310: Chapter 113: The Association Envoy Who Lost Half His Life Before Even Entering 310: Chapter 113: The Association Envoy Who Lost Half His Life Before Even Entering Even though they know elves and dwarves are enemies of humans, these countries and organizations still plan to wait and see how William’s battle situation unfolds before making a decision.
They even cheer in secret, not daring to let others know.
How could they possibly treat a magician who’s targeted by both the Mage Association and the Forest of the Elves with such eagerness?
Hill doesn’t mind this at all, it’s better not to deal with him.
Without any connection, there’s not even a chance to ask Hill for help, which he actually finds quite agreeable.
He just feels that these people seem to think too highly of William’s kindness.
Probably because there are so few neutrally-kind kings in the world, their views of William are far from reality.
Hill recalled William’s style of doing things and took a moment to gloat over the foreseeable future that awaited those who harbored hopes of luck.
Then he turned his attention back to the envoy from the Mage Association.
This hesitant demeanor, does it mean he still wants to live to return?
Hill sneered.
The reason Fran didn’t interfere was precisely to let Hill establish his authority.
Otherwise, if he just said the word, the Mage Association would be a little more honest.
On the day of the Fran Legend, the everywhere present magical laws decided his untouchable status even by deities.
But although Hill is Fran’s blood relative, he is not a member of Fran’s Magic Tower.
If one treated Adrian this way, it would be a direct challenge to Fran.
In the world of mages, blood relationships mean nothing.
If Hill relied on Fran to stop these things, he would only ever be a vassal to Fran’s Magic Tower.
Fran had no such intentions, so Hill had to face all these trials independently.
But that’s exactly the true care his grandfather had for him.
Adrian would indeed protect Hill, but he also wouldn’t care if Hill could only survive by depending on their Magic Tower.
This slight difference might seem trivial, but to Hill, who could live for tens of thousands of years, it’s actually very important.
Only those who truly cared for him would consider so carefully.
Ordinary people couldn’t see this, but the high-level members of the Mage Association understood.
Hill suspected that this envoy who came to test him did not understand.
Compared to other Legends being tested, Hill was the one who would definitely take action and kill.
This meant that after probing for a long time, the Mage Association had sent a fool?
No, it must be a fool with backing.
Just like that fool envoy who pursued the Elf Princess.
He was betting that Hill would give face to the Legendary Laws behind himself.
After all, Hill was young and of a Kind Alignment—it was possible that he really could retreat unscathed.
Hill stood up, washed up, and changed his clothes.
He put on a solemn black robe.
Surrounded by the swirling Magic Auras in the sky above the small town, Hill stood still, looking in the direction of the Western Border City.
If they still didn’t come over after Hill showed a welcoming attitude, then today could be completely over.
Hill only stayed in the sky for 1 minute before he sat down in the 3rd-floor hall of the Lord’s Mansion.
On the first and second floors below, the halls were filled with the Undead Tribe munching on food, and the second floor was full of mages making potions.
They were busy coming and going; no one paid any attention to Hill’s affairs.
Even Hill, who had such a good relationship with the Undead Tribe, and even though they had undertaken his task to fight to the death.
But NPCs are NPCs; all attention is only on themselves when they have nothing to do.
Rather than paying attention to what Hill was doing, they were more eager to finish their tasks at hand and deal with the enemies outside first.
This opportunity was too good for the members of the Snow Cloud Peak Alliance to take revenge.
With their families being enemies for years, who didn’t have a few permanent nemeses?
If they died, they could respawn directly from the chapel in the small town; those on the other side would have to travel 500 kilometers.
If it weren’t for a boss covering them in Doomsday, they would have already fled; who would do such a thankless job!
Hurry up and take advantage of this opportunity to kill off a nemesis a few more times—it’s more important than anything.
It is because of this that Hill can maintain his sanity and not get any closer to these Undead Tribe’s affairs.
Hill often reminded himself that it was not easy to survive amidst this turmoil, so he shouldn’t get fully caught up in it.
Hill entered the Lord’s Mansion when the sun was at its peak, but the Mage from the Mage Association arrived outside the small town as night began to deepen.
Old Cat switched the giant screen to the Mage decisively.
As soon as the Undead Tribe saw him coming, they quickly started a live broadcast.
Leading a group of people, he hesitated for a moment at the edge of the battlefield.
Hill, looking out the window, could see a dozen people hesitating, and it was clear that all were older Mages and Archmages.
“Why would an Archmage dare to come?” List asked curiously.
“The risks are smaller for a lackey?” Hill speculated, “If they provoke a Legend and die, someone has to go back and report how they died, right?
Are they here to bear witness?”
“So what do they do now?” List looked around curiously, “The Mage could cast a Magic Shield and charge in, but an Archmage, even with 10 extra layers, would surely die, right?”
The ones fighting outside were thousands of Mages of Mage Level.
