Chapter 297: The Last Descendant of Farama

The Goblin Hunter was always swinging wildly between two extremes: competent and incompetent. Sometimes he acted like a seasoned, cold-blooded hunter, and other times, like a reckless, impulsive fool.

Take now, for instance. Without scouting the situation ahead at all, Delaford immediately rushed out. This left Ron with no choice but to follow, revealing his own position in the process.

As the man and the goblin rounded the corner of the tunnel, the Ratman lair Ron had previously bombed came into view.

The rubble from the blast had never been cleared, leaving the interior completely exposed. The good news was that the person who made the sound was, in fact, Mazarino. Ron's Arcane Consultant, who had a habit of disappearing, was right there in the cavern. Next to him stood a rather familiar-looking male Dragon Descendant.

The bad news was that they didn't look to be in good shape. Through the special vision granted by the Weaving Introduction, Ron could see a sturdy arcane prison trapping the two of them. The ground inside was covered in marks from spells and claw attacks. Outside the prison, a humanoid figure cloaked entirely in black was turning its head sinisterly, staring at Ron and Delaford in confusion.

"Ron?! No, this isn't a phantom!" Of the three hesitant parties, the Dragon Descendant was the first to react. He shouted, "Sir, get out of here! Go to Aiksuuri's lair! My master's—"

"Noisy lizard!" Before the golden Dragon Descendant could finish, the black-robed figure snapped. The barrier around the Dragon Descendant and the Traveling Mage instantly took on a new shimmer of color, completely cutting off all communication.

"He really is noisy, isn't he?" The being, whom Ron had never seen before, turned back to him. "So, you're Ron? I've heard of you. 'The hero who conquered Delusional Land,' hmm?"

He held up his hands, making air quotes. Around him, Ron could clearly feel a dark power growing stronger. Black mist swirled about the robed figure, an energy Ron had only ever seen emanating from a Death Knight.

"So it is you." Ron's eyes narrowed. He drew an arrow from his quiver. As he nocked it to the bowstring, the entire shaft became wreathed in flames.

"Who are you? Why did you invade my territory? And why did you kidnap Rurik and Farama?"

"And what do the Beastmen and Centaurs have to do with you?"

"A friend of mine tipped me off, said you people were selling Abyssal Silver to the Hells," the black-robed figure snorted. "That Dwarf was in charge of it, correct?"

He pointed toward the back of the cavern. On the platform where the Red Copper Dragon Phantom had once appeared were two bound figures. The short and stocky one was undoubtedly Rurik.

"Those Beastmen and Centaurs already had a long-standing feud. I just fanned the flames a bit while their leaders were away," he explained, making no secret of his role in the conflict between the two tribes. "They're so stupid. Stupid and reckless. It made it incredibly easy for me to acquire a large number of the dead to serve me."

"As for that crippled woman..." The black-robed figure let out a string of cold laughs. "You call *her* Farama?"

"Her? As if she's worthy of the name!"

"RATTLE—CLATTER—" At the black-robed figure's summons, several Ratman remains scrambled to their feet and swarmed toward Ron and Delaford. Alongside them appeared several ghosts with blurred, indistinct faces. "She's just a wretched woman who sided with devils for her own selfish gain! A traitor! She is unworthy of being queen of the Farama Kingdom, and even more unworthy of living in this world!"

"I am the last scion of the Ancient Dynasty! I am the sole remnant of that glorious age! And you... you are nothing but a common thief who has stolen my ancestral land! You and that traitorous queen will both pay a terrible price for it!"

As he spoke of this, the black-robed figure could barely contain himself. His surging Mana, fueled by his intense emotions, crashed over Ron and Delaford. The slightest lapse in concentration, the briefest moment of getting lost in his will, would lead to their permanent enslavement.

"Pah! You're shameless!" Delaford's head was splitting from the arcane assault, making it nearly impossible to aim his shortbow. He could only manage to brandish his dagger, shouting insults to counter the enemy's mental pressure. "Your precious Farama Kingdom fell ages ago! How come we never saw you trying to get revenge on those Elves from the Hailan Empire?!"

"You're just a coward who picks on the weak and fears the strong!"

"It is the Farama Kingdom! You ignorant goblin!" The eyes beneath the hood flashed with rage. "The secondary reason is that my power had not yet reached its peak. Furthermore, those Elves never touched the seals left by my ancestors, nor did they release that harlot who threw herself into the arms of devils."

"As for the primary reason... your so-called domain is nothing but a makeshift outfit cobbled together by a mob of Adventurers. You are, admittedly, a much easier target than the Hailan Empire."

"If you had said that a few months ago, I wouldn't have argued," Ron said, raising his hand and firing off several bolts of Strike Undead to drive back the surrounding ghosts. "But now, who is stronger and who is weaker remains to be seen!"

"Just the two of you?" The black-robed figure's movements were erratic, causing several of Ron's shots to hit nothing but air. In contrast, his opponent's Mana seemed exceptionally powerful, forcing Ron to repeatedly use Mist Step and counterspells just to keep up, severely limiting his ability to go on the offensive.

His special arrowheads could likely injure his foe, but glancing at the two unconscious hostages nearby, Ron hesitated to act time and again.

Farama, the Last Queen, possessed a near-undying body, but the Dwarf was entirely mortal. If Ron were to fight without holding back, Rurik would certainly be the first to die.

"Were your ancestors eels? Or some other slippery creature!" Ron taunted. He and Delaford were in constant peril under the barrage of the black-robed figure's spells. However, the Farama descendant was growing equally frustrated by his inability to finish them off. He was especially vexed to discover that this so-called "Lord of Delusional Land" possessed several times more magical power than he did!

'I've lain dormant for so many years and paid such a heavy price, only to be outmatched by some young upstart?!'

The black-robed figure shot a gloomy glance toward the Magic Prison. 'If I weren't forced to concentrate on those two powerful captives,' he fumed internally, 'I wouldn't be struggling to finish off a mere mortal and a goblin...'

He was tempted to devote all his Energy to a life-or-death struggle with them. But then he remembered that he'd had to lay an elaborate trap just to capture the old man and the Dragon Descendant in the first place. If he let those tigers escape their cage...

"Just hold still and die!" the black-robed man snarled, beginning an incantation. The very ground began to curl up at his gesture, forming a giant hand that lunged for Ron. Ron tried to phase through space to evade it, but was shocked to find his limbs entangled in several illusory red threads. Held fast by his opponent's Arcane Magic, he couldn't move an inch!