Chapter 94: The Ever Stranger Battle

Yet no one knew that Dorothy, who now seemed possessed by a god of war, was suffering in silence.

“Damn, why won’t you die already? I can’t hold out much longer—I’m running out of mana, for fuck’s sake.”

Feeling her mana pool draining rapidly and seeing her opponent’s mana bar still stubbornly full, the house witch had no words for her suffering.

This full-power god-of-war mode naturally came at a cost—her insane output was paid for by a multiplied drain of mana.

Remember, “Witch’s Monkey Wine Transformation Spell” was an 8th-tier high-level spell, with staggering mana consumption; even as its creator, Dorothy, who understood it perfectly and could minimize its drain to the utmost, still expended nearly 5,000 mana to activate it—not to mention the ongoing maintenance cost of roughly 200 mana per second.

Dorothy’s total mana was only 13,000 mana; her previous matches had all been instant KOs, so she hadn’t drained much—except for that one time when she used her ultimate, Long Wang Breakthrough Fist, to shatter Mia’s Golden Turtle Shell. That punch was devastating, yes, but it burned nearly 2,000 mana, not to mention all the mana she’d spent fleeing from Madeline using Suo Di Cheng Cun.

In short, she now had only about 4,000 mana left—enough to sustain the god-of-war form for another 20 seconds at most. If she didn’t kill her opponent within those 20 seconds, she’d just have to lie down and wait to die.

But...

“Fuck, I always heard those perverts say succubi were endlessly fun—no matter how extreme the play, they never broke. I never believed it. Now I see it’s true—this health bar is absurdly thick.”

Dorothy lifted her left head and glanced at the real-time health bars displayed above the arena.

Dorothy: 26k/13k (Boss transformation restoring full HP and doubling the health bar? That’s perfectly reasonable, right?)

Madeline: 2333/13k

Both had A-rank physique stats, so their health bars were nearly equal—Dorothy’s earlier barrage had successfully reduced her opponent to low health.

But just as Dorothy, energized, prepared to finish her off, she suddenly realized her opponent had activated some bizarre talent—her healing rate skyrocketed, nearly matching the damage Dorothy was dealing.

What the hell kind of health-locking cheat is this?

In that moment, Dorothy finally understood just how terrifying a succubus truly was—this resilient, durable physique was terrifying in every sense, whether on the bed or the battlefield.

But it didn’t matter now—there was no turning back. She had to keep pounding. Let’s see whose bar broke first: her health or her mana.

Her mana bar now read 3,000 mana; the god-of-war form had 15 seconds left.

“Ola ola ola...”

“Wu tuo wu tuo wu tuo...”

Dorothy gritted her teeth and unleashed another furious barrage.

She dared not slack for even a second—she’d only just seized her opponent’s opening, dragging this technique-focused fighter into a pure stat-clash scenario. If she let up, if the opponent escaped this endless combo and regrouped, she’d lose for sure today.

Against a technique-based enemy, you must never give them a chance to counter.

“Die, you bastard...”

...The little witch poured every last ounce of strength into her strikes...

Mana: 2,000. God-of-war form: 10 seconds remaining.

On the other side, the succubus witch had no choice but to endure the punishment—her current mana left virtually no room for maneuvering.

As the child of two peak witch-warriors, Madeline was born with over 10,000 mana; by the time she formally began martial training and entered mana-dueling arenas, her mana had already reached 40,000 to 50,000—her entire combat system was built from the ground up on that baseline.

As for combat styles below 40,000 mana...

Hmm... there simply weren’t any. She’d never imagined she’d ever be reduced to this little mana in a duel. Besides, any witch with this little mana was already classified as a noob—noobs got one-shot, right?

Madeline never dreamed such a creature existed—someone with pitiful mana yet terrifying stats and power. Her heart was literally shattered.

If she’d had even 40,000 mana in this duel, she’d have dozens of ways to escape this predicament.

“When I get back, I’ll fix this flaw—I’ll build my entire combat system starting from 1,000 mana.”

