"Flint's attack was very hasty, and he threw out curses as if they had no magic power."
Wayne's defense is impenetrable; aside from the first point he conceded, he hasn't conceded any more points in the first ten minutes.
Lee didn't know Vincent had any backup plans, but he knew that Marcus using the spell like a basic attack wouldn't work.
Putting aside whether his magic power could keep up, just shouting these incantations would make his throat steam.
Short arms and legs—dust everywhere—long beard—
After another string of curses, Marcus's breathing became noticeably heavier.
He immediately used the Shield Charm to protect his front.
"Wayne didn't take the opportunity to attack; he was giving Flint time to recover?"
The only student who could figure out what Vincent was doing Hermione, who had already guessed it.
On the professors' side, there were only four.
Sprout didn't have much practical experience, but he already suspected there might be some deeper meaning behind it.
Flitwick was a seasoned duelist, only slightly later than Dumbledore.
"Stop with these petty tricks!" Snape's face was very displeased.
To dare to openly copy a spell can only be described as having great skill and audacity.
Despite his meticulous planning, he overlooked the Finite Incantatem.
McGonagall slightly suppressed her joyful expression. "Severus, there's no rule against learning spells that the other person has used."
Snape did not refute, but his expression became even more unpleasant.
"Filius, how long do you think it will take?" Dumbledore picked up a candy from the dish that had been prepared beforehand.
Flitwick didn't answer immediately, but waited until Flitwick frowned, irritated by the smell of the candy.
"Judging from Mr. Wayne's increasingly rapid movements, I think it's just a matter of angle."
Dumbledore swallowed the candy as if he had made a great decision. "I knew a long time ago that he was actually a child who hid his pride very well."
Although I'm reluctant to admit it, some Slytherin students have always held a deep prejudice against his background.
The professors all turned their attention to Draco.
Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise Zabini and Pansy, and Daphne, who were next to him, were all key players.
Snape's expression shifted slightly. "Only magic can defeat magic. This practice of bringing enemies down to the same level doesn't prove anything."
"But this is a signal." McGonagall looked at Marcus was launching a renewed attack from within the fog.
"This proves that Muggle are not entirely useless; there are many things that wizards can humbly learn from them."
"Tap-tap-tap-tap" Footsteps came from the stairs of the stands.
Just as Snape was about to say something, he looked over at the others.
With her tousled curly hair and unkempt appearance, Trelawney sat next to McGonagall under several pairs of questioning eyes.
"Sybill?" McGonagall pursed her lips. "I thought you wouldn't come to join in this."
"I've received a call from destiny." Trelawney picked up a bottle of wine that was placed to the side as if it were a natural thing. "Fantastic!"
Ah—I mean, today's exchange was fantastic.
She uncorked the bottle with ease, took a deep sniff with a look of pure delight, and exclaimed, "Three years old, just my favorite!"
Dumbledore smile. "Sybill, it's going to be quite a struggle to get you out of the castle."
Trelawney looked around, as if searching for something.
McGonagall shifted her gaze to the empty seat next to Snape.
"Oh— Professor Binns is here too!"
Under the bright sun, ghosts are hardly noticeable.
Trelawney poured herself a glass of sherry, then happily sipped half of it. "The blonde student is Wayne, isn't he? My Third Eye has already seen the outcome."
The professors ignored her, not even Dumbledore, who couldn't resist picking up another piece of candy.
"He lost miserably and lost face in front of the entire school."
McGonagall relaxed her furrowed brow. "Thank you for your Prophecy, Sybill."
"You're welcome." Trelawney refilled her glass, her gaze drifting towards the ring.
Marcus changed his strategy.
Every time he casts a curse, he moves one step closer to Vincent's position.
Shortening the distance makes magic easier to hit, which seems like an advantage.
But those who knew the inside story understood that this approach was foolish.
The clearer you see, the faster you learn.
After Vincent knocked down more than a dozen stone spikes, he basically memorized all of these evil curses.
Marcus, who was less than ten feet away, suddenly crouched down and pointed his wand at the arena in front of him. "Wayne, let's see if you can continue to be so leisurely!"
"Diffindo — Locomotor Mortis— "
A whole stone slab, about five feet high, rose up and tumbled forward with tremendous force.
To remove the Leg-Locker Curse, you'll be hit; if you try to dodge, another evil curse is lurking in the shadows.
No matter which option Vincent chooses, it seems he will be in danger.
But he chose to touch his chest with his wand and disappear before the stone slab fell.
"Homenum Revelio— "
After casting four or five Revealing Charm in a row, all that could be seen were the small, broken stones that had fallen and were floating in mid-air.
"Multi-Shot Spell— "
Marcus, who was half-crouched, quickly lunged forward and rolled in the opposite direction from the source of the sound.
"The Entrapment Jinx— "
Caught off guard, one of his legs got stuck in the swamp.
The moment he pulled it out, he suddenly bent over, his face contorted as if he had been hit by something.
Vincent released the Disillusionment Charm and withdrew his right fist from the stomach.
"You—you're actually learning my magic!"
"Thank you for your demonstration." He rested his left hand, holding the wand, on his right shoulder and bowed slightly to Marcus in a gentlemanly manner.
"Damn bastard!"
"Protego— "
The fist, no bigger than half a face, was stopped by a hand radiating heat.
"Snap—" Marcus's outstretched wand was also stopped by his blow.
With alder wood being such a sturdy wood, Vincent could confidently go toe-to-toe with any wand.
"It's going to bend."
"Ah!!!" Marcus roared and slammed his forehead hard.
As Vincent dodged to the right, he forcefully twisted his fist outwards.
With a "crack," Marcus dislocated his left shoulder.
Vincent twisted his arm behind his back and bent his knee against Vincent's knee joint.
Marcus legs were not straight, lowered his body and knelt on one knee on the ring.
"A game-winning shot! Wayne has subdued Flint in an instant!"
"This is the competition of the year—oh no, I mean it's a very practical fighting technique." Lee was so excited that he was almost incoherent.
In a typical wizard duel, Vincent would have won by now.
On the arena.
"I know you won't give up."
Marcus felt the pressure behind him disappear, and a deep sense of shame welled up inside him.
He certainly wouldn't give up so easily.
It's only 1:1, there are still plenty of opportunities.