Moreover, it was quite clear that these few individuals didn’t have the standing to make the Undead Tribe glance their way and cease their attack.
But Hill was legendary.
Even if they were here to cause trouble, it wasn’t possible to expect a legendary figure to greet them at the door.
They had to rely on their own abilities to walk through the town’s gates before someone at the Lord’s Mansion’s entrance would guide them.
Hill watched those visitors, who hovered around for a while, finally advance towards the town, layered in shields.
“The one who sent these people offered quite the high price,” Hill commented indifferently, “Even the Archmages think it’s worth dying for.”
Hill watched impassively as, due to a moment’s carelessness, two Archmages died within the chaotic Fire Wall spells cast by the Undead Tribe.
They were already in the middle of the battlefield, right outside the town’s main entrance, which was naturally the most fiercely contested spot.
The people who resurrected and rushed back out were mostly crowded here.
Soon another Archmage perished under the longsword of a Swordsman released from his grip.
Hill saw the Magisters, their expressions tense, already completely lacking the capacity to care for the Archmages following behind them.
It seemed the Undead Tribe had found some sort of amusement.
Both sides of the fight, completely indifferent, intensified their assault on the path they knew the others must take.
Hill remained unmoved, only after all the Archmages had lost their lives did he approach the Magisters who had reached the town’s gate.
Hill never realized how much he had changed.
In the eyes of the Undead Tribe, these were merely vanishing data, but Hill knew that these people were flesh and blood.
Their lives had completely dissipated under his will.
Hill was no longer the Junior Mage who wished for nobody to die because of him, the one who had just stepped out of White Horse City.
Hill thought absentmindedly, had this been when he first left the borders of Saral Country, he might have actually done as these people wished, just injuring them and driving them away.
Even the Hill who visited Cortez would have gone easy on those who directly provoked him.
But in fact, inflicting grievous injuries on others, in this fantasy world, had no warning significance.
Ordinary people, even with backing, wouldn’t dare to offend Professionals.
Death was a trivial matter to them.
But for Professionals, especially High-level Professionals, so long as they didn’t die, there was nothing to fear.
No matter how virtuous Fran had sculpted Hill’s image, in their eyes, Hill was a part of the Kind Alignment who wouldn’t kill.
Even knowing that Hill had killed when he was Low Rank, they didn’t fear him.
Do ordinary people or Low-level Professionals count as people in their eyes?
Hill watched coldly as the Magisters, covered in wounds, charged into the town gate and gestured for List to have Marsha meet them.
There was no need to give them time to tidy themselves up.
Hill sat calmly on the sofa at the forefront of the hall, observing the Magisters brought in by Marsha.
Even with unsightly expressions and disheveled appearances, they still tried hard to convey an image of dignity to Hill.
But being paid to cause trouble for Hill was enough to reveal their faint guilt.
Watching their elegant manners, yet always with a sense of unease.
“Polanio Your Highness,” a Magister dressed in a red robe with a long white beard, placing a hand over his chest as a sign of respect, spoke, “Congratulations on your ascension to legendary status.
Please allow me, Harris Tris, to represent the Mage Association and extend to you our sincerest congratulations.”
Hill nodded, “Thank you.”
Then he waited leisurely for his next words.
This was a show both sides knew well, the only question was whether the actors were up to par.
“In keeping with the traditions of the Mage Association, please also allow me to present you with internal documents for your eyes only, as befits a Legendary,” Magister Tris spoke arrogantly.
He took out a stack of papers over a meter tall from his ring.
Hill smiled with interest.
If it were any other legendary, with attendants at their side, they would naturally take these documents.
Then he could have played a superior game, discarding these unbound sheets, watching attendants scramble to collect them from the floor.
Hill realized what they were up to when he saw the scattered papers, although they were covered in Magic Aura ensuring only those below Legendary could not see the content, they hadn’t been placed in a presentation box.
But at the moment, only two Tower Spirits stood by Hill’s side.
Hill waited to see how the documents would be presented.
If they dared to throw them on the floor, Hill would immediately take action and his life would be forfeit.
He wouldn’t get the chance to speak his piece.
For two seconds, the Magister held the documents in shock before swiftly delivering the papers to Hill, presenting them with both hands.
Hill was somewhat surprised; was what he had to say to Hill that important?
Without a word, Hill simply waved and a gust of wind carried the papers to a side table.
This was his due, and Hill wasn’t one to discard things without reason.
“Polanio Your Highness,” Tris returned to his original position and continued, “Gillenskjaern has asked me to inquire whether you are willing to teach Wind Magic?
If there’s no issue, the Mage Association can immediately send someone over.”
“No,” Hill surmised, an Elf half-blood perhaps?
“The Mage Association is willing to pay an adequate price,” Tris said with arrogance.
“You can leave now,” Hill said, leaning back on the opulent sofa indifferently.