Black Hearted Mage

As the referee's high-pitched voice echoed throughout the arena, announcing "Caesars wins," the magical barrier enveloping the field slowly faded like flowing water. Caesars bowed slightly to the audience in thanks, then headed for the dugout amidst deafening cheers. As he passed the edge of the arena, he caught a glimpse of the two-story-tall magical image, flashing the latest odds on the betting—his match against Morris had been at 2-1, but now the numbers were rapidly updating.

"It seems the dealer has finally realized that he underestimated me."

A smile crossed Kaisas's lips, and he touched the magic blade at his waist. The one thousand gold coin bet had grown to three thousand in less than two minutes, and his stake would be doubled in the next match. This thought delighted him as he pushed open the oak door to the lounge.

The lounge was filled with the fragrance of oak. Caesars quickly walked to the sofa and sat down, taking out a bottle of aged fire maple wine and a few pieces of golden cheese from his space ring. He then realized that he had rushed to the competition since early morning and had not yet eaten breakfast.

"Emily, we just made a net profit of 2,000 gold coins each!"

As Caesars spoke, he pulled out the cork of the wine bottle with force. The red-amber wine shone like honey under the light.

"But now the odds have been adjusted to 1 to 1.5." He tilted his head back and took a big gulp of wine. The mellow aroma with the sweetness of maple syrup instantly dispelled the fatigue of the battle.

He casually tossed two pieces of cheese, one landing precisely in the mouth of the puppy lying beside him, while the other was deftly caught by the tail of a small black snake hovering in the air. The snake hissed with satisfaction and rubbed its head affectionately against Caesar's wrist.

"Really!"

Emily jumped up from the sofa, but then pouted and said somewhat dissatisfiedly: "But I don't have to play today. There are too many low-level magicians who signed up, and my challenge has been scheduled for tomorrow morning!" She kicked the wool carpet under her feet in frustration, but the soft and thick carpet did not make any sound.

Caesars swallowed the golden cheese in his mouth - this cheese mixed with ice grass can quickly replenish a small amount of magic power - and reached out to pat the girl's shoulder.

"Listen, Emily, the later you go on stage, the better it will be for you." He glanced at the magic hourglass on the wall. Five minutes had already passed. "At least half of the contestants will be eliminated today. Actually, I didn't have to go on stage today..." His voice dropped. "It's all because of that assassin the other night. The great magician I killed was a contestant!"

There was a sudden knock on the door of the lounge, and the referee's voice came from outside: "Mr. Kaisas, the next challenge will begin in fifteen minutes."

"I see!"

Caesars shouted towards the door, quickly stuffing a few pieces of cheese into his mouth and taking a large gulp of wine. Twenty minutes of rest was a bit short, but he had barely used any mana.

At this moment, the maid handed over a piece of parchment. Between the fine leather texture, dark red ink densely inscribed the challenger's information. Caesars's slender fingers traced the paper. The emblems of the first seven great magicians were all the distinctive heraldry of the Redstone Kingdom. It was not until the eighth line that the silver cross of the Saint Laurent Empire appeared. Each name was followed by detailed information about their age and the magical element they specialized in.

Just as the magic hourglass in the lounge was about to run out, the bronze magic clock embedded in the wall suddenly burst into blue light, and the referee's old voice spread throughout the arena through the amplification magic: "Second match, Caesars vs. Oleg!"

Amid the lingering sound of the bell, Caesars casually tossed the parchment to Emily, and his spider silk robe inlaid with silver edges drew a sharp arc as he turned around.

"I hope I don't run into another old fellow with brittle bones who makes me afraid to use magic!"

Caesar adjusted the magic protective bracelet and deliberately made a complaining sound that Emily could hear. The other party laughed so hard that she fell backwards while holding the parchment.

As Caesars entered the amphitheater, the audience erupted in thunderous cheers. In the north stand, a merchant in an exaggerated feathered hat excitedly waved bills, while behind him, more than twenty commoners jingled their money bags—evidently, these people had won gold by betting on Caesars. Magical light filtered through the crystal prisms in the dome, casting a shifting hexagram of light at Caesars' feet.

