Skill: Papermaking (Sixth Tier)
Consumption: 30MP
Effect: Produces 150 sheets of high-quality paper.
...
[Skill Point: 74 → 73]
The series of rituals, while not consuming much physical strength, left Lyle feeling mentally exhausted; after all, setting up magic rituals required a high level of mental concentration.
Fortunately.
All the magic Lyle needed to upgrade was finished. The only regret was the seventh tier "Resurrection."
Because his faith system caster Rank was not high enough, he was unable to master it.
"Magic Power Boost: Seventh Tier Magic: Papermaking!"
Lyle's entire body surged with magic, creating an invisible shockwave around him. This was not activating a ritual, but rather using the "Magic Power Boost" ability normally.
Sheet after sheet of paper, looking tough and snow-white, shimmering with magical luster, quickly condensed in mid-air.
There were only 100 sheets of magic paper!
"The fourth tier produced 300 sheets, the sixth tier had 150 sheets, but the seventh tier 'Papermaking' only has 100 sheets left."
Lyle's eyelids twitched; this reduction in quantity was truly quite large.
"20 sheets of paper can create one magic scroll of the same tier; currently, I can produce five seventh tier scrolls, which is enough."
Lyle rubbed his temples and looked at the sky: "It seems I won't be able to go back today."
A night passed.
Middle-Earth Month.
November 16th.
In the dry desert.
Five scrolls emitting obscure magical light lay before Lyle. With a wave of his hand, he collected these five scrolls into his Item Box.
"It's time to go back."
Lyle thought of the Ancient Fire Dragon and the Solar Anglerfish that had forced him into the magma sea, and a cold look flashed in his eyes.
He raised both arms.
One hand grabbed the Ghost Hound, and the other hand grabbed the Minister of Forging.
"Teleportation!"
Lyle whispered.
Swish!
The location where the three figures stood seemed to collapse in the air, shrinking first, then disappearing.
The volcanic belt.
A pungent smell rushed to meet him.
Lyle frowned, then looked at the Ghost Hound beside him, a look of apology appearing in his eyes: "Momo, you'll need to sleep for a while."
"Awoo."
The Ghost Hound rubbed against Lyle's palm and then nodded, seemingly understanding what was about to happen.
Lyle formed a hand blade, aimed it at the Ghost Hound's neck, and struck it with a sudden, forceful blow.
"Snap!"
A crisp sound of breaking bone rang out.
The Ghost Hound's body went limp, losing its life without pain. Then, Lyle casually crushed the neck of the Minister of Forging, killing him as well.
This was unavoidable.
Unable to Teleportation directly back to the Northwest Continent, Lyle had to enter the magma again in the same way he arrived, but neither the Ghost Hound nor the Minister of Forging could obviously survive passing through the magma.
Lyle had to kill them first and resurrect them once he returned to the Northwest Continent.
Swish!
Stowing the bodies of the Ghost Hound and the Minister of Forging into his Item Box, Lyle looked toward the depths of the volcanic belt and leaped: "Flight."
Magic covered the surface of his body, and he quickly took to the air.
Enduring the scorching high temperature and billowing black smoke above, he searched for a good while before finally finding the volcano from which he had been ejected along with the erupting magma.
Boom!
Rumble!
The large group of surrounding volcanoes kept emitting rumbling vibrations, magma bursting forth, with sky-high red light and black smoke permeating over the many craters below.
"Wild Shape!"
Lyle hovered directly above this crater, enduring the burning sensation of the high heat, and took out the small Solar Anglerfish from his Item Box.
His whole body began to writhe and shrink.
Within two breaths, Lyle had transformed into a small Solar Anglerfish, falling straight down from mid-air into the magma below.
Bang!
Lyle smashed into the magma, making a "glug" sound. With a flap of his fins, he slipped into the depths of the magma in a flash.
Azerlisia Mountains, Lava Zone.
This was a crimson area.
The Ancient Fire Dragon lay in the magma, with only half its head exposed; as it breathed through its nostrils, the air mixed with the high temperature of the magma's surface, turning into gusts of crimson flame.
It had stayed in the magma sea for over half a month.
The injuries inflicted by that detestable human were too severe; even with the help of the energy in the magma, the wounds still hadn't fully recovered.
The Ancient Fire Dragon could feel a special curse power at the site of the wounds, affecting its recovery.
Pop~ Pop~
Blobs of semi-liquid magma sparks burst around the Ancient Fire Dragon, and the splashed, scalding magma slid off the Ancient Fire Dragon's crimson scales like ordinary water droplets.
To it, the temperature of over a thousand degrees had no effect whatsoever.