Several months ago, Old John's body was burned in a fire set by soldiers.

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

It was as if a raging fire was burning in her heart, wrapping her body tightly and making her curl up in the corner, unable to extricate herself.

At that moment, she suddenly discovered that she had the ability to create and control fire. It seemed like an innate talent that was stimulated by the death of Old John.

"Clap."

Misha spread out her palms, and a ball of dancing flame burned in her palms.

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

"Release this power, maybe this will attract the attention of Lord Trump."

"I might even be able to gain His Majesty's attention, and then avenge Old John personally."

Fire also ignited in her brown pupils, whether it was a reflection of the flame on her hand or a reaction to her changing mood.

Misha slowly raised her hand.

"boom!"

With the sound of air exploding, a long dragon of fire was released from her palm and immediately shot straight into the sky.

Flames suddenly burst out in the sky, and scattered sparks flew everywhere.

"What it is?"

"It's a spell!"

"It's so hot! Get out of here!"

Under this high temperature, the air was slightly distorted, and the people around were in chaos, all fleeing in panic.

"It's an enemy attack!"

"Protect Lord Trump!"

"Damn it! Who dares to charge into the army?"

The surrounding servants armed with steel guns rushed into the panicked crowd, looking for the source of the spell, but only found a girl who was only eight or nine years old.

"You don't have to look for me anymore, it's me."

Misha looked directly at the servants without hiding anything. She spread out her hands, revealing the dancing flames in her palms.

"It's that girl!"

"It's her!"

"She was the one casting the spell just now! Catch her!"

The captain of the guard quickly raised his spear and shouted loudly. He didn't want to fail in his duty under the personal supervision of Chief Minister Trump.

The guards around also gathered around nervously, constantly tightening the circle, preparing to capture the unidentified spellcaster.

Suddenly, Trump's voice rang out.

"Stop."

"Don't be too nervous. How can the fire hurt me?"

"You, you are right."

The captain of the guards quickly lowered his head and responded nervously.

Trump slowly descended from mid-air and lightly tapped the ground with his staff. He looked down at the girl who was surrounded by the army not far away.

He was watching carefully.

He looked to be about eight or nine years old, with a petite and thin figure, and some dirt on his smooth skin, but there was no sign of dragonization.

The girl was trembling all over because of extreme nervousness, but she still looked at him from a distance with a firm and stubborn look in her eyes. She was not frightened by the tense situation.

According to Trump's estimation, the power of the spell just cast has reached the level of the third ring - that is to say, she was very likely born with a talent close to that of a fifth-level warlock!

Suddenly, Trump narrowed his eyes slightly, revealing an interested expression.

"A natural born sorcerer?"

"It is rare to have this level of spellcasting ability without experiencing a gift."

"She could be a strength for the kingdom."

Thinking of this, Trump walked forward slowly. He smiled, thinking he was particularly kind, and said softly, "Don't be too nervous, kid. I am Trump, the chief minister of the kingdom."

"Is there something wrong with you?" However, Misha looked up and saw the huge figure of the ogre looming over her. A strange smile appeared on its ugly face, and even its long and curved fangs were exposed.

She seemed to be able to smell the blood coming towards her.

But in the end, with the support of her will, she was not frightened, but her body was shaking like a sieve.

Misha finally spoke timidly: "Lang, Mr. Trump."

"me"

She gritted her teeth and remained silent for a moment, and finally made a decision: "I want to see His Majesty!"

"Oh?"

"Lord Trump, I want to see His Majesty."

Misha pleaded again, her words were weak but exceptionally firm and sincere.

Trump shook his head slowly, tapped the ground with his staff again, and turned halfway: "There are countless people who want to see your Majesty. They are for wealth, power, strength, or just want to admire your majestic figure."

He turned his head and lowered his voice.

"And you—and for what?"

"me"

Misha hesitated for a moment, but still answered firmly: "I want to avenge my grandfather, who died in the Magur Incident."

Rump replied calmly, "Then your wish should have come true. Just two months ago, Marshal Doro led the Kingdom's army to annihilate the Northern Alliance. The Kingdom has avenged you."

Misha shook her head vigorously and said through gritted teeth:

"No, it's not over yet. It was that damned Leo Bosco who planned the incident. He escaped with the help of the devil's power and has not yet received the proper trial."

"I'm going to kill him myself."

Misha's eyes were filled with tears, and a flash of fire suddenly appeared in her pupils.

"interesting."

A smile suddenly appeared in Trump's eyes, and he waved casually to the guards around him.

"Just go away. She's just a brave child. There's no need to be so wary of her."

"Yes, my lord."

"I obey your orders."

The guards tactfully withdrew.

Then, the huge ogre slowly half-crouched down, his sturdy body like a mountain of flesh - even when squatting, he was much taller than the girl in front of him.

Trump looked down into the girl's brown eyes and asked softly, "Tell me, kid, what's your name?"

"Misha, my name is Misha."

“That’s the name my grandpa John gave me.”

Misha mustered up all her courage, raised her head and looked directly into the ogre's eyes, her voice no longer trembling.

Trump stood up and said with a smile:

"Very good, Misha."

"Come, I will take you to the palace. I believe His Majesty will be happy to see you."

The Ogre Mage raised his staff slightly, and an invisible force lifted both him and Misha up, allowing them to float in the air.

"what."

Misha couldn't help but let out a cry of surprise, but she suppressed her excitement and only occasionally looked at the ground curiously.

It all seemed like a dream.

The satyrs once again beat the war drums and played passionate military music, while the attendants quickly formed an orderly queue and once again surrounded Trump and marched forward.

The triumphal ceremony continued, and the crowd around was talking about it and envious of it - they wanted to rush up and take its place, to be the one standing next to the ogre.

"Who is she? How can she be qualified to follow Lord Trump?"

"What a lucky guy."

“Enviable”

"Yes, to be recognized by the Chief Minister, I'm afraid another great man is about to be born." (End of this chapter)