The Legend of Fatality

Flynn had not slept for several days, watching the stars circling above him, and he yawned a long, sad yawn. "What does this mean?" He muttered, rubbing his eyes with his palm. "Poor moon." The light of the moon obscured even the most familiar constellations, and painted the sky a terrible green, and the wizard could hardly recognize any constellations. He sighed and his eyes fell on the buildings around the observatory.

There were only a few apprentices and dwarves who chose to stay here to help maintain the Master Tower. The dwarves were digging the mountain, trying to build their new home at the bottom of the mage tower.

His observatory is made up of a pile of abandoned scrolls, overturned gimbals, flashing lenses, and calendars with curled corners. Moonlight poured down from the domed glass roof and sprinkled on paper. Each sheet is blank.

Flynn hummed a little while returning to his seat. It was a discordant buzzing sound, and he was not happy to hear it, but at least he changed another sound-a jingle that kept digging rock, seeping through the walls of the wizard tower.

Frian glanced wearily at the blank roll of paper lying on the table, then rummaged for something in the thick blue robe. There were a lot of sextants and telescopes hanging around his neck, but what he was looking for was a pure gold medal studded with precious stones. He clasped his badge tightly, using all the power on his fingers.

"I'm still an astral mage," he whispered, squeezing the metal tightly, and his bones began to hurt. "No matter what happens."

Someone knocked on the door and he flinched, hiding the medal underneath other things to protect him. He cursed in a low voice and looked around his room. The place looks like a lunatic den. Flynn stood up and walked in the room, while patrolling from side to side, tucked the missing head into the drawer, and put the gimbal back on the shelf. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, then grabbed the staff on the table and opened the door.

The person waiting outside wore the same blue robe, but was much younger than Flynn and taller than Flynn. He looked dirty and tired. His robe was soaked, his hair slanting sideways from the head in a strange, wind-blown angle. He was covered with sweat beads on his forehead. He gasped, but did not stop breathing. He raised a glass tube and sealed the two sections with gorgeous silver buckles.

"Teacher, the prophecy has come true." The mage said respectfully.

"Of course," Flynn grabbed the glass tube and murmured. The faint blue light in his hand lighted up, the silver hook of the glass tube snapped off, and the metal organ made a loud sound. Flynn slipped the paper roll out of the glass tube, broke the seal, stared at the paper, and nodded. Then he looked down and seemed to be struck by the last news on the paper, standing there, the paper falling from his hand and falling on the ground.

——————

Dean stood by the window. This administrative building's own office provided him with a very good view, almost overlooking the entire city of Fatalin.

Even at the best time, the alleys of Fatalin City were overcrowded, but since the outbreak of the war, the city has been completely occupied by refugees from all corners of the world. The scene was more confusing than the sky. Dean snorted desperately and turned away.

He has always been a little uneasy recently, but he is not sure what it is. The intelligence network on Fatalin Island is better than expected. Although there are not many strongholds in other countries, Falheim does a good job. He couldn't think of anything that made him so upset.

He looked at the scrolls and books piled up on his desk, and the irritability in his heart made him unable to work at ease. He sighed, took a bottle of wine from the cupboard in the corner of the table, and raised it to observe the color of the liquid in the bottle for a while. This slightly dark amber color represents the quality of the wine. He opened the cap, took out the glass, and poured himself a glass.

Just as he raised his glass and was about to taste it, the door of his office was knocked open. A sudden accident woke Quaker, who was sleeping on the bookshelf. People.

The coming person is Dean's man and his apprentice. His name is Wentworth. Because he is cautious and reliable, he is called the "expert". But today his behavior can be described as rash.

"What's the matter?" Dean continued to put the glass on his lips and took a shallow sip.

"Sir, the frontline news is back." Winterworth paused. "Master Amencanon summoned you to a meeting."

"It seems bad news," Dean said lightly. "Are we defeated?"

"It's okay, sir. But it is said that there are other things. I am afraid that the specifics are only known to Amencanon." Wentworth returned.

"Really? Is this a peace talk?" Dean stood up and patted his robe. "Hope is not too bad news."

——————

Amen Cannon sat in the main seat of the Fatalin Conference Hall, listening to the report of Walnut, and nodded subconsciously. But his thoughts are long gone.

