Black Hearted Mage

Caesars won six matches in a row, each one without a doubt. His opponents either paled under the overwhelming pressure of magic and surrendered, or were struck by incomprehensible spells and effortlessly thrown out of the arena.

As his winning streak continued to break records, the bookmakers had already lowered Caesar's odds to an outrageous degree. Yet, a large number of spectators continued to bet on Caesar, because the game had a minimum payout, and no matter how low the odds were, they could not fall below this amount - this was stipulated by the laws of the Red Stone Kingdom.

Returning to the exclusive lounge, Caesars quickly walked to the sofa in front of the window and sat down, then took out several high-level magic crystals from his space ring. These crystal-clear crystals gradually dimmed in his palm, and pure magic power flowed into his body through the faint magic patterns on his hands.

The next match against the Saint Laurent Empire would require extreme caution—they had to humiliate those hypocrites while also operating within the strict rules of the arena. Thinking of this, a dangerous curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Brother, you're amazing!" Emily hopped closer like a cheerful little bird, her amber eyes gleaming with admiration. "Just now, that great magician known as 'Flame Fury' was thrown out by you before he could even finish his spell!"

Kaesus looked at his sister's soft golden hair, shards of magic crystal falling from his fingers. "Remember, the essence of violent spellcasting lies in infusing magic power directly into the limbs." He showed the fading magic veins on the back of his hand. "To pressure the magic power into the magic veins, your body must be strong enough."

As the siblings conversed, cheers erupted from beyond the crystal walls of the lounge. Through the one-way magic glass, they could see traditional mages in other arenas casting flashy spells—rains of fire and vines covering the entire field—to the awe of the spectators in the stands.

"Brother, look!" Emily suddenly stood up and pointed at the entrance, "Those two tin cans are already warming up!" Two combat priests on the sidelines were making final preparations. Their shiny magic steel armor reflected a dazzling light under the lights, and the large cross emblem on their chests was polished to a shine.

Kaisas narrowed his eyes, his knuckles cracking dangerously. "This is a special anti-magic armor made by the church!"

"Emily, don't worry. I have a spell specifically for dealing with these tin cans. It's very easy to defeat or kill them. I don't want to defeat them directly. What I want to do is humiliate them and make them look bad in front of everyone!"

Kaisas hated the Church of Saint Laurent, and some of the things they did could be described as cruel and inhumane: killing innocent people to extract the "essence of blood" and using the corpses to feed the deformed monsters and ghouls.

More than ten minutes later, as the referee's voice sounded, Caesars stood up and crushed the last magic crystal. Caesars walked out of the lounge, magic power surging around him, and dark gray dark elements surrounded him.

Emily quickly sat on the sofa in front of the window. The little golden-eyed black snake coiled on the windowsill. The fat puppy stood up and placed its two front paws on the windowsill.

Caesars walked towards the arena step by step. He had already simulated the course of the battle in his mind, and now it was time for him to put it into practice.

Caesars walked steadily toward the center of the arena, the sand beneath his boots making a subtle scraping sound. He narrowed his eyes slightly, mentally reconciling his upcoming strategy—first, weaken the opponent with curses, then gradually toy with them with incantations. This narrow circular arena did limit the magician's maneuvering space, but for him, a master of instantaneous magic, he could use the boundaries of the arena to create a rebound effect.

As the referee slowly approached, leaning on his ruby-encrusted staff, Caesars suddenly raised his hand to intercept him. He took the magic megaphone with a fluid movement, his mithril ring flashing a cold light under the light. The entire arena suddenly fell silent, tens of thousands of eyes focused on the wizard in gray-black robes.

"I have two pets, a small golden-eyed black snake and a very greedy fat dog. I gave them very resounding names..."

Caesar's voice, enhanced by magic, resonated throughout the circular stands. Grand Duke Redstone, sipping mead in the VIP seats, suddenly choked, and his attendants hurriedly offered him a handkerchief. The audience in the ordinary stands whispered among themselves, some even placing bets on what shocking words this audacious mage would utter.

