Book 3, Chapter 132

One Hit Kill

The Plumed Windsnake had a grade 3 barrier, a grade 2 cast speed buff, and an elementary damage buff. This allowed its user to set up their defences on a moment’s notice, preparing for a battle of affinities and mana pools. Providing a boost to spell penetration, cast speed, and magic damage, the staff had established its reputation as an excellent weapon for mages.

It was quite clear that the Mensas had prepared for this battle. Young Mensa was already two levels higher than Richard, and armed to the teeth as he was the audience saw only one outcome in this battle. Everyone knew that the Archerons were dirt poor, that Gaton had built his family up from almost nothing. They were known as the only powerful family in Faust without any legendary weapons, but of course it was hard to call them powerful now either. Richard didn’t have any time to prepare; even if he wanted to borrow from his allies, it would be lucky to even get epic gear within this short period of time.

Mensa specifically prepared for the battle in the open so he could add on to the pressure Richard was facing. Battles between mages always held an element of uncertainty to them; even confident in his win, he wanted to disrupt Richard’s state of mind and force mistakes.

It didn’t take long for Richard to appear from the changing rooms, crossing paths with Young Mensa. Dressed in his epic gear, the youth drew close to Richard and waved the staff in his hands, “See the Plumed Windsnake? You’re dead!”

Richard remained uncaring as he appraised the staff, saying meaningfully, “Not bad.”

Young Mensa raised his voice once more, his expression serious, “I’ll be waiting for you on the battlefield.” He then took big steps towards the arena, not bothering about the fact that Frodo’s corpse was still being cleaned up. Richard smiled; he knew this opponent was afraid of him spending time to recuperate.

Inside the Emperor’s booth, Nyris was enraged. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted.

Second Prince Neil smiled innocently, as though he had no thoughts on the matter. On the other hand, the Third Prince stared coldly at his brother as he spoke sardonically, “The winner takes all, the loser has no right to complain.”

Nyris just smirked at that, with no intentions of meeting the provocation. It was Emperor Philip who actually turned around, “All of you will meet such opponents in the future. Think of how you would face them.”

The three princes nodded their heads, stopping all conversation. Richard was once again the centre of all attention as he walked towards Gangdor, a simple gesture telling the brute of his intentions. A magic chest was placed on the ground and opened, revealing its contents.

Richard first took out a necklace and wore it, before pulling out a staff that looked ancient. He finally drew a long blade and placed it on his back.

The staff Richard was holding was rather unique. Although it wasn’t as flashy as the Plumed Windsnake, the fallen angel wing on its head was far more memorable.

“Twin of Destiny! It’s a Twin of Destiny!” someone shouted from the crowd.

The audience immediately erupted. The Twins of Destiny were said to have been used by high priestess Ferlyn of the Church of the Eternal Dragon. They had accompanied her on her journey through the myriad planes, establishing a great reputation. Ferlyn was also known as the two-faced mirror, equally skilled at both healing and offence.

Someone also recognised the long blade on Richard’s back. However, compared to the Twin of Destiny the Schumpeter Family’s heirloom was nothing. Only when Extinction and Annihilation were together did they achieve legendary strength.

Although the Twin of Destiny in Richard’s hands was only one half of a whole as well, just the fallen angel staff was much more powerful than the Plumed Windsnake. The Holy Angel was unsuited for mages anyway.

Already in the arena, Young Mensa grew upset. Thankfully Richard took no breaks, not even drinking a mana potion before he walked in.

Young Mensa held tightly onto his staff, constantly reminding himself that it wasn’t too much weaker than the Twin of Destiny. He was also a good two levels stronger than Richard; even ignoring the Plumed Windsnake, the Twin of Destiny would only be able to narrow the gap between them. Was Richard right, did he not have the courage to fight a fair battle? Only now did the youth realise just how terrified he was.

