Mages Are Too OP

Moreton had never seen such a fearsome breed.

Undaunted, and unable to die.

And had a different kind of obsession with killing enemies.

Until now, he hadn't been able to figure out why these people suddenly attacked him.

Obviously, he had just transiently moved to this city, and then the entire city rioted.

It seemed that every single person, thought they were their enemy.

Morton had been flying ahead, following that strange flying magic guide Shun around and behind him.

He didn't understand why his great rift didn't work on the flying machine, when the golden son with the full magical gear was straight up naked.

It didn't make sense.

He grew more and more puzzled, and at the same time, more and more restless inside.

A Dimensional Anchor Scroll kept unfolding to his left and right.

Due to the harassment of those flying machines, his flight speed now dropped significantly.

The flight magic, which was already not fast, was hard dragged down to 'turtle speed', and even the Sons of Gold on the ground were biting tightly behind him.

A large group of archers were running lightly, simultaneously shooting an arrow at him.

At this time, however, there were no more spells attacking him.

For most of the mages of the Sons of Gold had not grown up.

They didn't have the physical stamina of warriors and archers, and they couldn't fly magic to keep up with a large group.

Morton returns and fires another air cannon.

Because of the limitations of the dimensional anchor, he was now completely unable to use his strongest spatial magic ability in one piece.

He could only use some simple spells.

As a result, this wind-based air cannon still didn't hit the enemy.

Instead, because casting the spell slowed him down for a few more seconds temporarily, a wave of arrows came pounding down on his head.

He flew forward hard enough to avoid most of the arrows, but he was still hit by hundreds of cold arrows.

The Son of Gold was too good at area saturation attacks.

The ripples of the magical shield were increasing after being hit, a sign that the strength of the shield was decreasing.

He looked back at the ground and noticed that he was followed by a long, black stream of people.

The stream spread from the distant horizon as if it were a terrible magical tentacle reaching out from the wet city.

Trying to reel him back in.

"They're all crazy," Morton spat in annoyance, and he gritted his teeth, intending to do another swarm of magic.

Like a cold ice tornado or something.

However this thought was just a thought he gave up on.

A single mass magic would kill at most three to four hundred Sons of Gold.

But the terrifying crowd below consisted of at least 40,000 people, how many large magic would he have to put on to kill them all?

Do you really think that large group attack magic doesn't require magical power?

You really think the Son of Gold can't be resurrected?

He flew forward as hard as he could, all the while fuming in his heart: when I return, I will find a way to get rid of this wetland city. These Sons of Gold should definitely not gather together, it's just too scary after they cluster.

He flew forward sullenly, and now he wasn't going to fight back.

Protect enough magic to support the magic shield, as well as for flight.

The legendary mage's magic power was much, but it wasn't unlimited.

He was attacked by the chasing flying machines behind him, and the running archers on the ground, who pumped cold from time to time to release an arrow or two, had a pretty terrible accuracy, and at least five of the ten arrows could hit him.

Magic was dropping at a rather fast rate.

In panic, he thought, using his endurance to shake off these sons of gold.

Then... time this went for half an hour, not to mention the magic guides flying in the air were not shaken off, even the ground was followed by a large group of people coming over.

When he took a closer look, he found that these people all had mounts.

Almost all of them had a steed.

By this time, Morton was already a bit tired.

And then those sons of gold, still in their spirit, were screaming owlishly.

After another half an hour, he still hadn't shaken off these Sons of Gold, and even the distance between the two sides was getting closer.

It was obvious that the Sons of Gold's stamina seemed to be stronger than Morton's.

But this was just an illusion, mainly because Morton was under too many attacks.

His magic power had to be used to the fullest extent to maintain his shield and flight.

There was already some fear in Morton's heart, and his brain was racing, thinking about how he should escape from these Sons of Gold's pursuit.

Many methods arose in his mind, and were quickly rejected.

Suddenly, he saw a city appear on the horizon in front of him.

His eyes brightened, he flew to the city, those self-proclaimed righteous and good sons of gold should have cared about the lives of the civilians in the city and wouldn't attack randomly, right?

He immediately lowered some of his flight altitude, intending to escape to the city with the shortest distance possible.

Then he lowered this altitude, immediately giving certain people an opportunity to take advantage of it.

At least fifty nets were cast up.

And these nets were all large nets made of iron wire.

They reflected a cold metallic luster under the sunlight.

Many of the thieves and hunters who could throw nets were involved in the war against the vampires over a year ago, when they used straw nets, which were tough and almost impossible for ordinary people to break free, but not too hard to tear apart for vampires.

At that time, though they could net low flying vampires, they would soon break the net and it wouldn't do much to control them.

