All-around teacher at the magic academy

Eric stood in the stands, his eyes fixed on Hansen, who was covered in a thick layer of frost on the playing field.

His hands gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His heart clenched, a sense of powerless frustration spreading through his chest.

"It's over, Hansen was infected from the very beginning," Eric thought to himself, his eyes filled with worry.

He looked at Warwick standing opposite Hansen, whose confident smile and composed demeanor made Eric uneasy. He hadn't expected Hansen's first opponent to be so formidable. Hansen had never encountered such advanced magic before, and the moment his opponent unleashed the first spell, Hansen was already in trouble, probably still trapped in his own illusions.

Renault and Hall had just arrived at the match venue when their eyes were immediately drawn to the frozen figure in the center of the field. They hadn't expected to arrive so conveniently; the match seemed to be about to end.

Duke Chloe sat in the VIP section, his gaze shifting back and forth between the frozen figure and Warwick. He smiled and said, "It seems it's coming to an end." His tone revealed a hint of satisfaction with the result, as if he quite appreciated Warwick's performance.

Raphael looked around in the crowd, trying to find a familiar figure, but his gaze swept through the crowd without finding Eric.

He was certain that Eric was there, watching the game quietly from somewhere.

Raphael imagined Eric's face when he saw his brother suffer a defeat in the first match, and a mocking smile crept across his face. He wondered if Eric would find it hard to accept, or if he would rush down to save the day.

However, he did not know that Eric was not far away, gripping the railing with trembling hands, anxious and worried.

Warwick coldly scrutinized the ice sculpture before him, letting out a soft sigh: "I was hoping to stretch my muscles a bit, but it's over so soon. I'm really disappointed."

His voice carried a hint of disdain, as if he didn't take his opponent seriously. He had expected his opponent to pose a challenge, but the outcome had been far more swift and one-sided.

Light elements began to gather in his hands, energy leaping in his palms, preparing to deliver the final, fatal blow and end this battle that he considered child's play.

"Hmm?" Warwick frowned, looking at the ice sculpture before him, sensing something was amiss. This subtle feeling tightened his resolve; had something he hadn't noticed happened?

Before he could even unleash his magic, the ice sculpture in front of him suddenly shattered, sending ice fragments flying everywhere.

Warwick quickly retreated, but even so, he was still hit by the shockwave of the explosion. His robes were torn by ice, and several shallow wounds were left on his skin.

He looked at the residual electricity in his hand, shook it off, and revealed a satisfied smile: "That's more like it." He muttered to himself, finally feeling a bit of the fun in the battle.

The moment the ice sculpture shattered, Hansen felt his body regain its freedom. He looked at his body and tried to move his stiff joints. Although there were still some negative effects, now was not the time to worry about them.

He focused his mind, controlling his magic to generate a weak electric current that traveled throughout his body, stimulating the frozen bodily functions.

"It seems this won't last long," Hansen sighed, but he had no time to hesitate. He moved swiftly, appearing in front of Warwick almost instantly.

He clenched his fist, electricity crackling and crackling across it, and swung it without hesitation toward Warwick's face.

Warwick's pupils dilated suddenly. He hadn't expected Hansen to recover so quickly and launch a counterattack after being frozen.

He quickly raised his arms, crossing them in front of him, trying to block Hansen's powerful punch. The force of the punch hitting his arm made Warwick's expression change. He endured the sharp pain in his arm and kicked Hansen hard, trying to use the opportunity to create distance.

The two separated instantly. Eric, watching from the stands, breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his younger brother successfully escape. He clenched his fists tightly, cheering Hansen on.

Meanwhile, Raphael and Duke Chloe looked rather grim; they clearly hadn't anticipated Hansen's ability to launch such a counterattack.

Renault, on the other hand, looked satisfied. He looked at Hansen on the field and smiled, seemingly pleased with Hansen's performance.

Hansen did not stop after a successful attack; he knew his time was limited and he had to seize every opportunity.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth; the pain from Warwick's kick hadn't completely subsided, but he couldn't care less about that now.

He raised his hands in front of him, and a special magic circle appeared in his palms. In an instant, a thunderbird made of lightning flew rapidly towards Warwick at his summons.

