Battle Between Mages

In the center of the vast, empty platform, a grayish-white figure slowly emerged from the air.

A pale, elegant mage's robe draped over the youth's frame, a magnificent staff held firmly in his palm, and his golden hair shimmered under the light cast from above.

The phantom was a perfect replica of Ryan's appearance, yet the handsome face, carved from the same mold as the youth, lacked even a ripple of emotion, radiating a cold, indifferent aura that forbade any approach.

Those azure eyes had lost their vitality and color, their gaze icy and detached; the hollow look felt like a freezing wind carrying snowflakes across an ancient ice field, bringing an endless, bone-chilling cold.

The polished, gleaming floor reflected both figures as the two handsome, golden-haired youths stared at each other. The cold, mechanical gaze of the indifferent youth locked onto the challenger before him, his automated mind rapidly calculating combat strategies while his hands moved incessantly to seize the initiative.

Opposite him, a cunning smile tugged at the corner of the young mage's mouth, and the fighting spirit leaping within his deep, ocean-like eyes burned like a wildfire igniting the sea.

The replica opened with a classic Magic Missile, launching a probing attack against the target in front of him.

Three glowing darts formed from magical force shot out from the phantom's hand, tracing a complex trajectory through the air before striking the target.

The first missile successfully struck the golden-haired youth's head, but the mage's figure vanished in a flicker; the subsequent missiles missed their mark, continuing along their path to strike the floor and the barrier at the edge of the platform.

Ryan's figure reappeared behind the replica, and taking advantage of the replica's casting interval, he began casting Fireball from dozens of feet away. However, the cold-faced replica turned and countered with a prepared Counterspell.

The gap in rank caused the magic in Ryan's hands to be instantly snuffed out. The mage cursed under his breath and raised his hand to fire a Magic Missile of his own at the replica.

The moment Ryan's replica appeared, this battle between mages had already quietly begun.

The speed at which the Virtual Martial Arena generated spiritual replicas was too fast, dashing Ryan's hopes of a preemptive sneak attack. Thus, with a thought, Ryan used the cantrip Minor Illusion to leave an image of himself in place to confuse the replica, while he used Invisibility to hide to the side, preparing to fight dirty.

Yet, this strategy seemed to have been seen through by the replica; the moment Ryan dispelled his invisibility, the Counterspell in the replica's hand had long been primed, waiting for Ryan to emerge.

As for why Ryan didn't rely on his current formidable physique to slip up to the replica and give him a good thumping, Ryan reasoned that facing a mage already buffed with Stoneskin and Fire Shield, he wasn't stupid enough to charge in like some muscle-brained barbarian just to serve himself up on a platter.

As expected, the magic missiles nimbly sliced through the air and struck the replica, only to ripple harmlessly against the spell shield surrounding him.

Ryan watched as the replica ignored the harassment of the magic missiles, the phantom methodically preparing a spell, his cold expression and indifferent gaze silently mocking the mage's naivety.

Beads of sweat seeped from the golden-haired youth's fair forehead; he had already recognized what spell the replica was calmly preparing.

"Damn it all, you really aren't playing fair!"

Ryan sighed inwardly. Although he had foreseen that this battle would be extremely difficult, he hadn't expected the replica's spell selection to be so cautious.

Battles between mages are often conducted through mutual suspicion and prediction. Before the fight, neither side knows what spells the other has recorded in their spell slots for the day. They probe each other amidst mutual distrust, elemental hums vibrating in their hands, counterspells and illusory phantoms intertwining; neither knows if the next arrival will be a roaring Fireball or a long-awaited, malicious polymorph.

Because of this, a mage's spell list is their greatest secret; a prepared mage fears no challenge.

In Faerûn, perhaps a learned spellcaster might judge the spell being cast—and perform a targeted counter—by observing the opponent's gestures and material components during combat, while shallow, ignorant novices sometimes don't even know what magic they died to.

Combat is a stage for wisdom and strength, a collision of steel, a weaving of strategy and courage. The strong dominate the masses with their power, while the weak can also rise up, shaking their fists and shouting at the heavens.

Fate is so mysterious and profound that even things as inconceivable as a legendary assassin tripping and being stabbed in the heart by a child can happen. Ultimately, combat depends on strength, wisdom, and planning—which is why Ryan dared to challenge a level 12 mage replica.

After all, this is a real world, not the game from Ryan's past life; levels are not everything, and true combat is not a childish game of comparing stats.

Deception and counter-deception, prediction and counter-prediction, seeking opportunities amidst treachery and schemes—beneath the calm, smoke-free surface of a mage's battle lies a treacherous, surging undercurrent of mutual maneuvering. This is the romance unique to mages.

But the point that gave Ryan the most headache was that, facing a replica with a mechanical mind, all his plans seemed to have been analyzed by the replica's database. Ryan even suspected the replica had used True Strike and the 5th-level spell Scrying to profile and model his actions.

A level 12 mage is no small fry in Faerûn; they can even cast powerful 6th-level magic. Changing the terrain, summoning wind and rain, and dominating the outcome of a battle are not difficult tasks for them.

A mage of this level can already be called a "Mage Lord." Walking the continent of Faerûn, they could easily become honored guests of nobles, or even act as a tyrannical city lord in a small town with ease.

Although Ryan knew a level 12 mage wouldn't be easy to deal with—after all, two 5th-level spell slots and one 6th-level spell slot bring a earth-shattering, exponential increase in combat power—he hadn't expected this replica to be such a turtle!

The spell the replica was about to complete was his only 6th-level spell—Globe of Invulnerability. Its primary effect was to summon a fixed, shimmering barrier within a 10-foot radius around the caster.

Any spell of 5th level or lower cast from outside the barrier could not affect creatures or objects within it, and even spells cast using higher-level slots could not forcibly break through this thin barrier.

Ryan didn't know if that dog of a Tower Spirit had combined his own thought patterns to select the spell list, but Globe of Invulnerability stacked magic resistance, nullifying all of Ryan's ranged options, while Stoneskin combined with Fire Shield meant that getting into melee was just asking to be killed.

Coupled with essential mage mobility spells like Dimension Door and Misty Step, this was exactly the loadout Ryan would have chosen for himself. Once the casting was finished, the mage would instantly transform into a turtle shell with maxed magic resistance and armor, the kind that could summon fire and lightning while dealing maximum damage.

To be fair, Ryan thought this spell combination was quite sweet, but when it was his turn to experience it as an opponent, he had only one thing to say: "What the hell."

Ryan attempted to move and close the distance to physically interrupt the replica's casting, but the replica, having anticipated this, had already cast Mirror Image before starting the spell.

At this moment, on the other side of the platform, three identical handsome youths were chanting incantations with expressionless faces.

Ryan steeled himself, stopped in his tracks, and pushed his hand speed to the limit to cast a spell. A simplified Magic Missile shot out, and three glowing darts struck their respective targets, distinguishing the real body hidden among them.

But it was too late. As the casting completed, a shimmering barrier rose around the replica, and he began to methodically prepare his next spell.

In a daze, Ryan thought he saw a mocking smile appear on the replica's face, but upon closer inspection, the replica remained in his cold, icy posture, ruthlessly and efficiently suppressing the mage through the sheer gap in their ranks.