Chapter 88: Discussion and Imagery

Thick fog stretched out monstrous arms with bared fangs.

Inside the conical temple built of massive stones, a glowing orb of Bright Art rotated above the central chamber, casting a soft blue-white light that turned the faces of the five robed figures bone-white.

On the altar beside it lay a clay bowl and a segment of a serpent-person’s leg bone.

The clay bowl held clear water, its center sedimented with blood and rotting flesh, now boiling and emitting magical luminescence.

The serpent-person’s leg bone also glowed, but slowly grew flesh and muscle.

“Someone triggered the array—[Erosion Rain] and [Fear Mist Concealment].”

A man with short golden hair spoke.

A black vertical line marked his face; he wore a faint smile and occasionally glanced at the woman beside him with a ponytail.

“Is it Bert?”

The tall woman with the ponytail spoke.

Her tone revealed clear tension and concern when mentioning Bert.

“No, the activation sequence differs slightly from what we agreed upon—the second array’s magical supply was clearly insufficient; it only succeeded after supplemental input triggered the dual-array linkage.”

Another man gave her the answer.

This man adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and analyzed calmly.

“So it’s Cecile, then?”

“Most likely her. Though she didn’t directly participate in our ritual, observing us and listening to our conversations would have let her learn the activation process.”

“Really? Is that girl really that smart?”

Another bald man rebutted the glasses-wearer.

“If she can’t trigger the process even from such close observation, what right does she have to join our Dragon Fun Society?”

The glasses-wearer frowned.

“Wanna bet?”

“What do you have that I’d want, Baldy?”

“Don’t call me Baldy! One [Corrupted Heart Stone]—I want your [Soul Dust]. Dare you?”

“You actually found this thing? Interesting. Fine, let’s do it.”

The fifth person was a half-elf woman.

Her pointed ears were much shorter than those of true elves; her appearance lacked the flawless, divine grace of elves, yet she still qualified as breathtakingly beautiful.

In Bahadur Magic Academy, where human supremacy was dogma, a half-elf infiltrating the Dragon Fun Society seemed unimaginable to outsiders.

Fff—

A flash of magic—[Spatial Shift] rippled into existence at one side of the room.

All five turned to look.

The next instant.

The mage Cecile landed, then collapsed weakly onto the floor, her expression filled with disbelief.

“Cecile, who triggered the ritual?”

The bald robed man asked first.

The tall woman with the ponytail asked: “Where’s Bert? Where is Bert?”

Clearly, the name “Bert” struck Cecile first.

She slowly lifted her head, still shaken, and spoke with difficulty:

“B-Bert is dead.”

The moment she spoke.

The room fell utterly silent—not a pin could drop.

The ponytail woman raised her hand and cast a spell.

Magic trailed through the air, speeding into Cecile’s arm.

“Ahh—aaaaah nooooo!!”

The next instant, Cecile screamed in agony.

“[Heart-Tearing]? The magical resonance and pain simulation are pristine. Impressive.”

The man with the vertical mark on his face praised.

[Heart-Tearing].

A mental spell of the Illusion school—it does not directly affect the body, but penetrates the target’s soul and mind, inflicting unprecedented psychic torment.

This spell is cruel and complex.

Its casting process alone has three steps.

Emotional resonance, memory distortion, physical pain simulation.

All three are indispensable.

That the ponytail woman completed casting in an instant proves her to be an exceptional mage.

The bald man feared Cecile might die or go mad, invalidating the bet.

He quickly cast a spell to dispel it.

Cecile trembled violently, curled on the floor.

Her screams faded slowly; she gasped for breath, a puddle of urine odor forming beneath her.

“Say another word, and I’ll kill you right now!”

The ponytail woman’s face was as dark as ink.

Cecile lowered her head, her bangs casting shadows over her eyes.

Her expression was unreadable.

She said nothing more.

One hand pressed against her head, the other raised her staff.

She channeled magic; the staff, held aloft, projected a magical image, then she slumped, drained.

The image clearly showed them fighting Luo Deli.

“[Memory Recall]? Using it on yourself will severely weaken your spellcasting for the next few days.”

The man with the vertical mark commented again.

The others stared at the magical image.

At first casually, then frowning, finally their faces twisted in shock as they saw Bert reduced to nothing.

“Bert… my Bert…”

The ponytail woman stepped back, staring at the image in disbelief.

“What spell was that?”

“I felt an ancient presence.”

“Hand over the [Corrupted Heart Stone].”

“...You got lucky.”

Cecile scanned the room.

She looked at the bald mage who had dispelled her spell.

“I advise you all to leave now. That man is far more terrifying than the image showed.”

The bald mage was reluctantly pulling the [Corrupted Heart Stone] from his spell satchel.

Hearing this, he sneered.

“Let him remove [Erosion Rain] first. A half-elf mage and a spirit warrior? Hah.”

The moment he spoke.

A sharp *ping* echoed from the altar.

Everyone turned.

The clay bowl, the material for [Erosion Rain], split in two; foul-smelling liquid dripped onto the floor.

“...Interesting.”

The glasses-wearer muttered.

He drew his staff and began constructing [Spatial Shift].

“You’re going?” asked the bald mage.

“No, I’m fleeing. From the image, my chance of victory against him is under thirty percent—and that sword piercing the sky? Even you and I together couldn’t stop it.”

“...Coward.”

Saying this, he too drew his staff and began constructing [Spatial Shift].

“What? You’re going too?”

“No, I’m fleeing as well.”

The man with the vertical mark frowned and said:

“What about Lu En? He’s a rare talent for Dragon Fun Society. I hate to admit it, but his potential is the strongest I’ve ever seen.”

“Even the strongest potential isn’t mine. Building him a temple to excavate dragon souls was already more than enough. Besides, our strongest member, Bert, got one-shot. What’s the point of me going? To die? Lu En didn’t pay enough!”

The man with the vertical mark sighed.

He tried to persuade them further, but in a flash, both vanished.

He turned to the ponytail mage and the silent half-elf—mainly to the ponytail mage.

"What about you? Leave or stay?"

A moment of silence.

The half-elf spoke first:

"I want to capture that female halfling."

"You want to use her for biological weaving? Halflings are everywhere. That spiritual warrior is far too strong—none of us here can withstand that sword strike. It’s not worth it."

He glanced at the ponytail mage.

The first rule for surviving at Bahadur Magic Academy: there is always someone stronger.

They had seen countless geniuses; stronger individuals always appeared. Direct confrontation was never their first choice.

"Halfling mages of her strength are rare. Her magical pathways and brain anatomy could aid my 'racial research.' I want to try."

She bit her lip lightly, eyes lowered, looking pitiful.

Though the words she spoke were brutal.

(End of Chapter)