Wizard Bloodline.

Chapter 469 Tactics
In the dimly lit space, a point of deep purple light shone forth.

Like a shining star, it plummeted rapidly, leaving a scorching trail in the void before opening to both sides, and a figure slowly emerged from behind the rapidly passing light.

Ronan calmly surveyed his surroundings, using himself as an anchor point, and in his perception, this space was constantly "tilting" to the left.

The tilting is so slow, and there is a force trying to correct the tilt, that it is almost imperceptible.

Ronan's eyes flickered slightly.

This level-seven battlefield is almost separated from the outside world by only "a wall," and is a space that has been temporarily opened up and reinforced.

The Upper Ring Continent is not incapable of withstanding a battle fought by a level seven wizard at full strength, but the aftermath of the battle will inevitably lead to drastic changes in the environment and the collapse of order. The Ancient Wizard Resurrection Society naturally does not care about this, so the location of the battlefield was chosen by their side.

Ronan flew forward following the direction of the tilted space.

Even with the amplified mental power from the Archon Set, Ronan couldn't accurately pinpoint the exact locations of several level seven wizards. He didn't know the specifics of battles between level seven wizards, so he could only try to get closer to their approximate locations little by little.

The feeling of "omniscience and omnipotence" and "king of magic" that Ronan experienced when he first put on the Magic Armor set faded away like the tide. He began to clearly realize that this was a "trap" derived from the laws of nature.

In this world, you have to pay a price for anything you want to get. Power that suddenly appears out of nowhere creates a false sense of invincibility. Once you get addicted to it, you'll become the next Juventus.

The power of the Magic Set still exists, but it is gradually becoming more grounded and realistic.

"The single-use power amplification is the same as wearing the magic-controlling armband alone, which is one hundred times greater."

However, such an increase could occur nine times in a row.

Ronan carefully considered the specific effects of the Magic Armor Set. Even though he had expected it, he was still shocked by the calculated results.

Nine increases of 100 times are not additions, but multiplications.

The difference between major wizarding levels is always more than a hundred times, while the difference between minor levels is usually more than ten times.

If we calculate it this way, the full amplification effect of the Magic Protection Set can elevate a level 1 wizard to a level that can rival a level 6 wizard!
That's true in theory, but it's practically impossible in reality.

Amplifying a level one wizard to the level of a level six wizard is like filling an ant with water and making it swell to the size of an elephant.

Even if water is continuously poured in, the ant still has to be able to withstand it.

It's possible that with one or two amplifications, the ant would be blasted to pieces by the rapidly expanding power within its body.

"The existence of the Magic Armor set has greatly relieved the wearer of this pressure, which may be why the Magic Armor set is now on the verge of breaking down?"

Ronan didn't know how many times Juventus had used the magic set to amplify their power during their match against him, but it should have been no more than three times.

If it happened four times, he wouldn't have survived that battle, and neither would Juventus.

Given the current state of the Magic Set, two consecutive amplifications would almost reach the limit that the set could withstand. Ronan considered that if he added the resilience of his Ancient Demon Body, he might be able to barely trigger three amplifications.

"Three increases, a million-fold increase. Of course, this is the theoretical maximum value of unlimited energy. In reality, it is impossible to have that much, but it is enough to pose a threat to level seven."

As for the extent of the threat, it is impossible to predict; we will have to wait and see how it fares in actual combat.

Ronan was not so pure and selfless. He was willing to take risks and actively participate in the battle of the seventh level, not only to add the final weight to his side's victory, but also to experience the combat methods between the seventh level in advance.

This will have an invisible but enormous benefit to his future promotion.

Ronan flew through the space, but this space called the Battlefield was so quiet that it seemed as if he were the only one there.

Before long, something else began to appear in his field of vision.

—It was an old oil painting that had been torn in half.

It floats silently in mid-air, as if it has always existed.

The oil paint on it seems to have been eroded by time; what was originally painted is no longer visible, leaving only a mottled mess.

Ronan slowly approached, and when he was almost a hundred meters away from the painting, he suddenly felt a slight unease, but he didn't know where the unease came from.

He stopped instinctively, and when he looked down, he was shocked to see that his entire right hand was covered with various dark, viscous liquids, like rotten oil paint.

He suddenly retreated, until he was quite far away, before the strange condition on his hand gradually began to subside and improve.

Level 7.

Ronan stared at the half of the eerie oil painting in the distance, his relaxed expression vanishing and turning slightly serious.

If he wasn't mistaken, this should be the trace of magic left behind by a level seven wizard, and he had just been radiated by the residual power, which was why his body was slowly "painted".

He remembered that Arahan had said that a wizard who wanted to advance to the seventh level must have mastered the rules of a spell to perfection.

The combined power of a spell at the perfect level of rules, along with the unique bloodline power of a level seven wizard, is unimaginable to anyone below level seven.

Just now, without his noticing, he was eroded by that strange power. His mental field, energy field, innocent body, and the defenses of the magic armor all lost their effectiveness and became useless.

"But it's unknown which level seven student left this."

Ronan considered several candidates but couldn't make a decision, and he suppressed any remaining contempt in his mind.

He carefully bypassed the remaining half of the oil painting and continued forward.

Then, in the void, he saw a broken stone staircase railing, a bookshelf burning fiercely, and an ice sculpture of a sparrow missing one wing.
Having learned from his initial experience, Ronan bypassed them one by one until he was drawn to a faint light in front of him.

He stood still, but the scene in the light rapidly magnified before his eyes.

-

An enormous platinum face, without facial features, only eight eye socket-like depressions.

A continuous stream of viscous black liquid flowed down from the eight eye sockets, rapidly disintegrating in the void and transforming into countless tiny insects, like flies, that danced in the air.

"Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-"

The sound of countless mosquitoes flapping their wings entered Ronan's mind, mixed with a kind of howl that seemed to be in pain, sorrow, joy, or anger.

Ronan's expression unconsciously shifted with the emotions woven into his howls. His eyes gradually became vacant as he walked step by step toward the eerie platinum face.

Ronan was clearly aware that something was wrong with his current state, but he had no way to control his body.

His mind and body seemed to be drawn to and controlled by the enormous platinum face in front of him and the constant voice in his head, and he could only watch helplessly as he slid toward danger.

Just then, a crystal of ice, more dazzling than a diamond, silently streaked past his eyes, landing somewhere in the void, and exploding into a small puddle of snowflakes with a "ding-dong".

In an instant, as if icy water had been poured over him from head to toe, the eerie power that had been lingering over his body and mind vanished. Ronan suddenly "woke up," his eyes wide with shock as he quickly retreated.

"You shouldn't have come in."

A magnetic middle-aged male voice rang in my ears.

Ronan turned around quickly and met a pair of gentle and serene eyes.

"Narros!"

Narros, clad in a decaying robe, floated silently in the dim void, his long, black hair, reaching past his feet, cascading around him like seaweed just pulled from the sea, drifting without a sound.

Beside him stood a beautiful, dignified, and elegant woman who was bowing respectfully to Ronan.

"My king."

Ronan quickly returned the greeting, but his gaze remained fixed on Narros.

"Your battle is over. This is not a battlefield for you to tread. You should not have entered rashly..."

Ronan ignored Narros's words and turned to look in the direction of the platinum face again. This time, he noticed that under the huge platinum face, there was a tall and majestic figure sitting quietly cross-legged.

The man's face was covered with a dense swarm of white flies, giving him a creepy and disgusting appearance. Although Ronan couldn't make out his features, he still recognized him.

"The White Witch King!"

Ronan's expression turned slightly serious, and he immediately asked, "What about the others?"

Narros did not answer, but the elegant woman beside him raised her staff and gently touched Ronan's brow.

An indescribable chill crept into Ronan's mind, and his "vision" seemed to be suddenly and violently opened.

Layer upon layer of "veils" within the space were lifted before Ronan's eyes, and a scene quickly unfolded before him—

He saw countless small, roughly hand-stitched plush bears, each the size of a palm, with sharp claws and teeth, and eerie black light shining from their button eyes, running, charging, and howling wildly in one space.
In a pile of plush bears that was almost as dense as an ocean, a giant worm covered with black wings was constantly writhing and rolling. With each roll, its wings flapped, and a large number of plush bears were burned to ashes or crushed into dust.

There were also enormous, silvery creatures, whose exact form was difficult to discern, swimming intermittently within the sea of ​​plush bears.

Although more and more bizarre plush bears are created out of thin air every moment, that ocean of plush is still rapidly shrinking.
"The Black Witch King Lindis and Golini..."

Ronan murmured, recognizing the identities of the individuals represented by the various forces within the battle group.

He hadn't expected that this great battle between the seven levels would be divided into two battle groups, each forming a "two against one" situation, as if the two sides had reached some kind of strange tacit understanding.

Judging from the current situation, the battle on the Black Witch King's side is far more intense than the battle here.

"Even if you join forces, you still can't defeat the White Witch King?"

Ronan spoke.

Narros glanced at him and said calmly, "He has completely gotten rid of the decaying blood. If we classify him according to the pre-dawn realm, he would be considered to be in the mid-stage of level seven."

My strength is comparable to his, and even with the addition of the Frost Leader, it would be difficult to defeat him in a short time.

"The difference in strength isn't overwhelming; battles at level seven or higher often require years to determine a winner."

"Is the situation similar on the Black Witch King's side?"

"Do not."

Narros shook his head and said, "He won't live that long."

Ronan fell silent for a moment.

After a moment, he looked up and said, "What if we add another level seven combatant?"

Narros squinted, his gaze slowly sweeping over Ronan's swaying body.

"Based on that suit you're wearing?"

"and this."

Ronan stretched out his hand, and his palm seemed to transform into a tiny black hole. Within a slightly swirling nebula vortex, a golden warhammer, entwined with tiny bolts of lightning and flames, slowly emerged.

This small warhammer seemed to contain an unimaginable and terrifying storm. The moment it appeared, it caused a small patch of the surrounding void to collapse naturally, and an indescribable terrifying aura emanated from it.

"Twilight Rank Magic Item"

Narros uttered a soft sound and reached out to grab the golden warhammer.

However, it was halted by the mysterious runes formed from the countless bolts of lightning and flames that erupted from the warhammer in an instant, making it difficult to continue.

"It doesn't approve of me."

Narros shook his head.

"I can use it."

Ronan calmly replied, "But only once."

He was not clear about the reason, perhaps because Juventus had briefly "tamed" the Hammer of Corinth, and after his death, Ronan, who was also wearing the full set of Archon armor, indirectly inherited this "approval".

Although it's not much, it's enough to make use of.

Narros fell into a brief moment of thought, then frowned slightly and said, "Even with the help of this Twilight artifact, you have the ability to unleash level seven combat power for a short period of time."

But it would be difficult to defeat the White Witch King in one fell swoop.

Why choose the White Witch King?

Ronan's eyes flickered, and he replied in a low voice with a strange expression, "Since we've chosen to do this, we should naturally pick the weakest target to squeeze."

Narros paused slightly, then instinctively asked, "Who do you think is the pushover?"

Ronan turned his head, his deep gaze falling on another battleground, his eyes locking onto someone, and he spoke softly: "The more one indulges in the illusion of power, the more one is lost in the power... the weaker one becomes."

(End of this chapter)