The Tournament (4)

Last time, when he'd fought a High-level magic apprentice, they'd kept their distance. No matter how fast magic was, there was still time to react.

But facing a Formal Knight this time, Donald felt far more pressure.

If his offensive magic couldn't suppress his opponent, then once a Mage got caught at close range, he'd be as helpless as a lamb before a Knight. And judging by Quisar's huge, Half-Orc-like head, the idea of showing mercy didn't seem to exist in his mind.

Standing close to Quisar felt completely different from seeing him from afar in the stands.

Compared with the slender Donald, Quisar stood a full head taller. The whites of his bulging eyes were laced with red veins, and beneath his broad nostrils, his slightly upturned nose flared with each ragged breath.

It felt like facing a beast. Donald quietly decided that if anything looked wrong, he had to shoot Quisar before he got close. He couldn't hesitate.

As he thought this, Donald's gaze roamed over Quisar, searching for the best place to hit him—somewhere that would take him out of the fight without injuring him too badly.

Quisar suddenly asked in a deep, rumbling voice, "What are you looking for?"

Donald remembered Wesley's earlier comparison of Half-Orcs and replied with a grin, "Where are you hiding your tail?"

"I'm not a Half-Orc. The academy checked." A trace of sadness crossed Quisar's face. He'd understood the implication behind Donald's words, and had probably been mocked that way often.

Donald suddenly felt he'd gone too far. He quickly stopped smiling and said earnestly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have joked like that."

"It's all right. I'll still give it everything I've got." Quisar grinned broadly. Donald guessed that was probably his way of smiling. He suddenly felt that his opponent wasn't as cruel as he'd imagined. Maybe he was simply serious, just like Pas. It was only that they showed their seriousness in different ways in the arena.

They said nothing more. At the referee's direction, Quisar obediently retreated to a sufficient distance.

The match began, and neither fighter hesitated.

Quisar charged straight at Donald, his momentum like a herd of bison at full gallop.

Donald opened with the most complex offensive spell he'd mastered so far: Thirty-Eight Yuan Fire Magic, Blazing Meteor.

Nine Six Yuan Fireball formations, arranged together like a honeycomb, took shape. When cast, they produced nine fireballs, each far more powerful than an individual Six Yuan Fireball.

The nine fireballs appeared in a tight cluster before Donald's palm. Once they shot forward, they gradually spread apart, front, back, left, and right, truly resembling nine meteors blazing as they burned through the atmosphere. The only difference was their strange blue glow.

Before the audience could react, the Magic Apprentices and professors in the Contestant Area had already let out a chorus of gasps. Nearly everyone recognized Donald's spell at once: the intermediate apprentice spell, Blazing Meteor. But no one could understand why all nine fireballs were nearly as large as intermediate fireballs.

Weren't the nine fireballs created by this spell supposed to be only a little larger than ordinary Six Yuan Fireballs?

Even harder to understand was why the fireballs were blue.

This was Donald's first time using offensive Fire Element magic at the tournament. The Fire Wall Spell, the defensive Fire Element spell he'd used earlier, had been the same bright red as everyone else's.

Those questions lasted only an instant. The next moment, all nine fireballs slammed straight into Quisar. The Battle Qi swelling over his chest flickered wildly under the barrage, yet he still maintained his charging speed.

The attack hadn't suppressed him. It hadn't even slowed his charge. Donald couldn't help feeling a surge of anxiety.

He raised his hand again and fired another Blazing Meteor.

Quisar veered slightly, apparently trying to dodge, but the two of them were already only a dozen or so meters apart. The fireballs reached him in the blink of an eye, giving him almost no time to react. Once again, every one struck his chest.

To everyone's surprise, Quisar didn't slow down this time. He sped up.

Donald didn't dare pause to watch. He immediately fired another Blazing Meteor as fast as he could.

Before this volley could hit Quisar, Donald had already raised the Magic Staff in his left hand. With his right, he slid an Ice Spear into the slot in the handle, drew back, and took aim. Only when he felt the little hole in his palm line up did he finally feel a measure of security.

This was the first time Donald had raised his Magic Staff at the Martial Magic Tournament. The audience watched the strange action with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

The Exploding Ice Bead was ready, poised to deliver a fatal strike. But just then, Quisar suddenly lost his balance and pitched forward, crashing to the ground. The flames still burning on his chest were finally smothered beneath him.

The stands fell abruptly silent, then erupted in thunderous cheers and gasps of astonishment.

