The old mage, whose name was Ulen, but who currently looked like a disgruntled grandfather in a high-visibility vest, stared at Yang.
A slow, mischievous glint sparked in his clouded eyes.
"A battle like that?" Ulen mused, stroking his long, white beard. "You, a man who knows only how to break things, think you can lead a team to create? It's laughable."
The old man didn't like fighting, even though he was extremely strong. After all, most of his life before being imprisoned involved fighting and killing.
That's why he kept rejecting the invitation to fight, no matter how many times Yang insisted. But if this was the battle, then even he was a little interested since he hadn't competed like this before.
There was also another benefit, as he could use his magic to lead people, and create architecture inspired by his world of magic that didn't exist anymore.
It was his way to ensure that even though insignificant, a small part of his world's history survived.
