Genius Warlock

The fire dragon, which had ascended into the sky, retraced its path through the hole it had created. It followed the command of the spellcaster and descended upon the ground.

The vicinity, previously illuminated by lightning accompanied by the cries of thunderbirds, had now transformed into a vivid red hue, possessing the power to scorch even lifeless entities. It obliterated everything except for the spellcaster and his companions.

Kwarwarwarwarwaralalalalalalalang———!!!!

A deafening roar akin to a wild beast's resounded, intertwining with the crackling of a raging wildfire. The boulders and remnants of the hotel that had been strewn about were engulfed in flames, leaving no trace behind. The land itself had shed its original color and characteristics, becoming an even more desolate sight than a barren wasteland.

However, this was not the sole outcome of the event.

Even the enigmatic fog barrier, seemingly impervious to collapse, began to warp amidst the explosion, flames, and searing heat brought forth by the fire dragon. Ultimately, it succumbed and crumbled.

Despite the presence of spatial magic, capable of defying most physical constraints, an overwhelming force that defied all logic had disrupted this very law.

Within these flames that defied rationality, survival appeared inconceivable. Nevertheless, one individual had defied the odds.

‘Monster…,' Kevin thought, his gaze fixed upon Theodore. Despite being charred like coal, Theodore endured, sustained by an unending wellspring of mana and an uncanny resilience that transcended reality.

The protective enchantment known as Dragon Skin had shattered irreparably, leaving Theodore bereft of its shield. Regardless, Theodore clung to his lifeline, recuperating from the damage in real-time through his extraordinary constitution, immense mana, and curative energies.

The situation was dire.

The entirety of his available mana had been depleted in this devastating assault.

Instinctively, Kevin recognized the impending defeat that loomed over him.

If he were to survive this encounter, Theodore would inevitably mend his injuries with his cockroach-like regenerative prowess. Meanwhile, Kevin, having expended his mana reserves, would be defenseless and doomed.

The culmination had arrived, with victory and defeat hanging in the balance.

Embracing this realization, Kevin harnessed his flagging mana, striving to regain command over the flames. He interlocked his arms and pulled his elbows taut with every ounce of strength he possessed.

The flames, hitherto rampantly spreading, arrested their indiscriminate advance, converging at the epicenter to channel their might.

Their intent: to reduce Theodore Brant, the Grand Master of Life School and venerable figure of the Magic Tower, to ashes.

Whoosh!

A torrent of excessive magical energy, mastery pushed to its brink, the toll of prolonged combat—all these factors conspired, triggering alarms akin to an overburdened engine within Kevin's physique.

Temple and forehead veins swelled, as his eyes and nose expelled an abnormal rush of searing blood.

Physical limits breached.

Yet, amidst this struggle, a frigid voice laden with scorn pierced the air—mocking Kevin's endeavor.

"Merlin… I'm really envious!"

With a swish—Theodore elevated his hand amidst the lingering flames, their residual power capable of sundering barriers.

Kevin's flames found themselves sundered, swiftly nullified.

"…Really a monster, huh?" Kevin muttered, fixated on Theodore's hand—an appendage grown colossal, reminiscent of a giant's.

More astounding still was that this wasn't mere enlargement; it appeared comprised of myriad hands, possibly numbering in the hundreds or thousands.

The bone spear unveiled earlier seemed to harbor an affinity for black magic, rather than the life magic Kevin was acquainted with.

Granted, life magic engaged with dark arts, but this was an entirely distinct league.

More astonishing yet was the sheer number of entities Theodore had seemingly integrated into his aged frame. The massive arm's components alone numbered seemingly hundreds.

"Huh—!"

Before Kevin could even marshal his thoughts, Theodore swung his gargantuan arm, endeavoring to obliterate Kevin.

Much like swatting a mosquito.

Kevin's attempt to evade was thwarted by the earlier strain on his body, leaving him immobile and powerless, unable even to coordinate the movement of his legs. At the brink of collapse, a sudden intervention emerged.

Ice materialized beneath Kevin's feet, whisking him away from imminent danger.

Kwaaaang—!!

As the colossal hand slammed the earth, seismic tremors propagated, fracturing the ground akin to a brittle biscuit.

Following the providential ice's lead, Kevin locked eyes with Tilda, a practitioner of ice magic.

"How pathetic! You're saving the inferior species that turned your own son into a cripple!!"

"Do you think Tilda is such a fool that she can't tell right from wrong!!"