The tournament's undisputed top competitor, a Formal Knight, had finally succumbed to three consecutive powerful offensive spells from Donald.

The noise in the Contestant Area wasn't as loud as the stands, but the people there were even more shocked. Those who knew enough about Fire Element magic had probably already guessed that Donald's fireballs glowed blue because of their extreme temperature.

Those nine blue fireballs might not have been as large as intermediate fireballs, but each one had nearly the power of a High-level Fireball Spell. Every fireball was as powerful as one of Pas's Stone Spike Spells. For Quisar, who had only just advanced to Formal Knight, taking twenty-seven such fireballs in so short a time had been his limit.

In the VIP stands, Lucia's beautiful face flushed with excitement. She knew Donald's Magic Staff was astonishingly powerful, but she hadn't realized he'd become this strong. Even empty-handed, he could defeat a Formal Knight.

King Auston was in an excellent mood. He even remembered to give Clark a cold look. Clark finally fell silent, but his calm expression gave the king a bad feeling.

The misery and dejection on Pas's face deepened. He knew that he wouldn't have been able to defend against Donald's Fire Element magic either.

Donald slowly lowered his Magic Staff. Sweat had already seeped into the palm of his right hand, which had just gripped the handle. He'd come within a hair of firing. If Quisar had charged just one meter farther, Donald would have pulled the trigger.

He shook off his daze, then walked over to Quisar amid the cheering.

By then, the referee had already turned Quisar onto his back.

All the fireballs had hit Quisar's broad chest. Their scorching heat had melted through his armor, leaving a large, charred patch across his chest.

"He still has a heartbeat! He's breathing!" The referee hurriedly waved to the side of the arena, calling for the medical staff waiting there.

Donald knelt beside Quisar, took out a small half-bottle of Orange Healing Potion, and carefully tipped a little into his mouth.

"What did you give him?" The referee had been busy arranging the rescue. When he turned around and saw that Quisar had swallowed the potion Donald had given him, he hurriedly asked.

"Dwarf Recovery Potion," Donald replied. Adarua had given it to him. He hadn't used it all on the day of the rebellion, so he'd kept it with him ever since.

Seeing the orange liquid in the bottle, the referee cried out, "Extreme North Orange Potion?! How do you have that?"

Donald kept quiet. He'd never heard the potion called that before, but he'd guessed it had to be extremely precious. Otherwise, Adarua wouldn't have given him such a small bottle.

When the medical staff gathered around heard the referee say Quisar had taken a small dose of Extreme North Demon Orange, their expressions relaxed. But they looked at Donald with shock. They didn't know whether it was because of the astonishing power he'd shown, or because he carried Extreme North Demon Orange with him.

Thanks to prompt treatment, Quisar was soon out of danger. Donald, meanwhile, advanced to the Top Four with an undisputed performance.

Over the two days of the Martial Magic Tournament, five rounds and nearly a hundred matches had delighted the audience. But the expected Top Four matches took a dramatic turn.

Donald and Mino were each matched against one of the two Squires who had barely won their Top Eight matches. Both Squires immediately forfeited. Clearly, they'd sensibly chosen to save their strength for the upcoming third-place match, where they could fight for a place on the podium, rather than waste a shred of energy in a Top Four match they had no chance of winning.

Donald advanced without a fight, moving one step closer to the final two.

The third-place match, which began first, was indeed another grueling battle. Both competitors were already injured, and they fought even more fiercely for a place in the top three. The audience, to their credit, cheered on their grit and courage from beginning to end. It was deeply moving, almost enough to make everyone forget that these same spectators had loudly booed the two fighters when they'd forfeited their earlier matches.

"Have you decided where you want your territory?" Wesley suddenly asked out of nowhere.

"What territory?"

"You made the top three. The king will grant you a title and a territory. Did you forget?" Wesley seemed even more concerned about it than Donald was.

"Even if I'm granted a title, I can't choose the territory myself, can I?" Donald replied.

Roger heard them talking and couldn't help interjecting. "Hey! Shouldn't you be thinking about how to deal with your next opponent?"

"I've already figured that out," Donald replied with a smile as he slowly rose to his feet.

The match in the arena had ended. The winner could barely stand, but a satisfied smile showed on his face beneath the blood and dirt.

Donald glanced toward the VIP platform. Magician Clark was looking at him too, expressionless. But the Thorn Empire's second prince beside him had a barely concealed look of excitement.