The afterglow of the setting sun spilled across the meadow, surrounded by lush, ancient trees. Their thick trunks stood like guardians of time, silently witnessing the ever-changing tides of the world.
Merlin's fist carried a sharp, whistling wind, slicing the air with a hunting cry. Almost before Ian could react, the punch landed squarely on his face.
To be honest, Ian had never expected Merlin to suddenly strike him. By the time he realized the attack was coming, the fist was already in front of him, and he didn't even have the chance to respond.
In that instant, with the rippling shock of tender flesh against his cheek, half of Ian's face caved inward. That heavy, crushing blow seemed to contain every ounce of Merlin's strength.
"Hissss~"
To tell the truth, not just in this lifetime, even including the one before he crossed over ito this world, Ian had never once been punched in the face. His head buzzed dully, as if ringing with static. It wasn't only the fiery sting across his cheek; his whole body staggered back a few steps, utterly out of his control.
"This punch was for my childhood trauma!" Merlin withdrew his hand after striking Ian's face, though his fists remained tightly clenched, his knuckles bone-white from the force.
'Yeah.
'The swelling was already beginning to show.'
After all, according to the "relativity" recorded in apocryphal histories, the fist of one who strikes must also bear an equal force in return. Both were Legendary Wizards; their physical bodies were nearly equal in toughness.
Because of that, Merlin's fist wasn't unscathed either, though, of course, it was nowhere near as bad as Ian's swelling face. Ian shook his head twice before glaring furiously at Merlin.
He didn't even bother asking what "childhood trauma" meant. Being angry and young, how could he tolerate such a baffling attack on his person, and on his face no less? He rolled up his sleeves and lunged straight at Merlin.
"Damn it! This is going to leave me with childhood trauma!"
Are you insane?! You're an old man, and you sneak-attack me, a twelve-year-old kid? Have you no shame?!' Ian's fists did, in fact, pack a punch.
His strength was real, and his speed was astonishing. Calling it a storm of random punches was no exaggeration.
His arms flailed at lightning speed, his fists pounding down on Merlin like raindrops. Each strike cut through the air with a rushing whistle. The blur of fists was dazzling to behold.
"Holy shit!"
Merlin clearly hadn't expected Ian's counterattack to be so swift and ferocious. He hurriedly raised his arms in defense, but Ian's fists continued to hammer him relentlessly.
Eyes.
Nose.
Kidneys.
Merlin's horrified expression was priceless when Ian's fists went straight for his crotch. As the saying goes: "The fist fears the young, the staff fears the old!"
When it came to wizardly magic, an old man with a wand was surely crafty and unpredictable; his strength was unknown. But in a bare-knuckle brawl, the twelve-year-old Ian showed Merlin just how terrifying youth could be.
The sound of "bang, bang, bang" rang out in quick succession. Merlin was beaten back step after step. His mouth let out continuous "ow, ow" cries, it was the reaction of someone whose kidneys had just taken a savage pounding on both sides.
"Stop! Stop! Time out! Time out!" Merlin mumbled through his dodging, his tone full of grievance as if old grudges hadn't been settled and new ones had just been added. His face now bore several bruises, with thin trickles of blood seeping out. Pain twisted his expression; his eyes narrowed to slits and the corners of his mouth twitched from the sting.
But a timeout was impossible.
Like a berserker possessed, Ian hammered two more blows straight into Merlin's groin. At barely five feet tall, he slipped and darted around Merlin's counterattacks with astonishing agility.
"Stop it, stop it! You two!"
Leonard stood to the side, looking utterly dumbfounded. He had intended to step in and break it up. However, the moment he took a step forward, one of Ian's stray punches smashed into his shoulder.
His whole body was sent flying. If not for the tears of the Phoenix falling on him, his shoulder might have been completely ruined. Such was the way of things: when immortals fought, mortals suffered.
Don't be fooled by Merlin and Ian being just mere wizards; when two Legendary Wizards brawled, their physical strength was fierce. Leonard had just proven firsthand how much weight a punch from a "Legendary little wizard" could carry.
"Ahhh, ow!"
Even though Phoenix tears heal any wound quickly, Leonard was still gritting his teeth and breathing in cold air from the pain. He quickly clutched his Phoenix and hid behind a large tree far away.
"What the hell is this crap?!"
