"Buzz buzz buzz—"
As Ronan stepped off the platform, discussions about him buzzed all around.
Countless eyes focused on him, making him the unique center of attention at this moment.
The first genius to defeat a third-level opponent while still being at the second level in the competition! The first second-level wizard to achieve victory over a third-level seeded powerhouse!
An unprecedented achievement.
And the exaggerated number of domain resonances Ronan had displayed earlier...
Ronan's reputation soared to unprecedented heights, almost rivaling those third-level wizard geniuses on the field.
However, Ronan felt no joy; instead, a heavy shadow hung over his heart.
"Damien, you—"
As he reached the Silver Ring's area, he was met with astonished, admiring, and respectful gazes.
Clemens seemed quite excited and was about to say something when Ronan raised his hand to stop him.
Ronan quickly approached Caroni and Archido, calling their names softly.
"Well done, Damien."
Caroni's eyes were filled with unabashed admiration for him, and the Fourth Ring Master, Archido, beside him, also looked at him with increasing fondness.
"I thought you needed to use your ancient bloodline power to have a chance against Damien."
Caroni remarked, "I didn't expect you to exceed my expectations and achieve this incredible feat without using your bloodline."
"Your ice magic heritage has traces of northern ice wizards. Is it from there?" Archido inquired casually.
Ronan, however, had no intention of accepting their praise or responding. He shook his head and said, "I didn't fully defeat Damien. He conceded on his own."
"Hmm?!"
Caroni and Archido were taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Ronan carefully recounted the end of his battle with Damien to them.
After he finished, he looked towards the Palace of Thorns but couldn't find Damien.
After his "defeat" in the battle with Ronan, it seemed Damien chose to "exit" in "shame."
To outsiders, this appeared a normal reaction, as Damien was the first third-level to be defeated by a second-level. He was the greatest hope for the Palace of Thorns but brought shame upon them.
With Damien's elimination, the Palace of Thorns had little chance of achieving a good ranking in this competition, and at this moment, everyone there looked deeply displeased.
"It might not be as you think."
After listening to Ronan's account, Caroni pondered briefly before saying, "Perhaps this is exactly what Damien wanted."
Ronan frowned, "You mean he conceded like this on purpose to make me paranoid?"
"Yes."
Caroni nodded, "Maybe he still had some fight left in him but felt he couldn't win against you, so he left an impression that 'he hadn't truly lost.' After all, many people know you have unused bloodline power, don't they?"
"A veteran genius like Damien, who has lived close to a century, has thoughts deeper than you might imagine."
Archido agreed, adding with a cold smile, "I've seen tricks like this too many times. If you let him disturb you, then he truly succeeded. Remember, in such a setting, no one has any reason to concede easily, let alone sacrifice their reputation as a third-level wizard."
"Alright."
Ronan seemed convinced.
"Prepare well for the next battle, Damien. We have high hopes for you."
Caroni encouraged him a few more times. Ronan nodded, then sat down alone, his expression calm but still feeling a shadow over his heart.
Was Damien's concession just a bluff, as Caroni and Archido suggested?
He didn't know.
But something felt off.
Due to his body refining practice, Ronan had sharper instincts than most, something ordinary wizards couldn't comprehend.
Ronan lifted his head to survey the entire competition venue.
The duels on the platform continued, everything appearing normal.
Yet he sensed a faint whiff of conspiracy.
But its origin was unknown.
Ronan felt a bit restless.
He searched the arena repeatedly but still couldn't find Damien.
Instead, he inadvertently locked eyes with a fiery, domineering young man from Molten Lake.
Ignatius.
The other coldly watched him. Compared to the initial animosity, Ignatius's gaze now held some inexplicable quality.
He smirked at Ronan, then slowly looked away.
Recalling Clemens's reminder before the competition, a thought occurred to Ronan—
"Could Damien and this guy have made some agreement, deliberately letting me win so I could face him in a later match and be killed by him on the platform?"
Ronan quickly dismissed this notion, thinking it unlikely.
Wouldn't it be too costly to bribe a third-level wizard to willingly bear the shame of being defeated by a second-level and possibly face punishment from their faction?
Amid his speculations, the second round of competition quietly concluded.
In the second round, Ronan mainly focused on the battles of the third-level wizard geniuses.
But due to the significant gap with his opponents, he couldn't glean much. Most third-level wizards quickly resolved their matches with one or two spells.
The one he focused on, Anglair, used only a simple second-level [Scythe of Shadows] spell in both rounds.
This spell had evidently reached "master level" for him, manifesting as countless cool crescent moons falling from dense clouds, dispersing rich domain power, cutting through his opponents' defenses in just a few moves before declaring victory.
Jupiter of the Thunder Council was even more exaggerated. Lightning flashed during his moves, and after the bright display, he returned to his original position as if he hadn't moved at all, while his opponent lay on the platform, charred and paralyzed.
The other third-level geniuses were much the same, each showcasing their own flair, their trump cards still well-hidden.
As the fourth day's sun rose, the third round began.
The colorful orb began its third rotation. Ronan was about to stand when a beam of light struck him.
Before he could react, a faint message emanated from the light beam enveloping him—
"Bye?"
Ronan was a bit stunned, then slowly sat back down amidst envious gazes from all around.
With fifteen participants left in the third round, one would indeed have a bye, but Ronan hadn't expected to be the lucky one.
The third round ended quickly and without much drama, as the remaining third-level geniuses "cleverly" avoided each other and swiftly dispatched their opponents, moving directly into the fourth round.
In this round, the Silver Ring had both Ronan and Orion in the top eight.