And yet, he didn’t know why. Every statistic assured him that his chances of winning were over 90%. In fact, it was a flip of a coin whether he would even suffer any significant injuries at all. Richard had even gone through an additional battle just before and exhausted eight fireballs’ worth of mana. WHY WAS HE AFRAID?

The steamroll against Frodo was likely what had resulted in the shock, the youth consoled himself. How could such a thing be repeated again? Maybe he was just afraid of Richard’s momentum.

Richard entered the battlefield and walked towards Young Mensa, only stopping when they were thirty metres apart as per the standard agreement. Emperor Philip’s stare grew sharper when he noticed the gait.

Young Mensa laid his eyes on the sword on Richard’s back, forcing himself to act relaxed as he asked, “I’ve never encountered a mage carrying a blade to the battlefield. Can you tell me why?”

Richard flashed a malicious smile, “I’ll tell you after the battle is over!”

On the viewing platform, Duke Mensa turned to Duke Schumpeter and smiled, “The blade on Richard’s back comes from your family, no?”

Dario sighed heavily in anger, “It’s all because of Sinclair, that useless thing!”

Duke Mensa remained relaxed, “It’s alright, it will return to its rightful owner in some time.”

The gates of the arena were then closed, the referee walking to one of the corners and giving the signal to begin. Richard’s smile immediately melted away, making him seem like an entirely different person.

Philip heaved a prideful sigh, pointing to Richard, “This youth might go even further than Gaton!”

This was a statement that even shocked the Fourth Prince; Nyris hadn’t expected Philip to give Richard such high accolades. Still, he wasn’t confident of Richard’s chances in this battle.

The grand mage pointed his finger upwards, a golden fireball shooting into the sky. The battle had started!

Young Mensa raised his staff immediately, adding extra physical and magic barriers before buffing his speed. However, that still didn’t seem to be enough. He continued to buff himself, finishing within a few seconds what a normal mage would take half a minute to complete.

Richard raised the Twin of Destiny, beginning a chant. The black wing of the staff started to glimmer, and everyone well-versed in magic instantly knew that he was casting a grade 6 spell. This wouldn’t be enough to break through the defences of Young Mensa. This didn’t conform to the standard style of a duel between mages. If Young Mensa survived the first attack, his reply would be lethal.

A red glow flashed on Richard’s face before making its way to the staff. He raised it up, slightly moving it forward. A thick beam of crimson light appeared in the sky, falling down on and engulfing Young Mensa in his entirety.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment. The bolt of blood-lightning weathered away Young Mensa’s barriers, his face turning from pale white to raging red before eventually turning black. A powerful ball of fire suddenly came out of Young Mensa’s body, burning brightly before dying down in an instant.

Everything had happened too quickly for the audience to respond. *BOOM!* A thunderous roar suddenly rocked the entire arena, the deafening explosion ringing out in all directions. Anyone with even a basic understanding of magic stood up, shell-shocked. The crimson lightning was still burning brightly in their eyes, an imprint that terrified them to near death.

How could a lightning bolt be so huge? That lightning bolt was beyond the understanding of everyone present, the ultimate destructive force of a grade 8 spell coming out of a grade 6 chant. And yet, it wasn’t all destruction; they could feel the power of life within that strike.

Young Mensa was already burnt from head to toe, lying paralysed on the ground. His body was trembling, his ability to battle clearly lost. Outside of the Plumed Windsnake and his other epic gear, everything else on him had been burnt away.

Richard tried his best to overcome the emptiness in his body, steadying his consciousness. The mana within him was almost depleted, sending him down to level 11 in an instant. Far too much of his life force and mana had been depleted for that attack, but it had succeeded in overpowering Young Mensa in one shot.

The referee looked blankly at Richard, but he didn’t announce the results of the battle. A duel could only end if one side died or the winner agreed to stop. Young Mensa was badly injured, but he wasn’t dead. Richard took big strides in his opponent’s direction.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Duke Mensa suddenly shouted from the platform.

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OMA's Thoughts

Translated By: JT

Edited By: Theo

TLC'ed By: OMA