His opponent slowly stepped out from the opposite side, an elderly man in a dark brown bark robe. Although the parchment listed his age as "one hundred and seventy-three," Oleg's steps were more steady than those of many younger men. Every strike of his thorn staff against the ground caused a ripple of red magic. As the two men stood thirty meters apart in the center of the field, Oleg's robe suddenly moved without a breeze.

As soon as the first syllable of the referee's magic whistle sounded, Kaisas had completed three buff spells and a short shadow arrow whizzed out.

Ogle swung the thorn staff in his hand, and the magic shield was immediately activated. The audience erupted in exclamations. Neither side's spells required chanting.

Kaisas's lips curled up in excitement; he had been waiting for an opponent of this caliber. The opponent's instantaneous fireball spell was indeed cast quickly, the orange-red fireball emitting a sharp whistling sound as it cut through the air, but Kaisas's low-level shadow bolts were even faster—his slender fingers quickly traced two dark purple lines in the air, and each hand unleashed a shadow bolt, the arrows wrapped in an ominous black mist.

The first shadow arrow accurately met the fireball. The two distinct magical energies collided in mid-air, erupting in a dazzling purple-red light. The aftermath of the magic ripples stirred a gentle breeze across the arena. The other shadow arrow, like a venomous snake, streaked towards Ogle, its tail trailing a faint purple-black trail.

Ogle didn't dodge. He stood still, allowing the shadow bolt to strike the pale red magic shield swirling around him. Ripples spread across the shield's surface like water. Ogle narrowed his eyes slightly, and by the amplitude and frequency of the shield's vibrations, he accurately determined the shadow bolt's attack power—roughly equivalent to a third-tier spell, yet cast at an astonishingly fast speed.

This was a tacit, tentative attack, carried out by both sides. Ogle's eyes, hidden beneath his long, silver-white brows, gleamed with brilliance as he assessed his young opponent's magical proficiency. Meanwhile, Caesars, observing the magical fluctuations as his shadow bolt dismantled the fireball, keenly grasped the magical properties of the opponent's fireball—fierce and violent, the spell controlled with exceptional precision.

It's not easy for a low-level shadow bolt to break the archmage's shield. Kaisas quickly calculated in his mind that it would take at least a hundred consecutive attacks.

After a few tentative fireball attacks, Ogle suddenly changed his strategy. He began forming complex hand seals, his deep, hoarse chants echoing across the training ground. Caesars pricked up his ears, keenly catching six or seven compressed, condensed syllables—clearly a spell honed through countless refinements, the once lengthy chant condensed by this experienced master mage into its most essential essence.

Caesars unconsciously tensed his body. He could sense the magical elements around him converging towards Ogle at an alarming rate. This tentative contest was about to enter a new phase.

As Ogleto raised his right hand, the scorching fireball tracing a twisting trajectory through the air, a dark glint flashed in Caesar's eyes. His slender fingers swiftly traced the air, and two shadow arrows shimmering with a faint purple light instantly took shape, their shafts entwined with a terrifying dark energy. With a piercing whistle, the intermediate shadow arrows tore through the air at astonishing speed, piercing the oncoming fireball with pinpoint accuracy.

"boom!"

A violent collision of energy exploded in mid-air, shattering the fireball into countless scattered sparks. The remaining momentum of the shadow bolt, still lingering, carried the remaining dark energy as it fiercely slammed into Ogle's hastily erected magic shield, stirring up violent energy ripples.

Ogle's pupils suddenly constricted, and a drop of cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He hadn't expected his massive fireball to be so easily intercepted. Normally, a duel between magicians involved either dodging or resisting. Who would have considered using a direct attack? Even more terrifying was the speed of the shadow bolt, so fast he didn't even have time to react.

In the referee's booth, several highly respected great magicians straightened up simultaneously. Master Videl's white eyebrows almost reached his hairline. He turned to Kandel beside him and said, "Old friend, you and Caesars have known each other for many years. Have you ever seen such a swift Shadow Bolt? This speed is simply..."

"It's violent spellcasting..."