The outcome of the war was unpredictable, but the current situation still gave him a headache. The defeat may be justified, no one guarantees that he will not fail, but the end of such a quick peace talk always makes him feel that there is something wrong in it.

What makes him even more angry is that it doesn't matter if other people lose some important people. Anyone who is missing in the world will continue to operate. But the Fatalin Association lost ... Even if he is well-cultivated, thinking of this, the skin on his face can't restrain twitching, and most importantly, this anger is nowhere to vent.

Walnut was keenly aware of the increasing anger in Amencanon ’s heart. The magic flowed from his body under this emotion, the most obvious of which was Amencanon ’s eyes, flashing a magic lightning flash. Walnut stopped his words, and quietly retreated to the corner of the hall, standing there quietly, as if integrated with the hall.

The voice of the singing officer heard from outside, and the names of several mages were pronounced. All are high-level mages of the Fatalin Association. The first to enter the door was the female wizard Anna Fogeletta. She wore a gorgeous red robe and a short staff in her hand. Behind him was the witch Aishan Elgino. Although she was not qualified to participate in such meetings in her power, no one would accuse her.

Following behind the two of them was Stoke-Golden Eye, the gnomish mage was older than before, his back began to bend, and his beard was about to sag to the ground. Ai Shaan's help only climbed into his seat.

The three came to the conference hall and noticed the uncontrollable magical power of Amen Cannon. The three looked at each other and all chose silence.

Then came three more masters who later joined the Fatalin Association, all of whom were formal masters who had graduated from the Marnus Imperial Academy of Magic. The three wizards sat across from the first three, and waited quietly.

When Antalatem arrived, there were already more than ten mages in the conference hall, including Ostrang-Rune. He was followed by three dwarves who were also rune mages.

Everyone in the conference hall felt the difference in atmosphere. Some of them had learned about the defeat of the war from various sources. But no one really got specific news.

The meeting that Amen Cannon held suddenly, as well as his abnormal performance, undoubtedly made everyone in the room doubtful.

The silence continued, and as time went on, several mages joined. Eventually, the black elk appeared at the door, followed by his apprentice behind them, and they carried two delicate rectangular boxes. Everyone present recognized the two coffins without exception. But no one knows the significance of these two coffins.

At this time Amen Cannon stood up and said.

"Okay, don't wait. Let's get started."

————

When Dean was late, there were still fewer than twenty people in the conference hall. This is almost all the high-level mages that Fatalin has now. No one paid attention to Dean who had just entered the door. Everyone was in a circle, and they seemed to be looking at something extraordinary.

"Oh?" Dean asked casually. "What will attract so many mages' attention?"

Everyone turned their heads at the same time, and the scene even scared Dean a little, with some strong discomfort. But everyone had a sad and angry expression on their faces ~ www.NovelMTL.com ~ This made Dean realize the seriousness of the problem, and he frowned and walked quickly to the crowd. The crowd separated as he arrived.

Inside, Amen Cannon stood in the middle, looking down at the things on the ground, tears dripping down his face. Dean continued to move forward to the front of the crowd, looking down to see two beautiful coffins on the ground. One has been closed, and the other is being closed by two black elk apprentices.

Dean reached out and blocked their movements. He grasped the coffin lid with both hands and lifted it aside. The sound of the coffin lid hitting the marble floor echoed throughout the conference hall.

Dean looked at ... something in the coffin? More puzzled.

Inside the coffin was a corpse, to be exact, a man's body. The skin was peeled off, the male officer was cut off, and the whole body was covered with huge feathers. A giant owl's head was sewn onto the head. Turned the body into a weird bird-headed monster with a feathery body.

Suddenly, Dean had a bad hunch, as if some terrible fact had been realized. He felt a sense of paralysis from the coccyx to the eyebrows along the spine.

"No, impossible." He said subconsciously.

"No, it won't." He turned his head to look at the other coffin, thinking of the two commanders in charge of the Fatalin Association army.

He then rushed over and yanked the coffin lid open, the coffin lid flew out, and finally landed on the ground, making a louder sound again. Let the meeting room echo the sound of wood hitting marble.

He looked down into the coffin and prayed to any of the gods, not as he had guessed. Until he saw the body inside the coffin.

Night Owl's head was sewn to the body of a huge owl.