Germort looked at Siderius' soaking blade. He gulped then stood up. Green magic poured out from under his sleeves and punctured into the ground.
"Oh? Ancient Magic. I haven't seen that for a long time." Siderius said.
"Ancient Magic? What are you saying, young wicca?" Germort tried to form a smile on his face to hide his anxiety. But the beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed him.
"The original dark arts. Or some like to call it, Wicked Magic. The beginning of your witches kind.
Nowadays, witches use all types of magic. Fire, water, wind. Then there are some even obscure ones that become really successful. Lust, Nightmare, Gluttony. But they are simply descendants.
The first one is what you just used, Bailiff. Magic of the trees..."
As Siderius finished his sentences, roots burst out from beneath the ground and shot at his direction. He laughed loud and long.