The old referee's graying eyebrows trembled violently, and the timekeeping crystal embedded in the top of his scepter glowed red. But Caesars deliberately dragged out his words until he saw the staffs of the two combat priests across from him begin to gather holy light. Then he suddenly raised his voice: "They are all called St. Paul XI!"

This announcement was like a magic bomb going off. A vendor selling honey bread in the north stand accidentally knocked over his basket. From the VIP seats came the crisp clatter of falling crystal glasses. The Minister of Finance of the Redstone Kingdom clapped his hands on the gilded armrests in laughter. Meanwhile, in the Saint Laurent delegation's box, the Holy Book in the hands of the Chief Bishop suddenly burst into golden flames.

"In the name of the Lord of Dawn!" The battle priest on the left ripped his gold-embroidered cuffs, his holy armor emitting a blinding light. His companion had already plunged the Sword of Judgment into the ground. Twelve silver pillars of light suddenly rose around the arena—a sign that the high-level sacred art, "Heavenly Punishment Barrier," had been activated.

"You bastards of Saint Laurent, Master Caesars will beat you up so hard that you'll kneel down and beg for mercy!"

Caesars gracefully tossed the megaphone back to the stunned referee, the hem of his battle robes arcing in a perfect arc as he turned. As he saluted the roaring audience, dark elements entwined around his body, condensing into a mysterious magic pattern before fading into his form.

"well said!"

A silk merchant excitedly crushed the nutshell in front of his seat, the Chamber of Commerce badge hanging around his neck jingling. "The 'faith tax' they levied last year took away 30% of my profits!"

Several spectators dressed as mercenaries nearby immediately responded loudly, and some even took out magic scrolls that recorded the priest's misdeeds.

The old carpenter from the south stand added in a hoarse voice, "Those bastards stole my grandson's baptismal certificate the night before the church was demolished and are now blackmailing him!" He slammed his calloused palms against his knees, making the purse at his waist jingle. This accusation triggered even louder shouts, and several children took the opportunity to toss magic balloons with the words "Yves Saint Laurent Get Out" written on them into the air, which exploded in clouds of crimson smoke.

Caesars stood in the center of the gradually forming magic circle, looking at the distorted face of the priest opposite him, a sneer curling his lips. He deliberately muttered to himself in a voice that everyone could hear: "Looks like today I have to teach these charlatans what true 'divine punishment' means!"

"It's so refreshing! These are all from my heart!"

A middle-aged man in a silk robe waved his hands and shouted loudly. The Saint Laurent Empire had often bullied other kingdoms in the past, and his caravans had been treated unfairly several times, causing his goods to be delayed many times, causing him considerable losses.

"It's a good thing our cathedral was demolished early, otherwise those priests would still be hawking indulgences on the streets. They wear priest robes, and the first thing they say to anyone is: You are guilty!"

Another audience member described it vividly, saying that he had probably also experienced the situation of being forced to buy atonement charms.

The reputation of the Saint Laurent Church was already tarnished, and the common people of the Redstone Kingdom had long since detested the church. The audience cheered loudly, wanting to see the priest kneel down and beg for mercy.

When the referee announced the start of the match, before the protective barrier was fully erected, Caesar's opponent, a red-eyed middle-aged priest, launched the first attack. Holding a shield and a longsword, he charged directly at Caesar.

Kaisas cast a buff spell on himself, calculating the time it would take for the opponent to reach him. Just as the battle priest's arm swung again, the sharp magic pattern sword thrust forward, and he used the flash spell to disappear from the spot.

Kaisas continued to cast buff spells on himself, Dark Erosion, Dark Torrent, Magic Armor, Magic Shield, Agility... It was too easy to kill this battle priest, but it violated the rules of the arena and would also make him lose the generous rewards of the challenge.

The battle priest quickly turned around, looking for Caesars. At this moment, a large-scale grease spell appeared silently at his feet.

"You bastards of Saint Laurent, don't be distracted, Master Caesars is here!"

The Battle Priest glared at Caesars. He knew that the Flash spell had a timer interval and could not be used continuously. The distance of over twenty meters was within his charge range.

