In the simply decorated magic laboratory, fine beads of sweat appeared on Allegri's forehead.

The ink that has been prepared takes on a vermilion color, and the magic of the flame visible to the naked eye ripples like a tidal wave. After dipping the ink, Allegri had to use his mental power to precisely control each part of it, so that it was perfectly attached to the blank scroll and sealed the force in it.

Although there are some similarities with the principle of the "time bomb", the magic scroll is indeed much more difficult to draw than Allegri imagined. The circuit structure of the mid-level spell was not particularly complicated, but the first scroll actually took more than half a morning. Compared to casting a spell in the Sea of Souls, it takes more than double the amount of mana, and the movement of the brushstrokes is completely dependent on the precise control of the wrist, and the tacit coordination with the mental power is also paid attention to, almost like a turtle crawling on paper.

Finally, Allegri made the final stroke with difficulty, and the arcane magic circuits fit together perfectly, and the entire scroll emitted a pale red light, and the breath of a living creature was extinguished.

Brooke, who was temporarily acting as an assistant, began to clean the brush and seal the ink, Allegri reached out and slowly rolled up the scroll, the violent fire magic gradually settled, and a faint red light was sucked into the scroll, revealing only one or two traces of fiery red lines.

A mid-level flame-based magic scroll, so that it is considered a success.

"Teacher, what kind of scroll is this?" Brooke finished packing up and leaned over.

"'Flaming Shackles,'" Allegri tossed him casually, commanding, "here you go, we'll draw it in the afternoon, and you get ready." ”

Brooke hurriedly reached out to catch the scroll, and the resentment caused by the title "Little Ball" all disappeared, but he couldn't help but wonder, "Teacher, is it really the first time you have drawn a scroll?"

"Of course, what's the problem?" Allegri questioned.

"No, it's just that your brushwork is so skillful, teacher, that you can't see the rustiness at all," Brooke said sincerely, "and you can succeed the first time, which is unheard of." ”

"Ignorant and foolish fellow," Herseus snorted in Allegri's heart, "haven't you heard of my old man's name?"

Allegri smiled, not bothering to pay attention to him.

******

Even if Brooke has been painstakingly collecting for decades, there are not many materials to make scrolls, and the sum of seven, seven, eight, or eight can barely make about four, and it is still a situation where it cannot fail once.

Even with Herseus's guidance, Allegri inevitably made a mistake, and as soon as he relaxed when drawing the last scroll, the raging flame magic erupted directly, burning directly through the wooden console.

Shaking his head and sighing, Allegri gave up the drawing, sat down and began to meditate to restore his magic. Brooke and Cyrell are left to clean up the pieces.

"Are you the student of the head of the regiment?" Sailel looked at the old man, who was not too old, and was willingly cleaning up the broken table.

"Captain?" Brooke glanced at Allegri and nodded with a smile, "That's right. ”

"Uh," Cyril thought for a moment, "isn't he awkward at such a young age?"

"The master is the teacher," Brooke said, "besides, the teacher must be in his forties, not too young." He glanced at Allegri in meditation.

"More than forty?" Cyrell's heart finally turned a corner, she had seen Allegri's true face, and naturally knew that he was only in his twenties, but for these people who had only seen Ali Baba wearing a "trick mask", he was indeed an ordinary middle-aged man in his forties.

"It's just wondering," Brooke scratched his head, "why does the teacher want to dress up as a warrior." ”

"Maybe it's because the church isn't friendly to magicians. Cyrell replied casually.

"But the teacher is a high-level, high-level mage," Brooke emphasized, "do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm a high-level ......," Cyrell replied a little speechlessly as she looked at Brooke with a look of adoration.

******

After his daughter's wedding, Mendel began to prepare for his next trip.

As is customary for a desert caravan, he would hold a banquet to thank his trading partners and associates for their support, and to make a specific plan for the next caravan and recruit relevant personnel.

In the afternoon, Allegri and Cyreil, who had received the invitation, rested for a while and then boarded the carriage one after another.

At the banquet, they saw a lot of familiar people in the caravan, of course, only Allegri knew them, and they were all slightly puzzled when they saw this strange middle-aged mercenary beside Celil, and they were even more surprised when they heard that Celil had joined his mercenary group.

"Sister Cyrell," the giant axe warrior who served as the captain of the caravan guard always looked awkward in his dress, and asked angrily, "How did you get to his mercenary group?"

Cyrell shook her head helplessly and pulled him aside to speak.

"Ah...... Brother Ribaba," Mendel explained to Allegri, who had been left behind, as he shook off the crowd, "and they didn't recognize you. ”

"I know, Brother Mendel, come ......here," Allegri pulled Mendel into a corner where no one was looking, took out a small cloth bag from his bosom, and handed it over, "I didn't have time to prepare a congratulatory gift last time, but this time I heard that you are going to cross the desert again and give you a small gift." ”

Mendel casually took it, just as a small object, patted Allegri on the shoulder, shook his head and smiled, "What are you doing so politely, what kind of gift is rude-"

His words stopped, and he let out a "huh" and looked carefully at the two small scrolls in the cloth bag.

"Two mid-tier scrolls?" Mendel wondered, "this gift is still small?"

"Can it be heavier than my life?" Allegri smiled.

"For me, that's two more lives," Mendel laughed, carefully taking the scroll into his arms, and said earnestly, "I won't shirk it, no, little brother, I have made your friend." ”

"From the time you dug me out of the sand, we were a friend. Allegri laughed too.

Mendel nodded with emotion, as if to affirm something. He looked around for a while, and suddenly beckoned and shouted, "Afra, come here." ”

It didn't take long for a little girl to run through the cracks in the crowd.

She was only eleven or twelve years old, wearing a cute silk-edged dress, and her short black ear-length hair had a hint of Athea.

"Brother, I ask you for something," Mendel looked at Allegri earnestly, full of anticipation, "if you look at her well, can you see anything?"

Allegri was a little dizzy from his inexplicable behavior, but he still looked at it carefully.

The little girl looked at him curiously, and there was a hint of scrutiny in her clear eyes, but her gaze became more and more solemn opposite Allegri, who was bent and bowed.

Why is the magic fluctuation on her body so strong?

(First update, I've been running around outside these days, sorry)

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