Fierce Battle

But Take saw through the mechanism at a glance—that Magic Shield didn't exist while he was casting; it only appeared the moment he stopped any action.

In games, this was a mechanic called Focused Magic, where magic only maintained its effect when the caster's attention was concentrated.

"His shield only exists when he's not casting!"

The mage's face turned cold. He hadn't expected the most laid-back-looking person to be the first to see through his magic; it seemed he'd have to take her out first.

By now, the Archer had already aimed at him again. He had no idea how a young girl had such strength and stamina, and that Flail Player had already charged right up to his face.

The Flail Player let out a shout, activating the warrior's basic skill Battle Cry while swinging his flail toward the Fire Mage.

The mage snorted coldly, and his entire figure vanished without a trace.

Invisible? No, it was Teleport!

Take felt a scorching heat at her back. She reacted quickly, rolling forward as a ball of blazing fire exploded in her previous position. Sparks flew and stung her skin, sending sharp pains through her.

From start to finish, the enemy had already used at least four different spells: White Mist to block vision, Ignite to conjure and control flames, a Magic Shield to avoid ranged damage, and Teleport.

Every single one of these spells was incredibly powerful, making it very difficult to find a countermeasure.

Take glanced at her status bar. Just the splash damage from the fireball had taken 37% of her health; a direct hit would have killed her instantly.

Missing his shot, the Fire Mage, now teleported behind the players, curled his lip. Before the Archer could react, he began chanting again. A chaotic red flame formed in his hand, its immense heat threatening to devour everyone.

This wasn't a single spell but a combination of Ignite, Arson, and Intensify Burning—a technique only possible for a Sub-elf with his flame affinity. Even at the Sunday Secret College, no one would teach this.

Once the spell was complete, these three would be killed instantly, just like the mercenaries who had been transporting goods earlier.

But before the flame could fully form, the Fire Mage's vision suddenly went black. A wave of weakness and searing pain flooded his body.

His spell was forcibly interrupted. Confused, the Fire Mage recognized from his studies at the Sunday Secret College that he had been hit by a Curse Spell. But who had cast it? Where were they hiding?

In that tower!

He had been careless. He shouldn't have revealed himself so early; instead, he should have relied on the advantage of White Mist to kill them all.

The Fire Mage quickly realized his mistake, but it was too late for regret. He could already hear the Archer's arrow flying toward him. At that moment, the Fire Mage instead grew calm.

He channeled mana into the ring on his left hand, and a surge of Fire Element activity came from it. A red light flashed, and the curse was immediately dispelled. The mage unhurriedly re-cast his Elemental Shield, blocking the arrow.

"If I hadn't been injured dealing with those old bastards, I wouldn't need to use external tools to deal with you." The Fire Mage's face was cold. The ruby-embedded ring on his left middle finger flickered a few times before losing its luster.

He pointed a finger, and a green light shot out, piercing straight through the annoying Archer's head. At the same time, his other hand moved, pulling a scroll from his pocket and using it directly on the other two.

Tier 2 spell: Charm Light!

The Flail Player felt his vision blur, and then, driven by some inexplicable force, his body moved on its own. He walked straight to the edge of the bridge and jumped off.

Take was also a target of Charm Light, but she only felt a sharp pain in her head before snapping back to her senses instantly.

This was only natural. She had wisely chosen the extraordinary trait "Savage Blood" at the start, which made her highly resistant to control effects—and it was a huge help right now!

The Fire Mage's expression shifted. He hadn't expected anyone to resist a Tier 2 control spell. Instinctively, he began chanting to finish her off with Ignite, but before he could, a sharp pain struck his chest. A crossbow bolt had pierced straight through.

Take dropped the Hand Crossbow she had been holding in reserve, drew her short sword, and charged forward, ready to fight the mage to the death.

But before she could take more than a few steps, a fierce flame engulfed her in an instant.

Having dealt with the last person, the Fire Mage remembered there was still an extraordinary being hiding in the tower. He summoned White Mist to once again shroud the stone bridge.

The Fire Mage thought calmly. The enemy was hiding in the tower, not daring to show themselves, which meant they weren't confident about facing him alone. But his injuries were severe now—that damned mercenary had even poisoned the bolt. The longer this dragged on, the worse it would be for him.

With that in mind, he cast another spell, hurling a ball of flame toward the spire while quickly moving away from his current position.

The flame exploded inside the tower, but the feedback from the Fire Element told him he hadn't hit the enemy.

Then a voice came from within the mist: "You don't have much mana left, do you."

The Fire Mage gritted his teeth and ignored it.

The direction the voice came from wasn't necessarily accurate. To conserve mana and avoid revealing his position, he didn't cast another spell.

"From start to finish, you've used two White Mists, four Ignites, one Intensify Burning, one Arson, one Elemental Shield, one Poisoned Arrow, and one Tier 2 spell scroll. Excluding the unknown mana cost of Dispel and Teleport, your total mana consumption is 32 points. That's more than half your mana pool, isn't it? Are you sure you still have the strength to cast spells?"

The voice kept coming, and each time, its position seemed to change.

The Fire Mage knew the enemy was trying to bluff him. Sure, his mana was running low, but winning this fight was still no problem.

"I'm also a student at the Sunday Secret College. Maybe our mentors even know each other."

A student? Since when did the Sunday Secret College accept students who knew Curse Spells?

The Fire Mage naturally didn't take the other's words seriously. He had an idea, pulled a green potion from his pocket, drank it, and replied, "I can't believe that unless you tell me who your mentor is."

A moment later, the voice came again.

"My mentor is the merciful Professor Siswell. You may have heard of him."

Siswell? That famous Archmage?

The Fire Mage was even more skeptical. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't bother with someone like this, but he had just drunk a Moonlight Potion and needed time to digest it. So he played along, though his tone couldn't help but carry some mockery: "I have heard of him. That professor is truly a remarkable mage, to have taught someone like you!"

The other party remained unfazed and continued.

"Since we're both students of the Sunday Secret College, why kill each other? How about we set aside our grievances for now and resolve this in a more civilized manner... Those people were my companions. Even though you killed them first, I can pretend nothing happened. What do you say?"