Golden holy light streamed through the magic patterns on the priest's magic steel armor, and he immediately charged. His first step was steady, but as his iron boots took the second, his foot slipped, as if he were stepping on slippery mud. He lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground. The magic steel armor made intimate contact with the ground, sending sparks flying.

Another Grease spell fell, this time enveloping the reckless battle priests.

A sneer curled up at the corner of Kaisas's mouth, the dark gray magic lingering on his fingertips still not completely dissipated. He slowly adjusted his battle robes and watched the battle priest struggle in the black mire created by the grease spell. The priceless magic steel armor was now a burden, and the sacred magic patterns rubbed against the ground, sending out dazzling sparks.

"Five seconds!" He counted silently, tapping the ground with his boot heel, sending a wave of shadowy ripples through the air. As the priest roared and pushed himself back to his feet, a second spell landed with pinpoint accuracy: Gravity Field - Triple Overlay. The armor, barely half an inch off the ground, crashed back to earth, cracking the arena's custom-made obsidian tiles in a spiderweb-like pattern.

The audience erupted in a chorus of exclamations. Someone in the VIP box spilled some mead. Caesars, noticing the Inquisitor clutching the Codex of Rules, deliberately raised his voice, "Don't worry. I'm a stickler for rules and regulations. I wouldn't kill anyone in the arena!"

He could see the veins bulging on the back of the priest's neck; it seemed the other party was ready to fight to the death.

The priest suddenly flipped his wrist and plunged his longsword into the ground. Using this fulcrum, a dazzling holy light erupted from his body—his expendable sacred magic pattern had been activated. Caesars raised an eyebrow and finally took a half step back, the hem of his robe moving without a breeze.

Caesars licked his fangs, watching the freed priest sprint towards him like a golden meteor. Twenty meters vanished in the blink of an eye under the blessing of the Holy Light. He had calculated long ago: when the opponent's sword tip was half a foot from his throat, the cooldown of Flash would just end.

The battle priest's sword slashed fiercely into the air, and Caesars' figure vanished like a ghost, leaving only a wisp of dark energy slowly dissipating beneath the blade's edge. A deathly silence fell in the audience. Everyone subconsciously gripped the armrests of their seats, even their breathing stagnated. Some could even clearly hear their own heartbeats beating like drums in their chests. The intensity of this duel had exceeded everyone's expectations.

"Saint Laurent bastard, here I am!"

Caesars's playful voice echoed from nearby. He gracefully leaned against the protective barrier, his slender fingers gently brushing away the nonexistent dust from his robes. His dimly gleaming eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing his opponent like a venomous snake assessing its prey—the priest's rapidly rising and falling chest, the veins bulging from his grip on the sword, and his eyes, bloodshot with rage—no detail escaped his scrutiny.

This time, the battle priest didn't rush into a rash attack. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His sharp gaze scanned every inch of the ground before him. After confirming there were no hidden magical traps, he made an unexpected move—stab his sword into the ground and quickly formed a sacred seal with his hands. As he muttered a prayer, a golden aura emanated from his body, forming a flowing protective layer on the surface of his armor.

Seeing this, Caesars raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening. "Interesting!" he muttered to himself, suddenly raising his hand and drawing a strange trajectory.

Gray-green dark energy gathered at his fingertips, and two curses shot out like venomous snakes. The Fatigue Curse and the Weakness Curse were cast simultaneously. Almost instantly, a ball of dark green corrosive energy flew precisely towards the priest's breastplate—the spot where the magic patterns were most densely packed.

"Let's see, is the holy light more dazzling... or is the darkness more lasting?" Caesars took a half step back, his magic robe fluttering without wind.

He chose not the more destructive Death Coil, but a more refined tactic. The acidic energy of the Corrosion spell hissed across the armor's surface, dulling the once polished, gleaming magic pattern armor at a visible rate. Even the meticulously engraved defensive magic patterns were weakened by the corrosive energy.

Caesars planned to first destroy the battle priest's reliance: the armor that effectively defended against magic, and the shield that reflected spells. The sword that could pierce the magic shield was also to be destroyed. Without these things, the battle priest was a lamb to be slaughtered.