The dwarves on the street made way for the two people, after all, only the mage and the knight seemed to be in a hurry. Lynch was constantly practicing his Spiritual Control, always lifting his body as he moved forward. To outsiders, the knight in heavy armor appeared exceptionally weighed down with each step, while the mage seemed somewhat ethereal, as if his feet didn't touch the ground while dashing forward.
Upon reaching Weite's residence, it was unusually quiet, with only a candle lit inside the house, emanating a pale yellow glow from the window. Lynch halted in front of the house and also stopped the Paladin Macken. The mage's eyes had already seen the situation inside: the Vite Dwarf lay silently in bed, with only the last candle burning in his room, like his life, reaching its endpoint.
"The old dwarf has passed away; it seems his age was too advanced," Lynch said to Macken. "In that case, we'll have to go directly to the Dwarf King to explain the situation, though I don't have high hopes for that."
"What exactly are we meant to explain to them?" Macken asked. "Those snake-men orchestrated a conspiracy, quite in line with their nature. But, mage, the real danger doesn't lie in the dwarven realm. The northern chosen one is the one shrouded in heavy clouds. I suggest we take Morgan and leave here; the ice plains are our most important target."
"Macken," Lynch said, facing the knight, staring at his mustache, which had begun to regain its slight blackness. The mage said, "I don't know how much you know about the north, but it seems you know even more than I do. You weren't present when the Elf Queen made her prophecy, and I'm a person tight-lipped about it. Where did you get this information? Or is your vision capable of seeing vast distances, or looking down on this world from infinite heights?"
Macken straightened himself, appearing prouder than ever, as if the infinite light was enveloping him everywhere. He said, "Lynch, I have indeed seen many scenes, surpassing what Hernfurry foresaw. And beyond that, I have personally touched that evil shadow." He sighed, yet not mournfully, but with a spirit of struggle and aggression. He pressed his hand to his chest, then said, "I have been defeated, letting the enemy gain the advantage, but he absolutely will not prevail for long! Lynch, I still have an important mission and must go north. Will you come with me?"
The mage looked at Macken. He was about to agree but swallowed the words at his lips. At that moment, it felt as if agreeing with Macken's words was the only correct and natural choice; the mage found no resistance to reject his proposal. Lynch couldn't say, "No, I disagree." He could only choose silence. Thɪs chapter is updated by novelꞁire.net
Macken wore a smile more amiable and kind than the captivating portrait of Pate in the Light Temple. Had it been a northern paladin or Priest, such as Kuboert and Wislin, they might have knelt and wept, agreeing to Macken's demand. Lynch stood firm before the knight, concentrating his mind to resist the power. This was not Charming Magic, nor was it the inherent temptation like that of a Desire Demon. Lynch had a thought in his mind; perhaps this was what the priests referred to as Divine Power.
"Who are you?" Lynch's palm was pricked by the Powerful Wand as he deliberately grasped the tip holding the Undead Magic Bead. The mage struggled to squeeze words through his teeth, and his facial muscles tightened due to exertion. A little inattention might cause him to say, "I agree to all your demands."
"Who exactly are you?"
"I am Macken, the Dragon Slayer, a Paladin from the north," the man opposite the mage said. Then he closed his mouth, but his voice resonated heavily in Lynch's mind: "But on the other hand, since you are so eager to know! I am Pate, the Divinity of Light!"