Just as Theodore readied to launch another assault with his gargantuan arm, Phillip descended from above and raised his voice.

He plunged a colossal sword into Theodore's hand, pinning it.

"No more attacks like this一"

—Bang!!

Before Theodore's words could find conclusion, a siege mana cannon discharged, squarely striking Theodore's visage.

An explosive impact rocked Theodore's head.

Phillip, retrieving an axe from his arsenal, magnified its dimensions and suffused it with mana, instantly sundering Theodore's massive arm.

"Terence!"

Philip's cry was swiftly heeded by Terence, who had accompanied Kevin to reinforce Phillip. Infusing his form with the entirety of his mana, Terence advanced toward Theodore, his fist poised.

Crash!

Drawing on his credentials as a former martial arts boxing champion, Terence's punch transcended the mundane, obliterating flesh and fracturing bone.

Terence unleashed a barrage of blows, an onslaught as swift as it was potent, nearly creating the illusion of a multitude of fists.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A testament to honed aptitude and rigorous training.

Yet, Theodore was his adversary.

Clash! Boom!

Even under duress, Theodore regenerated his severed limb, parrying Terence's punches with his own fists, each encased in bone blades.

Miraculously, he adapted to a boxing stance despite lacking formal training, skillfully blocking and retaliating, shattering Terence's rhythm.

A stratagem manifesting precision and overpowering might. Terence's defenses crumbled, confronting a fleeting brush with mortality.

Bone blades sprouted from Theodore's fists.

Slash!

As the bone-bladed fist hurtled for Terence's countenance, Phillip surged forth, deflecting the strike with his saber.

"Snap out of it!"

With an arm missing, bleeding profusely, and weary from prolonged battle, Phillip bellowed with the indomitable spirit emblematic of the Roar lineage.

Rallying to Phillip's call, Terence, haunted by the specter of his own demise, reclaimed his valor, his fist homing in on Theodore's critical juncture.

Thud!

Theodore was propelled backward, a resonance akin to a fractured sternum resounding.

Unyielding, Phillip maintained his vigilance, cleaving his saber toward Theodore's neck.

Though the neck proved tenacious, resilience couldn't defy the inevitability of a lethal wound. Unfazed, Theodore commenced his regenerative response, rendering the injury to mere memory.

"Press on!"

"Yes!"

Philip and Terence synchronized their efforts, combining sword and fist to repel the relentless advance of Theodore.

Their peak physical prowess, coupled with their mana-infused capabilities, transformed their close-quarters assault into a tempest. It roared with such swiftness and ferocity that it threatened not only Theodore but also those watching from the sidelines.

Directly confronting the onslaught, Theodore didn't merely endure but gradually initiated his own counter.

Dual bone spears occupied his grasp—implements that resounded in a cacophony.

Clang! Clank! Boom! Bang! Ka-boom! Crash! Clash!

The resonant clamor signified Terence's fists and Philip's weapons colliding with Theodore's bone spears, rippling shockwaves through the arena.

As the clash persisted, the tide inexorably shifted in Theodore's favor.

His bone spears wielded with dexterity, Theodore deftly swiped at Philip and Terence, exerting force that propelled them backward.

Thump!

Predicting their maneuvers, Theodore accurately struck the shoulders of both Philip and Kevin.

Though not deeply wounding, the blows underscored the skills disparity between the combatants.

In an exchanged glance, Philip and Terence instinctively distanced themselves, aware of the peril of direct engagement with Theodore.

Yet, Theodore vanished for a fleeting instant, swiftly converging on both Philip and Terence, nullifying their strategic maneuvering.

The method was unassuming: sheer speed.

The enigma lay in how he attained an unattainable velocity, a puzzle soon unraveled.

Theodore's lower limbs had undergone a metamorphosis into a hybrid blend of equine and carnivorous attributes.

This hybrid form conferred a swiftness impossible for human legs, allowing Theodore to navigate Tilda's icy terrain without slip.

Rendered inhuman, Theodore overwhelmed Philip and Terence, his gaze then pivoting to Kevin and Tilda.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

Bolting forth at inconceivable speed, Theodore set the ground quaking, his movement exceeding naked-eye perception.

Against the strain, Kevin forced his battered frame upright and conjured a stone spear in defense, but Theodore's bone spear obliterated it effortlessly.

In the precipice of that fleeting moment, with the chasm between the tip of Theodore's bone spear and Kevin's eye paper-thin, Theodore abruptly stilled.

One hand pressed to his ear.

From the recesses of his auditory channel, an elusive, incomprehensible static reverberated.

