Chapter 437: Missile Storm

After Dalama issued the challenge, Dalama looked around the hall.

The interior of the tower has a protective formation; with their own power and Reslin's, they couldn't cause much damage, but it might alarm the teacher and leave a bad impression, so he said, "Let's go to the magic training room."

"No need, right here; it will end quickly anyway," Reslin said calmly. "If you can't even control the destructive power of your own spells, that would be too disappointing to me."

His voice showed no fluctuation, yet his words made everyone present feel an endless arrogance, as if it were completely natural.

Madalara's expression froze, then she felt a bit incredulous—she couldn't believe she had been looked down upon!

Even back in the Elven realm, no clan member ever dared to look down on her; she hadn't expected an unknown human to speak so arrogantly.

Dalama sneered, "Then I shall see what your skill is, sir."

Reslin walked to the center of the hall and stopped ten steps away from Dalama.

The atmosphere grew tense; the other four students retreated to the edge of the hall, exchanged glances, and, while they knew Dalama's strength well, they knew nothing of Reslin, so they doubted Reslin could defeat this high‑elf prodigy.

Perarice smiled sweetly, "I'll be the judge."

In Fu Kong Cheng, Wizards often duel, both for friendly sparring and personal grudges; over the years a set of duel procedures has long been established.

Both Reslin and Dalama acknowledged her.

Perarice stepped forward two paces, confirmed the two were ready, raised her hand and performed a simple trick: a ball of red light flew from her fingertips, hovered at the midpoint between them, formed rune‑shaped numbers, and began a five‑second countdown.

The red light pulsed, and the numbers exploded the instant they jumped from one to zero.

Bang!

That light sound signaled the duel's start.

Dalama had already locked onto Reslin and released the first spell almost the moment the red light burst.

Dalama is proficient in Shadow Magic, currently a third‑circle mage, mastering over twenty spells; although only first and second circles, he has devoted much time and effort, fully exploiting his casting talent, refining several spells to a very high level and forging his own combat style.

With mana surging, the spell was cast instantly.

But it was not the shield most commonly used by casters in combat.

"Too risky!"

Perarice and the others thought that a caster's body is fragile; under normal circumstances the first spell cast is always a shield to ensure safety.

Attacking without a shield can seize the initiative, but it's overly aggressive.

A caster without a shield is essentially naked, a lesson countless Wizards have learned with their lives.

In the next instant, everyone saw a sphere of black mist about three meters in diameter materialize out of nowhere, centered on Reslin, enveloping him.

Second-circle Black Mist!

From an onlooker's view, the mist was not dense, allowing the target's silhouette to be seen, but for the victim the whole world went dark, the effect identical to a blinding spell, and the mist moved with the target, making it hard to escape.

Novice casters still cannot master displacement spells, so they lack effective means to counter the negative effects of such area spells.

Usually they can only brace a shield and endure until the Black Mist ends, becoming a target for its duration.

In the past, Dalama relied on the instant‑cast Black Mist, and among casters of the same tier he rarely met opponents, easily winning.

He observed that Reslin, within the mist, remained motionless, merely raising a simple rainbow‑like vector shield.

This response was nothing unusual, just like other opponents.

Dalama was not careless; he first raised a shadow shield for himself.

At the same time, he began a silent, short‑step run, widening the distance to avoid Reslin noticing his movement, while preparing his third spell.

A deep‑green strong acid arrow formed in his hand.

Reslin remained stationary, his gaze unfocused, as if truly blinded by the Black Mist, seeing nothing.

Half a breath later, Dalama's spell was complete.

A slight smile tugged at his mouth; the strong acid arrow had reached the second circle, his most powerful spell. Even the best‑protective vector shield would be corroded once hit, breaking within seconds, and with one or two more spells his victory would be assured.

"Such a big mouth, turns out he's just a mediocre, arrogant fool. I wonder what the teacher saw in him?"

Dalama thought that as he hurled the strong acid arrow.

However, at the instant of completion, a subtle disturbance interrupted the spell, the deep‑green acid dissipated, then back‑fired into his mind, shaking his mana and violently jolting his soul.

Dalama staggered, his face turning pale.

"Spell countered."

Spirorhok exclaimed in surprise.

Dalama, his head splitting, also realized; he knew the power and difficulty of spell countering—Reslin, within the black mist, not only pinpointed him but seized the chance to strike back.

That single move alone was enough to showcase Reslin's superb casting skill.

But what followed exceeded everyone's imagination: Reslin, still within the black mist, raised his hand, and light flickered between his fingers.

Four spindle‑shaped Arcane missiles erupted.