The young Dumbledore trembled slightly in fear. The Phoenix seemed deeply shaken by the sudden chaos, too, as its feathers were bristling and it gave an anxious cry. Not far away, Ian was still chasing Merlin with his fists swinging. After all, Ian had never been so humiliated in his life.
"Now, who's the real boxing king?!"
The more he fought, the more excited he became.
"Stop already!"
It wasn't that Merlin didn't want to fight back, but Ian's attack speed was maxed out. When Merlin saw Ian suddenly pull out a pair of boxing gloves and pour a potion onto them, the so-called King of Wizards' expression instantly shifted in horror.
"You bloody brat! You didn't just pour shit on your fists, did you?!"
Throwing aside all pretense of dignity, Merlin bolted on the spot. Some of those potions, especially Ian's bizarre inventions from the future, were impossible to identify in such a short time. Having already experienced the trauma of having shit land on his head, Merlin wasn't about to gamble on what kind of "magic" Ian had coated his fists with.
So he ran.
Ian chased.
Merlin was clearly running out of options, as if his wings had been clipped.
"You...you damn brat! I was only taking revenge! Do you understand?" Merlin tried to explain, but Ian had no intention of listening.
"Then I'm taking revenge right now, too. Isn't that reasonable? You ambushed me twice today already!" Ian shouted as he pursued Merlin. At the same time, he cast a Protean Charm, and spikes began sprouting from his boxing gloves. Thanks to the potions he'd poured on them earlier, each spike shimmered with an eerie, sinister gleam.
"??????"
Merlin glanced back and felt a chill run straight down his spine and his scalp began to tingle. He didn't want to counterattack with magic because he dreaded Ian suddenly turning into the Raven.
That creature had absurdly high magic resistance and was notoriously unfriendly toward wizards.
"I was wrong! I shouldn't have been so rash!"
Merlin dropped to his knees at lightning speed, trying to apologize. But Ian clearly wasn't going to relent. Gritting his teeth, Merlin unleashed a trump card. He stopped running, reached into his pouch, and, in the next moment, a massive treasure chest appeared between him and Ian. Gems, mithril, and gold inside the chest gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, instantly catching Ian's attention.
Blocked by the chest, Ian skidded to a halt.
"Phew... Thank goodness... In some ways, nothing has changed," Merlin sighed in relief when he saw Ian's gaze locked onto the treasure. He immediately shoved the chest toward Ian.
"This is my compensation to you..." Merlin pressed a hand against his swollen face and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His words were slurred, and he had no choice but to admit defeat.
His voice whistled strangely; he was missing a few teeth.
"Hah? Are you trying to buy me off?"
Ian had won the fight, yet he still felt indignant. "If you don't explain what the hell this was all about, I could beat you again and again!"
Despite his words, though, he snatched up the chest without hesitation. Accepting the payoff didn't mean he had to forgive Merlin, of course.
Sometimes, Tang Niu's Inequality really came in handy. Ian silently opened a fresh page in his little black notebook and made a special entry for Merlin. He would "settle accounts" properly at a later time.
Under Ian's sharp, unfriendly glare, Merlin gave a bitter smile. "That thing I gave you earlier is an alchemical artifact from the true Creator."
"To be precise, it is one of the organs belonging to the works forged by the so-called 'God of Alchemy,' who was created by the true Creator's might. Only the true Creator can restart it."
I used this method to confirm your identity: Medivh, the true Creator, and the Raven. You are all the same being!"
Merlin's tone carried absolute certainty.
"Hm?"
Hearing this, Ian couldn't help but frown. He could accept the identity of the true Creator, but the Raven? There was no way he had gone back in time to become the Raven, was there?
Too many nesting dolls!
"You may not realize this yet, but I am certain of my judgment. I've found information about the true Creator in many ancient texts."
"You should know that he is often depicted as a bird. How could such coincidences possibly exist in this world?" Merlin sighed as he began casting a spell to heal his injuries.
"What did you smear on your gloves?" Even though his wounds were gradually healing under the influence of magic, Merlin still didn't feel at ease. He remembered that Ian's gloves had hit him a few times.
"Nothing much. Just a failed experiment with a bloodline fusion potion. It might cause you to mutate into a goblin. You people now call them Pukwudgies?"
Ian's reply made Merlin's heart pound wildly.
(To Be Continued…)
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