The succubus witch swore inwardly.

But future plans couldn’t ease her current helplessness—she remained pinned like meat on a cutting board, pounded without mercy.

That was exactly what her opponent wanted—she’d successfully dragged the high-tier witch down to her own level, and now was ruthlessly exploiting her experience.

How could someone be this shameless? No wonder her sweet little sister had gone bad in just a few hours and nearly stayed out all night.

The succubus witch seethed.

Still, Madeline hadn’t given up hope—her experience told her this burst form came with massive mana drain; her opponent couldn’t sustain this onslaught for long. Now it was a battle of endurance—who would outlast whom.

Besides, her martial arts weren’t trained in vain. Even in this dire situation, within these few seconds, she’d already devised a basic counter.

As a master who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts, her skill was regarded as divine even by other races. For her, channeling power through her entire body was effortless.

The ability described in martial arts novels—striking from any part of the body with fist force—Madeline could do it too. And as a succubus witch, she possessed absolute control over every inch of her flesh.

So while she appeared to be taking pure punishment, in truth, her internal mana flowed into fist force, erupting from the very points struck, colliding head-on with her opponent’s iron fists.

Of course, this body-generated fist force was weaker than a true punch—it could only greatly reduce damage, not eliminate it entirely.

Moreover, this technique required preparation: she had to predict the exact landing point of her opponent’s blows. But under such relentless, high-frequency attacks, achieving that was incredibly difficult.

Fortunately, Madeline’s other talent was now active—her sister’s source of torment: the Succubus Core Talent, Source of Desire (SSR).

Though, whether by luck or misfortune, her talent wasn’t as strong as her sister’s—she hadn’t inherited the full Source of Desire (SSR), only a weakened version: Desire Perception (SR).

She could sense others’ desires toward her, but only vaguely—just enough to know: she’s interested in me, she’s lustful, she’s staring at my legs, oh now she’s looking at my chest. She couldn’t decode desires with the precision her sister could.

But it was enough. After all, strictly speaking, hostility and malice were desires too, weren’t they?

This talent, originally meant for seduction, had been repurposed by Madeline the martial artist into a threat-sensing ability—an instinctive combat intuition that let her sense incoming hostility and roughly predict the trajectory of her opponent’s next strike.

Thus, she managed the miracle of appearing to be brutally beaten, while actually trading blows.

But since this technique was newly developed, it was still crude—she could intercept only about half of the strikes, leaving the other half to land.

Still, it was enough—her succubus survival abilities had already begun activating.

Talent: Pain Reversal (SR) activated.

When activated, a succubus could convert pain into equal amounts of pleasure.

Talent: Succubus Body (SR) activated.

Succubi gained strength from pleasure—the more pleasure they felt, the faster their stamina recovered and their self-healing improved.

This combo was precisely why succubi were so hard to break.

But using this combo on the battlefield looked... strange.

Like now...

“Fuck, why are you making those suggestive noises while getting pounded? And why are you blushing? How the hell did a pervert like you become Head of Discipline? And Mia the sadistic dragoness is the Purification Squad Captain—this witch academy’s discipline must be a joke.”

Watching her opponent—being relentlessly pounded, yet her body growing more alluring, her face redder, her full lips occasionally releasing soft moans that stirred the imagination—Dorothy’s mental state began to crack.

Her mana now stood at 1,000; the god-of-war form had 5 seconds left.

“You damn masochist, just die already!”

“Mmm... ah...”

Ding...

Match over.

Finally, amid a roar and a moan, this increasingly bizarre match came to an end.

As the dust settled, the crowd erupted in cheers—seeing the unconscious succubus, and the young lady shrinking back to normal size amid the haze.

But it meant nothing to Dorothy—her mana depleted, she could no longer stand. Her vision went black, and she collapsed—yet strangely, she didn’t hit the ground. Instead, she collided with something soft.

Her last memory: a few drifting strands of pure white feathers.

...The little witch slept on...