The violet missiles, about as long as a finger, tapered at both ends and thick in the middle, flew out of the black mist at extreme speed, trailing long, thread‑like paths, shooting toward Dalama from different directions.

As soon as the first four missiles launched, a second batch followed immediately.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh…

The missiles emitted a sharp, screeching whine.

Reslin pointed at Dalama, light blossomed round after round, each round producing four Arcane missiles; in just two breaths he completed five castings, each instant.

A total of twenty Arcane missiles flew at high speed through the air.

And the casting continued.

When the third wave of missiles was generated, the first four missiles had just reached Dalama; the high‑elf, weakened by spell backlash, was unable to counter or dodge, watching helplessly as the missiles struck his shield.

The missiles hit the shield, producing a series of bang‑bang clamor.

The translucent shield quivered, its surface rippling like water, and before it settled, another four missiles arrived, continuing the bombardment.

The fierce explosions rang in succession, driving Dalama backward, leaving him with no strength to retaliate.

"This…"

Polaluisi and the others stared in amazement.

Arcane missiles are a common low‑circle spell; at the first circle they can create three missiles, and the casting is quick, but the power is not outstanding. The three missiles are hard to control, and if the opponent has any defense, they are difficult to threaten.

Reslin's Arcane missiles numbered four, indicating at least a second circle.

What shocked everyone was his casting speed: not only could he fire instantly, but he cast continuously without any pause or gap, each missile following its own trajectory, missiles filling the sky, almost engulfing Dalama!

The fluctuations of the Shadow Shield grew increasingly intense.

Dalama finally recovered from the backlash, immediately applied an Obscuring Technique to herself, shrouding herself in a vague phantom, attempting to evade the missile barrage.

Bang bang bang…

To his surprise, the missiles penetrated the phantom and still hit him, none missing.

"The Obscuring Technique had no effect."

Dalama stared in horror at Reslin still shrouded in black mist, finally realizing that Reslin must possess some extremely powerful secret‑eye type spell.

But he realized it too late.

His Shadow Shield's defense was extremely strong, far surpassing casters of the same tier, yet it had limits; after withstanding nearly thirty missile strikes, it could no longer hold and collapsed like a bubble.

The next missile followed immediately, striking Dalama.

A layer of Elemental Armor manifested on his body, but the armor primarily guarded against energy damage; against missile‑type force‑field attacks it was ineffective, and after two 'bang' sounds the armor was pierced.

Dalama lost all protection; a missile pierced his abdomen, blood gushed out, and he cried out in pain before collapsing.

Reslin had already stopped casting before this.

That happened to be the last Arcane missile.

Dalama on the ground wore a face of pain, yet clenched his teeth silently, staring intently at Reslin after the black mist cleared, his face full of resentment.

"Dalama lost!"

The other students watching the battle found the result hard to accept; Dalama's defeat was understandable, but they could not believe Reslin won with just a single Arcane missile.

Zhenna felt sympathy, raised her hand to cast "Lesser Water Therapy" to heal Dalama.

"Wait, the battle isn't over."

The voice stopping Zhenna was the half‑or c Wizard Jialu, whose face showed confusion. Polaluisi also frowned, while only Zhenna and the inexperienced Spairuohok failed to react.

At that moment Dalama on the ground vanished like an illusion.

"Decoy Illusion!"

Zhenna was startled; she hadn't noticed when Dalama cast the spell, looked around in a circle, and still couldn't locate the real body.

She immediately looked at Reslin.

He remained expressionless, showing no surprise, clearly having known Dalama's trick all along.

At that moment a surge of energy fluctuation suddenly appeared.

All the Wizards present, possessing keen perception, instantly sensed the fluctuation and were astonished to see Dalama emerge from the shadow behind Reslin, the two standing within arm's reach.

Dalama had no external shield, yet the spell was already completed.

His right palm turned as black as ink, igniting black flames; Polaluisi and Spairuohok instantly recognized it as a second‑circle Black Flame Hand, possessing terrifying destructive power, capable of shattering shields below the third circle in a single blow, the black flame burning the enemy while also assaulting the soul.

Because it can only be used in melee range, few casters study the Black Flame Hand.

But at this moment, it was an excellent chance for Dalama to turn the tide.

Spell countering is powerful, yet there are three ways to break it.

First, an instant‑cast spell that leaves no time to counter; second, increasing distance, as counterspell range is short; third, staying out of sight, since an unseen cast cannot be countered.

Dalama employed the third method, circling behind Reslin to avoid his spell being interrupted.

The students watching the battle were full of admiration.

Dalama truly lived up to the reputation; when faced with Reslin's Arcane missile storm, he devised a countermeasure and executed it perfectly.