So from then on, many players started to improve the technique of making throw nets.

Eventually barbed wire was made, and some magical materials were even added and mixed into it to greatly strengthen the toughness of the wire.

Of these fifty or so wire mesh wires, thirteen of them actually hit Morton in the net.

In an instant, it wrapped him into a ball of wire.

Because the magic shield was still in place, these wire mesh naturally couldn't be tied to his body, but with a dozen or so nets on top, each net must have been at least five kilograms or so, with a sudden increase of about eighty kilograms on his body, his flight speed not only slowed down, but his altitude became lower again.

Damn!

Through the magical shield, Morton saw that his vision was blocked by a thick layer of barbed wire, and he could no longer distinguish his direction.

And flying slower, and flying lower, drew more throwing net attacks.

In less than ten seconds, he had more than twenty more sheets of barbed wire on him.

This time it wasn't a ball of wire, but a cocoon of wire.

The kind where you can't see anyone.

"Get him down."

The players running on the ground yelled.

At that moment, a plane climbed above Morton's head and then, using gravitational acceleration almost vertically, crashed down.

Obviously an old-fashioned propeller plane, it flew almost out of the old jet's sense of speed with this potential acceleration.

Then the human-powered plane struck Morton directly at a very aggressive angle.

The pilot of the plane didn't jump away, and then the two hangers-on on the wing, didn't jump away either.

The three men used their weight to add a further, more powerful momentum impact to the plane.

The plane whizzed down and hit Morton who was flying slower and slower.

At the moment of impact, the plane broke apart, splattering wood all over the place. The potential energy transfer shifted and Morton was hit like a loaded cannonball, crashing to the ground.

And the three players also hit the ground in a cloud of wood splinters, when they became three unbearable mosaics.

Morton was still alive, his magical shield shielding him from most of the impact of the fall, and he was struggling to get up, whoever had thirty or forty throwing nets set around the outside of his magical shield, with a total weight of at least nearly two hundred pounds of external objects bearing down on him.

Yet Morton stood up.

It was hard.

He couldn't see what was going on outside, but he could use his mental faculties to detect it.

The dense sea of people were coming in fast, and already there were people surrounding him, the summoner girls who could run fast on their mounts, they could maneuver much better than most of the players.

Couldn't escape on their own?

The thought crossed Morton's mind as he looked at the throwing net outside the magic shield.

Then it was extreme fear that was born in the heart.

Everyone was afraid of death, and so was Morton.

He couldn't see outside, but he still shouted, "I am the Elder of the Space Magic Tower, if you let me go, I will..."

Before the bribe was over, he felt a heavy blow to his head.

It was good that there was a magic shield blocking it, which didn't cause much damage.

But the outer layer of the magical shield had cracks in it.

Now Morton was even more anxious: "Listen to me, I can really give you a lot of money, a lot of money."

Then what he heard in his ears was the excited, charging roar of the Sons of Gold.

The cracks in the magical shield had 'grown' to the front and back.

Morton took a deep breath and said, "Ten gold coins a man."

"Who the hell are you."

The players shouted.

If there was some hesitation just now, but now the players were all filled with righteous indignation.

There were at least thirty to forty thousand players in Wetland City.

Each ten gold was an exaggerated reward of 300,000 to 400,000 gold coins.

No one felt that Morton could afford this amount of money, because it was just too much.

Then came the frantic attacks from the players.

After a few melee maneuvers, the throwing nets on Morton's body were cut open so much that he could already see what was happening ahead.

A dense sea of people, all of these sons of gold were looking at him with smiling eyes.

Like some of the good ol' boyish aristocrats he'd seen as a boy.

"A wizard has to die like a gentleman to do that." Morton looked at the swarm of players, his insides desperate, "But you don't want to be too nice."

"I'll be waiting for you at the Wall of the Faithless."

The cold and desperate voice was drowned out by the strange cries of the swarm, not making any waves.

.................

....................

Half an hour later, a large number of grateful Roland posts appeared on the forum.

The content was similar.

'I didn't expect that this brushed out boss is actually the final boss to be defeated by some epic quest, who got it here?'

"Who else could it be but Roland?"

"Doesn't Roland have a white cat now? Let's haul the black cat away."

'Now that the big BOSS is ambushed, the next thing to watch is the progress of those players who are floating across the ocean.'

"The boss can actually self-destruct, what a trouble."

Morton didn't bring out much so the players didn't find anything of value, but the good thing was that it was related to the epic quest, so even if they wasted most of the Dimensional Anchor Scrolls, they felt it was worth it.

At this time outside of Tebel City, a small square staging area had been built.

More than three hundred Shoyan stream warlocks were ready.