Mage Legend-Chapter 830 - 59: Loss

The strategy meeting at the Five Realms Fortress was shrouded in silence, a deathly silence.

Indeed, their success in this defensive battle was undeniable. Not only did they deal a heavy blow to the giant serpent's army, forcing his plans to be significantly delayed, but the arrival of the Bear Cavalry from the north also brought hope to the people fighting — the Light God Pate had returned.

However, Knight Macken still had not revealed his identity. It's highly probable that the Half-Elf General named Pastan knew his true identity, but that wasn't the most important matter. When everyone at the meeting learned that the Legendary Great Mage Lynch had lost his memory, it was a bolt from the blue.

Wislin, without a word, attempted to heal Lynch with his Divine Arts. Yet even the Dawn Angel Clan, renowned as Talent Doctors, could not reclaim Lynch back; what hope was there for Wislin's efforts?

"Is there any way to heal him?" Morgan anxiously stomped his foot, furiously tugging at his Big Beard: "Although I hate to admit it, his strength really cannot be ignored."

"Most importantly, he is our friend." Wislin reluctantly gave up using his Divine Arts, standing beside Morgan, gently patting his shoulder. Then the knight turned to face the elf with great respect and said, "Princess Yilinrui, do the Elf Clan have any way to deal with this situation?"

Yilinrui's eyes were filled with sorrow as she softly spoke, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we are also powerless."

Pastan sat on the high stool, continuously observing the mage, as if he were a highly skilled swordsman scrutinizing his opponent. Lynch felt this gaze and turned his head, smiling at him.

"I have heard much about you from Teacher Macken, Lynch," the Half-Elf said. "He said you could be considered the strongest in the Anriel World. If there is some kind of spell that can seal the strongest's memory, then surely it is not something we ordinary people can undo. Only the Healing Hand of the Light God Pate has that capability."

"Then call that Light God Pate here and heal my Lynch!" Zilvra said impatiently, "If he can do it, I will start worshipping him from now on."

"When you feel light and kindness, you have already begun worshipping the great Pate God," Pastan nodded slightly and replied, "But fortunately, Teacher Macken, moved by the Light God's call, is now permitted to use the Hand of Healing..."

"Actually, I'm quite alright." Lynch interjected. However, the expressions in everyone's eyes were one of "you are very, very not alright right now," so he did not insist further.

Knight Macken walked up to Lynch, placing his hand on Lynch's forehead. Zilvra stood beside the mage supporting him, her fingers constantly moving back and forth on the short sword at her waist.

"Lynch, though our philosophies differ, it does not prevent us from becoming comrades-in-arms. The world needs your strength; you must awaken..." Knight Macken incanted, though the rest of his words were inaudible to anyone. A soft white light began from Lynch's forehead, slowly enveloping his body, completely shrouding him.

This process was extremely long, even the sun, unable to bear the silence, slipped behind the mountains to rest. Lynch, under Zilvra's strict command, stood on the spot without moving — not entirely true, as he could still yawn.

Knight Macken eventually withdrew his hand, and the white light gradually dissipated.

"It's reached its limit," Knight Macken said. "The Hand of Healing cannot completely heal Lynch; the magic he used to seal his own memory is incredibly powerful, and I can only loosen it somewhat. Now, we must wait for him to slowly recover."

"How long will this take?" Monk Regula burst out before Zilvra could speak. "Only Lynch can send me back to my world; if he doesn't recover his memory, I'll be trapped here."

"We need your help," Wislin told him. "You managed to injure the giant serpent with your bare hands, which is difficult for anyone here to accomplish. Now that General Pastar's Ice Core Blade has shattered, we greatly need you."

The monk stood up and did not pay heed to Wislin's words. Though he had indeed succeeded in wounding the giant serpent, even cutting off one of its heads, the injuries he sustained were not light either. His hands still trembled uncontrollably, numbness making each joint stiff. Because he kept his hands hidden within his wide sleeves, no one else had noticed for the time being.