After Angus finished his sentence, Merlin studied the masked man in front of him carefully. The other person knew much about Spell Casters. Besides, he addressed Merlin as a "Spell Caster" rather than a "heretic" like the others.
Indeed, he had spoken the fact. Merlin could not cope with hundreds and thousands of arrows with his mere Zero-level spell.
"Angus, a heretic is enough for you to give up?"
Another masked man shifted his attention at Merlin. In that instant, the white light on his greatsword shone even brighter.
"Merlin, be careful. All three of them are Third-level Light Swordsmen," Old Wilson reminded Merlin weakly as he pressed his palm at the wound on his stomach.
"Attack!"
One of the masked men was furious at Merlin's indifference. The white light on his greatsword extended to almost a meter long and was aimed directly at Merlin from the top.
"Fireball!"