Once the shield is broken, with Reslin's fragile body, Dalama can knock him down without any spell.

Snap!

With a light sound, Dalama's Black Flame Hand pressed against the Vector Shield; under the corrosive fire of shadow energy, the shield's rainbow light rippled, yet it did not collapse as expected.

Not only did it not collapse, the fluctuation was hardly intense.

A solid, unyielding sensation came from Dalama's hand, as if his Black Flame Hand had no effect, merely a palm attempting to pierce a steel wall.

His complexion involuntarily turned astonished.

Then he saw Reslin turn his head and meet his gaze.

Reslin's eyes were calm and indifferent; he blinked, and from the depths of his pupils shot out an indescribable message.

In an instant, Dalama fell victim.

He seemed to witness the most terrifying thing in the world; his mind filled with boundless chaos, consciousness blank, eyes darting wildly, blood vessels prominent, his body frozen yet trembling slightly, as if on the brink of losing control.

"What happened to him?"

Polaluisi and the others couldn't comprehend; they couldn't see Reslin's gaze, only saw Dalama suddenly pause before Reslin, ceasing his attack.

Reslin naturally wouldn't explain to anyone.

It has an effect similar to the Fear Technique, belonging to a supreme Element, cast through the gaze, but far stronger and harder to defend against, yet it doesn't cause the enemy to flee in panic, like a mindless walking corpse with no defense.

Under the puzzled gazes of Polaluisi and the others, Reslin seized Dalama's wrist and pressed it against Dalama's chest.

The Black Flame Hand is a sustained spell; once completed, it can persist for a while.

Dalama remained in the Delirium, unaware of the pain; amid a sizzling sound, the black palm nearly sank into flesh, scorching a handprint on his chest.

Until Reslin released his grip, the Delirium Technique ended as well.

"Ah…"

Dalama's consciousness returned to his body, letting out a scream, then collapsed, unable to rise.

The energy of the Black Flame Hand assaulted his soul, boundless pain flooding his mind; the high elf, never having undergone a Soul Transformation ceremony, could not endure pain as well as a Wizard, rolled on the ground several times before gradually recalling that he was still dueling.

He forced himself to endure the pain, stopped rolling, lay on his back, and saw that everyone was watching him, their eyes full of mixed feelings.

Reslin stood a few steps away, looking down at him from above.

"Your spellcasting skill is decent, your combat response quick, but you're still far from being able to challenge me." Reslin glanced at the handprint on Dalama's chest, "Pain is the best lesson; it makes you remember more deeply. You're welcome to seek revenge anytime."

After speaking, Reslin turned and entered his own room.

Only after his figure vanished behind the door did Dalama sit up, his forehead already damp with cold sweat brought on by the pain.

Po La Rui Si and a few others walked over, each with lingering fear on their faces.

Dalama's strength was evident to everyone; in the past few years in Weizelan Fu Kong Cheng he had almost never met a rival, being unrivaled among his peers. Yet against Reslin he was beaten so miserably; if they were in his place, the result would be even worse.

Spairohok wore a face of awe, "No wonder the teacher was the first to utter Reslin's name!"

Jia Lu also nodded in deep agreement.

"He didn't move at all," Po La Rui Si suddenly said.

"What?" Spairohok was momentarily confused, until after a few seconds he suddenly understood: Po La Rui Si meant that Reslin had stood in place throughout the fight, not taking a single step.

That detail instantly plunged everyone into silence.

Dalama further realized the gap between himself and Reslin; this psychological pain was harder for him to bear than the physical pain.

Po La Rui Si couldn't help but ask curiously, "Dalama, how did he manage to control you just now?"

The high elf disliked being sat on the ground while being stared at; he slowly rose, said nothing, and refused to answer Po La Rui Si's question.

"Let me heal you a bit."

Zhenna performed a water therapy on Dalama, easing the pain; the handprint on his chest began to heal, but the scorch marks left by the flames could not be fully removed, looking terrifying.

After a few attempts she shook her head, "The corrosive power of the Black Flame Hand is too strong; you'd better go find the teacher, otherwise you'll be left with aftereffects and endless torment."

Dalama took out his badge, about to open a portal, but hesitated.

He recalled Reslin's words and said in a low voice, "No need. Pain will become my best friend, driving me forward. I will keep this handprint until the day I defeat him."

Dalama regained the elf's pride.

He gave the crowd an elegant bow, staggered as he opened his own room's door and entered, leaving behind the four staring at each other—including Po La Rui Si.

"I'm back, thank you all for your concern."

"Updates have resumed, the office has been secured, and from now on I'll clock in daily to write, so the output will increase."

(End of chapter)