Ashen Dragon-Chapter 370 - 294: Misha’s Determination

Chapter 370: Chapter 294: Misha’s Determination

Several months ago, Old John’s body was burnt to ashes by the soldiers.

At that moment, the hatred and anger in Misha’s heart surged like a flood, breaking the last bit of peace deep within her.

It was as if a blazing fire ignited within her, wrapping tightly around her body, making her curl up in the corner, unable to extricate herself.

And at that moment, she suddenly discovered that she had the ability to create and control flames. It seemed to be an innate talent, catalyzed by Old John’s death.

“Snap…”

Misha spread her palm, a flickering flame ignited in her hand.

The flame was hot and bright, as if it was the embodiment of her inner self.

“Releasing this power, maybe then Lord Ramp will take notice.”

“Perhaps even garner the king’s attention, and then… exact revenge for Old John personally.”

Her brown pupils also lit up with a fire, whether it was a reflection of the flame in her hand or a response to her changing emotions.

Misha slowly raised her hand.

“Boom!”

With a loud burst, a fiery dragon shot out from her palm, darting straight towards the sky.

The flame exploded in the sky, scattering fiery sparks everywhere.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a spell!”

“So hot! Get out of here!”

Under this intense heat, the air began to slightly distort, and the surrounding crowd descended into chaos, fleeing in panic.

“It’s an attack!”

“Protect Lord Ramp!”

“Damn! Who dares to charge the army formation?”

The attendants with steel spears rushed into the panicked crowd, searching for the source of the spell, but only found a girl of about eight or nine years old.

“You don’t need to look, it’s me.”

Misha looked directly at the attendants without any concealment, spreading her hands to reveal the dancing flames in her palms.

“It’s that girl!”

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“It’s her!”

“She’s the one who cast the spell! Catch her!”

The Captain of the Guards quickly raised his long spear, shouting loudly, not wanting to be derelict in front of Prime Minister Ramp.

The surrounding guards also nervously closed in, tightening the encirclement, preparing to capture the mysterious spellcaster.

Suddenly, Ramp’s voice rang out.

“Stop.”

“Don’t be too tense, how could flames possibly harm me?”

“You, you said it.”

The Captain of the Guards lowered his head nervously, responding promptly.

Ramp descended slowly from mid-air, tapping the ground lightly with his magic wand, gazing down at the girl surrounded by the army.

He observed carefully.

She looked about eight or nine years old, small and thin, with some dirt on her smooth skin but no signs of dragonification.

The girl trembled all over from extreme tension, yet still looked at him from afar, her eyes firm and defiant, unafraid of the tense situation.

According to Ramp’s estimation, the power of the spell just now had already reached the Third Tier level—which meant she was likely born with the talent of a nearly Level Five magician!

Suddenly, Ramp squinted slightly, showing an intrigued expression.

“A natural-born magician…”

“To have such spellcasting ability without experiencing the blessing, that’s indeed rare.”

“She could become a force for the kingdom.”

With this in mind, Ramp took a step forward, revealing a smile he thought to be especially kind, and said softly, “Child, don’t be so nervous. I am Ramp, the kingdom’s Prime Minister.”

“Is there something you need?”

However, Misha looked up, the ogre’s massive figure looming over her, the grotesque face showing a bizarre smile, revealing long, curved tusks.

She felt she could almost smell the overwhelming stench of blood.

But in the end, supported by her will, she did not falter, though her body trembled like a leaf.

Misha finally spoke timidly, “Lord Ramp.”

“I, I…”

She gritted her teeth and, after a moment of silence, finally made a decision, “I want to see the king!”

“Oh?”

“Lord Ramp, I want to see the king.”

Misha requested again, her words weak but incredibly firm and sincere.

Ramp slowly shook his head, tapping the ground with his magic wand once more, half turning away, “There are countless people who seek an audience with the king. They seek wealth, power, strength, or simply wish to admire the king’s grandeur.”

He turned his head, lowering his voice.

“And you—why do you seek the audience?”

“I, I…”

Misha hesitated for a moment, then replied firmly, “I want to avenge my grandfather. He sacrificed himself during the Magur incident.”

Ramp responded indifferently, “Then your wish should have been fulfilled. Just two months ago, Marshal Dolores led the Kingdom Army to annihilate the Northern Allied Forces, the kingdom already avenged you.”

Misha shook her head vigorously, gritting her teeth, “No, it isn’t over yet. It was that damned Leo Boske who orchestrated the incident, he escaped by using a demon’s power, and has yet to face judgment.”

“I want to kill him with my own hands.”

Tears welled up in Misha’s eyes, a flash of firelight glimmering in her pupils.

“Interesting.”

A glimmer of amusement appeared in Ramp’s eyes. He casually waved his hand to the surrounding guards.

“Disperse. She’s just a brave child, no need to be overly cautious around her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“As you command.”

The guards sensibly withdrew.

Then, the massive ogre slowly squatted down, his formidable body like a mountain of flesh—even as he squatted, he was far taller than the girl in front of him.

Ramp looked down into the girl’s brown eyes and asked softly, “Child, tell me, what’s your name?”

“Misha, my name is Misha.”

“That… is the name my grandfather John gave me.”

Misha summoned all her courage, raising her head to meet the ogre’s eyes. Her voice no longer trembled.

Ramp stood up and said with a smile, “Very well, Misha.”

“Come, I will take you to the Royal Palace. I believe the king will be eager to meet you.”

The Ogre Archmage lightly raised his magic wand, an invisible force lifting both him and Misha, making them float in mid-air.

“Ah.”

Misha couldn’t help but cry out in surprise but quickly suppressed her excitement, only occasionally glancing curiously at the ground.

It all felt like a dream.

The half-goat people beat their war drums again, playing heroic and stirring military music. The attendants quickly formed neat lines, once again clustering around Ramp to continue the procession.

The triumphal ceremony continued, and the surrounding crowd buzzed with envy, wishing they could rush up and take her place, standing beside the ogre.

“Who is she? To be qualified to stay beside Lord Ramp?”

“What a lucky person.”

“So envious…”

“Yes, to be favored by the Prime Minister, another important figure might be about to emerge.”