough to fill the lid of a little fingernail.

The flame trembled slightly, not satisfied, and it swung from side to side, splitting into a hundred or more, and they were like newborn snakes, quickly and quietly scattering, swimming in all directions.

They are so greedy - maples, shrubs, grasses, insects, from flying in the air to being buried deep in the ground...... As long as they are alive, what is alive is their food, and their bodies, which were once so thin as if they could disappear at any moment, swelled at a rate visible to the naked eye, from the thickness of human fingers to the thickness of wrists, from wrists to arms, from arms to legs, to the body...... They merge as they devour much larger objects, catching agile prey—like birds and squirrels, and splitting into more wobble, ear-to-ear tentacles and tongues—and when some of them are about to escape the net, they leap high and burst through the air, scattering into tiny sparks that burrow into their fur and skin, scorching their guts and bones.

They are not afraid of the rain, nor do they mind losing the air on which ordinary flames live, and they spread as fast as a tidal tide or a strong wind, swallowing a fissure maple tree fifty feet tall no longer than a human swallows a sausage, and they even know how to limit their devouring speed so that the panicked birds and squirrels can carry them farther away, and the heat they emit carries a foul smell of sulfur.

The lich knew what it was, his mentor had gotten and raised a handful of them - the Negative Energy Fire, which he had been assigned to "feed" by throwing a mouse or an ordinary creature of similar size into it every once in a while to prevent it from "growing" or "dying", this task was not heavy, but it required to be very vigilant, this flame became extraordinarily intelligent in the face of life force, and it would even deliberately shrink itself and become dying to cheat on food.

It came from the junction of the Endless Abyss and the Fire Elemental Plane, fueled by life, and as long as there was life, it could burn endlessly—Fenway was even more stupid than he expected, and he opened the passage and released something worse than he had ever imagined.

He had to admit that the man who masterminded the plot was clever enough to avoid the locks set by the elves - the locks set by the elves in Grey Ridge restricted the use of teleportation spells and summoning spells, so in Grey Ridge, you could only walk or fly, and you couldn't summon demons or demons, but you could still open the way to other planes - the water plane, the fire plane, and so on - It's a wonderful sidekick, a magic circle disguised as a race changer (which, to be honest, has never been seen or heard of), but is actually connected to the fire elemental plane, containing all kinds of blood of life force...... The most vigorous and powerful dragon's blood, the blood of the abyssal creatures and the blood of the elves that attract and tempt it, and of course, last but not least, a fool who is capable of accomplishing the spell, who hates his other half of his bloodline, and who is trusted by the elves.

It was hard for the lich to understand what Fenway was thinking, that a powerful technique so complex and so wicked would end up fulfilling the cute and innocent little wish of a half-elf, and that all the red and gray robes would cry over it.

- I don't think it's a good time to sigh or reminisce about the past, and the soul of the other world shouted, don't you think the whole Gray Ridge is about to be burned down?

- Don't tell me you want to live in a ruin!" he continued.

The lich gouged out his ears in his mind - what do you want to do? He complained, if the elves were willing to trust me, I could have strangled the whole thing in swaddling clothes, but now?

-- You say that the fuel needed for these fires is life? The soul of the other world said eagerly, there is a way to do it in our world......

-- Opening up a fire barrier belt. I know, said the lich, but the problem is, I can't control the flames like you do, and normal fire can't spread below the surface, which means there's no guarantee of absolute blocking of negative energy fires - they could burn away the Grey Ridge and the Silvercrown Grove together.

- So, if we let it go, what will be the worst outcome?

- Grey Ridge and the Silvercrown Forest are burned down, the lich replied, but I think the elves will figure out a way to keep the forest.

- But Grey Ridge is about to turn to ashes, and the soul of the other world simply says sharply, let's do it, dog!

"I have an idea," said the lich, "but I don't promise that the whole thing won't get worse." ”

The steel-blue-eyed administrator looked at him, the black-haired young mage was unscathed, but if he remembered correctly, Cremar's spellbook was with Fenway, and the strange flames were coming from Fenway's room.

"Fenway gave you back the spell book?"

"No," said the lich, "but I have a few spells in my memory. ”

"What do you want to do?"

"Ignite Ash Ridge. ”

In Grey Ridge, spellcasters rarely memorize a flame spell, and although the Silvercrown Tree contains metal, shrubs and parasitic plants are dense and damp, and the Cracked Maple Tree is not so easy to ignite due to its large amount of sugar, there is no doubt that fire is still the most important thing to avoid in places like Grey Ridge or Silvercrown Forest. For this reason, the inhabitants of Grey Ridge did not even use open flames, but instead used pyroxene powder, which would produce high temperatures when added with water, the dwarves were quite expensive, and the otherworldly soul who was accustomed to gas and natural gas always felt that its fire power was not strong enough - when he wanted to fry a fillet mushroom or something.

In addition to Cremar and the uncertain Fenway, Greyridge has four mages and three mage apprentices, one of whom casts a trick and lights a pinch of dried moss, and the elves take turns stepping forward and lighting the torches in their hands.

"I don't know if this will work," one of the mages whispered, "and while I have prepared spells that I may use, I'm worried that I won't be able to cover the required area. ”

"Luckily, I've never been much of a fan of lightning spells," said the other mage, "or I'd have just been left in a daze with nothing to do." ”

"Lightning spells are just as useful," said the lich, "and what we need is to carve out a protective belt with no life or few lives, but a tree has been burned for too long, and while they burn, the remnants of the life force will still help the fire of negative energy, much faster if the tree is broken and just burns the stump, and the lightning can also burn the roots of the tree below the ground - we also need sonic spells, which can control the spread of normal flames- Powerful sound waves can increase the speed of air flow, making it thinner, and when the latter level is reduced to a critical point in flames, the flames become weak enough to be extinguished by rain. ”

He paused and added, "Corrosive spells and lightning spells are equally effective, but either way, we'll do it as soon as possible - you're right," he greeted the mage who spoke first, "We must not allow the flames to expand beyond our reach." ”

"But if there were more mages......" he said, looking at the administrator.

"I'll ask the White Tower for help. The manager said.

Ilda raised her longbow, and the night's chase finally came to an end, and she aimed at the gray, staggering figure, her sharp arrows bursting through the air with her hatred, and the silver light pierced the air and bit fiercely into the back of the gray robe.

He fell.

The accompanying mage raised his hand and signaled the elves not to rush closer, and he cast a flying spell, hovering around the gray robe for a while, and cast two more spells before nodding to them.

As they leaned in, a male elf turned the corpse open and made him reveal his face, an unfamiliar face that the elves had no impression of—an evil grey robe, not the first, nor the last, but relieved that he had nothing to do with the inhabitants of Grey Ridge, and she straightened up, trying to leave when she heard another elf cry out loudly.

The face of the strange gray robe changed, his facial features became blurred, his nose was flattened, his lips were sunken, his forehead collapsed and all his hair was lost, the Adam's apple disappeared, his skin was grayish white like a dead man, and there was not a trace of texture visible as if it had been carved and ground in stone, his limbs had thinned, and his fingers were pressed together and cemented.

Without having to flip his body to find the wings, Ilda would recognize it as a shapeshifter.

She felt a pang of fear.

A louder exclamation rang out, and an elf grabbed Ilda's shoulders and turned her around, making her look at Grey Ridge.

Burning Ash Ridge.

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