"What did you say…? Fine… Understood."

Theodore suspended his assault, conversing with the cryptic static that permeated his ear, then withdrew.

"You're lucky, test subject 162."

Theodore cast a gaze upon the drained, prostrate Kevin. Without further contemplation, he birthed a portal and transitioned through it with an air of nonchalance.

In the aftermath of Theodore's departure, Kevin, who had narrowly eluded the clutches of demise, slumped, his tension finally uncoiling.

Initially, relief surged within him—survival attained. Yet, a subsequent wave of emotions surged: fury, humiliation, despondency.

A lifetime of training converged upon this aspiration, this quest for revenge. Notable strides in elemental magic, an accomplishment to be revered, yet here he stood.

If Theodore proved an insurmountable challenge, what hope lay in facing Merlin?

In this realization, Kevin perceived the immense chasm still separating him from his ambition.

"Why did he run away?"

Tilda, typically as aloof as frost, mused aloud.

Perplexed, Kevin echoed her bewilderment. The notion of relinquishing a triumph already secured appeared absurd. Yet, it refrained from deserving mockery as a reckless folly.

"What happened?"

Amid Kevin's contemplations, a familiar voice resonated from a distance.

It was none other than Oliver, accompanied by Yareli and over twenty wizards. They navigated the remnants of the shattered fog barrier.

"What happened to you?"Kevin inquired, eyeing Oliver, who had swapped his tonfa for a quarterstaff.

Oliver responded, "Well… a bit of this and that."

***

"I'm going crazy. Really…"

Recumbent upon a blanket, Kevin uttered his thoughts.

Reasons abounded: the treachery of the School of Life Magic against the Magic Tower, his ensnarement within the lingering fog, and the brush with demise at Theodore's hands.

Any one of these would suffice to incite his descent into madness. Yet, Oliver's arrival furnished an even more perplexing revelation.

Oliver had been exposed.

Unmasked by both the School of Life Magic and Yareli.

Even more astonishing, Oliver, implicated as the culprit, embraced the revelation. He unearthed concealed supplies—blankets, chairs, makeshift bedding, medicine, and even canned soup—dispensing assistance to everyone, including Kevin.

Since exposure was inevitable, Oliver reasoned, he might as well lend aid where he could.

What compounded the absurdity was the muted acquiescence of all, apparently too drained to contest Oliver's benevolence.

"I'm really going crazy…"

Kevin, too astounded for words, repeated his sentiment. He then employed his magic to heat the canned soup within his mug, proceeding to imbibe it.

The mug was a reasonably expensive one, infused with magical conductivity—an offering from Oliver as well.

"I'm sorry, Professor… I had no choice but to be discovered when Mr. Carl suddenly revealed my identity."

Approaching Kevin's side, Oliver, having distributed canned soup, medicine, and potions, offered his apology anew.

Initially, he had denied the accusations, Oliver explained, but succumbed to exposure upon mention of the Mattel incident.

The Mattel incident—Kevin was intimately acquainted with the details.

His mentor, Merlin, had recounted them personally.

Given this revelation, Kevin was too bewildered and frustrated to voice his resentment.

After a moment's contemplation, Kevin voiced his thoughts.

"First of all–"

"Hey… Zenon? Dave?"

Interrupting Kevin, Philip, seated opposite, called out to Oliver.

Addressing him by his name as a personal assistant to a Magic Tower professor, as well as by his Landa alias as a "solver."

Oliver turned, responding, "Yes, General Philip."

A dialogue commenced, unfolding between the esteemed honorary Grand Master of the Magic Tower and the enigmatic warlock. All eyes converged on them.

Observers scrutinized their interaction—a convergence of the warlock within the guise of a Magic Tower employee.

Philip interjected, "Do you have any alcohol or cigarettes? I need both."

"Yes, I have both. Just a moment."

Devoid of hesitation, Oliver responded naturally, accommodating the peculiar entreaty. He procured two containers from the array Big Mouth had presented.

One contained an array of cigarettes found in Landa, encompassing cigars and various varieties. The other held an assortment of magical and conventional spirits.

Clang.

The harmonious resonance of clinking bottles echoed.

"There are various types of cigarettes, including cigars, and there are both ordinary liquor and magic wine. I've brought the major brands, do you have any specific preferences?"

Oliver delivered his words with an air of normalcy.

Witnessing this, Philip, who had relinquished an arm, chuckled and remarked, "Kevin, you've really chosen a great employee."