Kandel gently stroked his long, silvery beard, appearing calm on the surface, but his fingers unconsciously tightened within his sleeves. "Kasas's magic sea is deep and his magic veins are exceptionally strong, capable of withstanding more than double the magic output." He spoke lightly, yet within him, a turbulent storm surged—how could the boy who once fed black magic snakes in the Alchemy Tower have grown to this point?

Videl keenly sensed something fishy and pressed the issue, "Since Caesars was so gifted, why did the Northland Tower give him to the Thorn Flower Trading Company?"

The air suddenly froze, Kandel's beard trembling slightly, and he was speechless for a moment. Then, Joanna's clear voice broke the silence: "Back then, Caesars only showed an affinity for the dark element, far less dazzling than it is now. More importantly... the golden-eyed black snakes of the Alchemy Tower never attacked him!"

"That's right!"

Kandel took over the conversation, a complex expression on his face. "That kid even carried the hatched snakes in his arms and stuffed them under his covers when he slept." He couldn't help but shudder as he spoke. "Just imagining those cold, slippery little things slithering around in my clothes makes my legs go weak."

"Raised as a personal pet?" Videl gasped.

"Not only that!" Kandel said with a wry smile, "Sometimes those little demons would crawl out from his sleeves, coil around his neck and spit their tongues. The apprentices in the tower would avoid them when they saw them, and no one dared to provoke Caesars!"

The audience erupted in exclamations. Although the magic exchanges on the field lacked dazzling light and shadow effects, each attack and defense was breathtaking. Caesars was increasing his spellcasting rhythm at an astonishing rate. He keenly sensed Ogle's weakness—the massive fireball that was gathering was the flaw he had been waiting for.

Caesar's hands flew. Initially, his two-handed spellcasting could only release two intermediate Shadow Bolts, but now it had surpassed its limit. He unleashed four Shadow Bolts simultaneously, darting across the field with ghostly flashes. This high-speed movement clearly disrupted Ogle's rhythm—beads of sweat beaded on the elderly mage's forehead as he struggled under the barrage of Shadow Bolts. Even more devastating, Caesar noticed a noticeable delay in his spellcasting whenever Ogle attempted to move.

"So he's just an old idiot who can only cast spells while standing still!" Caesars sneered inwardly and immediately adjusted his tactics. He switched to single-handed casting. Although the number of his shadow bolts was reduced to three, their flight speed suddenly increased, and the dark elemental arrows even glowed with a dangerous dark purple light.

Just as Ogle was concentrating on chanting the spell, and the fireball in his hand had just formed, three shadow bolts struck like venomous snakes from treacherous angles, piercing the massive fireball. The fire element is positive energy, while the darkness element is negative energy. When the two collided, the fire element in the massive fireball became unbalanced, triggering an explosion similar to a fireball exploding.

With a deafening roar, uncontrolled flames exploded in Ogle's hand, and blood immediately gushed out from his charred palm. The old mage was straightforward. He turned and raised his injured hand to the referee, hoarsely shouting his surrender.

Amidst the thunderous cheers, Caesars stood motionless. He stared at the referee with a piercing gaze and gestured with his right hand to proceed—he was about to begin the next challenge. Those hypocritical Saint Laurent Church members should be taught a lesson sooner rather than later.

"I was injured by Ogle's spell. What if my hand is crippled?"

One referee asked a difficult question, and the other referees also realized the loophole in the rules, but they had never encountered such a situation before.

"The rules of the tournament can't be changed right now. Even if Ogle's hand is truly crippled, it can't be blamed on Caesars. Being injured by his own spell, can the opponent be blamed?"

Kandel put forward his own opinion, which is also the most reasonable explanation and is more biased towards Caesars.

"Kandel is right. This was not intentional to cripple the opponent. It could only be considered an accident at best!" Joanna added quickly.

Just as the referees were whispering to each other, the third challenge ended and Caesars' opponent voluntarily admitted defeat.

"It seems they didn't have any competition, not a single spell was cast!"

One of the referees was a little confused. He had just been discussing the disabled matters and had not paid attention to what was happening in the arena.

"The rules allow you to admit defeat! Caesars cast a weird spell and his opponent just admitted defeat," another referee explained.