Warwick remained highly alert. Seeing Hansen's magic coming towards him, he quickly threw a condensed ball of light from his hand to meet the Thunderbird head-on.

The ball of light and the Thunderbird collided violently in mid-air, bursting forth with dazzling light and a deafening roar, shaking the entire arena with the power of the attack.

The moment the magic collided, a blinding light illuminated the entire arena like the sun, and the audience involuntarily shielded their eyes to avoid the intense light.

Warwick sensed danger coming from his side, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he took the full force of Hansen's attack, his body flying away like a kite with a broken string.

Hansen frowned, a sense of unease rising within him as he watched his opponent being sent flying by a single blow. As the smoke cleared, he finally saw the figure lying on the ground—not Warwick, but a human-shaped clay figure shattered on the floor. Hansen's heart sank; he realized he had fallen for his opponent's trap.

"Not good," Hansen thought to himself. He knew he had to get out of there quickly, but when he tried to move, he found that he couldn't get any footing. He looked down and saw that his legs were already stuck in the mud, and the stickiness and suction of the mud made it impossible for him to get out easily.

Warwick's voice came from behind Hansen, tinged with smug mockery: "Not bad, but I don't think you can keep this up for long. Just stay in this quagmire until you're exhausted. And let me warn you, the more you struggle, the deeper you'll sink."

Hansen's gaze was firm. He didn't turn to look at Warwick, but instead focused on examining the muddy ground beneath his feet.

He had already made up his mind. Without any hesitation, he began to cast his magic. Starting from himself, the mud began to solidify rapidly.

Hansen could no longer feel the cold beneath his feet; all his attention was focused on how to escape this predicament.

He gripped his legs tightly with both hands and pulled with all his might. His feet had turned purple from being frozen for so long, but Hansen's face showed no pain or other expression, only unwavering determination.

Warwick, seeing Hansen's actions, stopped smiling and his tone became unusually serious: "You really want to win that badly? If you continue, your legs will be ruined. You should go to the hospital right away."

"It's not too late to go after we've finished fighting," Hansen replied succinctly and forcefully, his eyes showing no sign of backing down.

“Since that’s the case, there’s nothing I can do.” After Warwick finished speaking, he quickly retreated to the edge of the arena. Mud figures began to emerge from the ground all around Hansen, as if they were pouring out of a bottomless pit, and there were many of them.

Warwick's strategy was clear: he wanted to exhaust Hansen's magic through these clay figures, causing Hansen to die under the dual pressure of physical and magical exhaustion.

Hansen took a deep breath, expanding his chest to its maximum extent before slowly releasing it. His gaze, sharp as a sword, swept over the ever-emerging mud figures around him.

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and began to precisely manipulate the lightning element. Within a radius of tens of meters around him, the air began to scorch, and the lightning element, like a raging beast, awakened at his command.

Thick, dark clouds suddenly gathered in the sky, with dangerous glints flashing within the oppressive cloud cover. Accompanied by deafening thunder, the atmosphere became extremely tense.

An initial bolt of lightning, like divine punishment, struck the ground from the clouds, hitting its first target precisely. The lightning didn't stop there; instead, like a lit fuse, it rapidly leaped to other nearby targets. Each leaping bolt carried the fury and destructive power of a primal hell, crushing the mud figures one by one.

In just a few seconds, all the mud figures on the ground were crushed, turning into piles of useless dirt. Hansen knelt on the ground, panting heavily, his legs trembling uncontrollably from exhaustion and previous frostbite.

He struggled to stand up, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, but each attempt was incredibly difficult.

Warwick looked at Hansen with a hint of respect in his eyes. He clapped his hands and said, "You're very good." This wasn't sarcasm, but a genuine opinion. However, the battle wasn't over yet, and his advantage remained obvious.

Hansen looked up at the mud figures that were gathering around him again. He gritted his teeth and, with astonishing willpower, struggled to his feet.

He kept attacking the approaching mud figures, but no matter how many he defeated, new mud figures would emerge from the ground again.

He felt increasingly powerless; his legs had long since lost all feeling, and only his unwavering will sustained him as he continued to fight.