"Damien, relax and do your best.
No matter the outcome, it's the best result for us."
Caroni's advice echoed in Ronan's ears as he stood before the stage.
Caroni was right; even if Ronan lost his next match, the results the Silver Ring had achieved in this competition were beyond everyone's expectations.
As the sun set on the fifth day.
Ronan watched the orange sun slowly disappear along the horizon, with an unexplainable emotion stirring within him as daylight faded and night surged.
Turning back, the colorful orb's allocation had ended, a beam of light fell on him, and the other chosen was...
Ronan's gaze shifted forward, finally landing on a lazy young man with brown hair, wine-red eyes, and an aura of mischief.
Anglair.
The battle he had long awaited was finally at hand, yet Ronan felt an unusual calm.
Conversely, Anglair seemed surprised by the early arrival of this match.
With a slightly startled expression, he rose from his luxurious black high-back chair, glanced skyward, then looked at Ronan with a smile Ronan couldn't decipher.
Shaking his head, Anglair slowly walked towards the platform.
Ronan followed, ascending step by step into the air.
Finally, the two stood at the center of the dueling platform.
Facing Anglair, numerous scenes flashed through Ronan's mind.
All the interactions between him and Anglair, the mysterious elixir that changed his fate...
Unconsciously, a faint battle intent ignited within Ronan, like a wildfire on an autumn plain, starting as mere sparks but quickly growing, until it set his eyes ablaze.
"Anglair."
Ronan softly uttered the name.
But before he could say more, Anglair interrupted him.
"I know what you want to say, I can feel your desire..."
Anglair looked at him, speaking softly, "But unfortunately, my dear Ronan Damien.
The once naive fruit that intruded my garden...
I may have to disappoint you again."
"Uh..."
Ronan was momentarily taken aback, the burning battle intent in his eyes suddenly halted.
At that moment, he sensed something unusual emanating from Anglair.
"Thump!"
His heart thudded heavily.
Ronan's breathing became slightly rapid, feeling the ancient frosty hydra bloodline crystal in his heart trembling violently.
Anglair...
Anglair also possessed a bloodline!
But the power he was slowly releasing didn't seem directed at Ronan.
What did he mean?
What was he planning?
"Currently, you're just a little short of qualifying to challenge me."
Anglair extended his hand, showing a small gap between his thumb and forefinger, with a strange, eerie smile on his face.
He spread his arms, visible shadows expanding behind him.
The bloodline crystal in Ronan's heart trembled faster, his expression slightly distorted. A strong sense of foreboding and unease drove him to quickly approach Anglair.
"What are you doing?"
Ronan rasped, shouting at Anglair.
But Anglair didn't answer, merely smiling at him.
At this moment.
Anglair's appearance bore a striking resemblance to when Ronan first saw him in the corpse garden.
Gritting his teeth, Ronan swung his arm, conjuring a brilliant crescent blade formed from the alloys of demon-tungsten and Neman silver, hurling it at Anglair, only for it to be stopped mid-air by an invisible force.
"I'll be waiting for you at the Southern Wizard Genius Gathering, in the top spot at Helamsk."
By now, Anglair's form had expanded into a massive shadow, with a pair of pitch-black wings unfolding behind him, as dark as the deepest night.
He smiled at Ronan, his lips moving as he spoke, word by word, just like back then, "Don't die before I see you next time.
Remember, this is a threat."
With those words, Anglair's wings flapped gently, and at the instant when the bloodline crystal in Ronan's heart trembled to the extreme...
"Shhh—"
Like a television screen suddenly turned off.
The shadow before Ronan abruptly contracted and vanished, along with Anglair's figure.
Ronan stood frozen, his right hand still extended, not yet recovered from Anglair's sudden departure.
In the next moment, he heard a massive explosion from another direction, accompanied by an unprecedentedly terrifying energy shockwave.
He caught sight of flashing lightning, and amidst the dancing beams, Jupiter, who had been seated on a silver throne like a "monarch," suddenly appeared before him.
Staring directly at Ronan, Jupiter's face quickly turned pale and ashen, a mouthful of blood spurting out, with a massive bloody hole, as if clawed by a bird, at the center of his chest.
Startled, Ronan took a step back.
As he retreated, terrifying flames erupted from the other side, causing even more violent energy disturbances.
Roars, shouts, and the sounds of spells clashing...
In the sky, the six "Dawn Suns" remained suspended, but now one red as molten lava and another green as emerald suddenly radiated light before violently crashing into the nearest two "suns"!
"Boom!"
An indescribable tidal wave of energy rolled through the sky, its wrathful, shocked, and unfathomable voice echoing overhead. But before Ronan could discern what it was saying, he felt something silently sweep across above.
He looked up sharply, seeing only a blurred figure.
This figure radiated unparalleled gray light, becoming the seventh "Sun" in the sky.
This gray sun expanded continuously, like a giant mouth, slowly engulfing the other six "Dawn Suns."
"Resurrect... Savior..."
"Praise, worship, follow!"
"The old should be cleansed, the new will dawn."
"Chant His true name!!"
"Buzz—"
Voices of countless men and women rose simultaneously, chanting the same strange, ancient incantations, sounding ethereal yet eerie amidst all the chaos and noise.
Silvery, mirror-like light blossomed in the night sky, countless silver beams falling like rain.
Ronan stood at the center of the vast dueling platform, not far from the gravely injured Jupiter.
He looked dazed, his eyes vacant as he gazed at the darkened sky, murmuring softly.
"Damn, Anglair, you madman."
"What have you done this time?!"