"Most likely the second and third reasons..."
If Emerald Court wizards used their own life energy as spellcasting fuel, then they were not fighting—they were burning the very foundation of their lives.
Such suicidal nobility did not align with a wizard's inherently profit-driven nature.
Dago lowered his gaze, his fingertips unconsciously brushing against the cold surface of the stone pillar.
"The Emerald Court's inheritance is another road to Rome."
If some secret technique could expand the body's passive carrying limit, or increase the base amount of vitality like filling a vessel with water—
Then the destructive power of the [Blue Demon Physique] after Complete Despairfication would no longer be limited by the threshold of bodily collapse.
That would be a qualitative leap.
The former transformed immense vitality into fuel for spells, using life to nourish destruction.
Dago, meanwhile, brutally hammered that force known as "despair" into every muscle fiber, turning his body into a walking disaster.
But that did not rule out one possibility—beneath Michael's slender shell, there might also lurk violence capable of devouring steel.
"Her close-combat abilities might be a trump card she has never revealed."
Dago's gray pupils contracted slightly. The mental power in his mind meshed like precise gears, calculating and constructing countless models of clashing with Michael.
The chief genius.
Isidore's Law Wielder inheritance.
It was a golden key to the gates of truth, enough to drive any seeker of knowledge mad.
To sit in that position, Michael was an obstructing mountain that had to be blown apart.
His gaze shifted, passing through layers of elemental glimmers before landing elsewhere.
Psychic Dawn, Gale.
And that uncomfortable rat in the gutter, Chaos Secret Society's Vicky.
He was not the only one watching. In this arena shrouded by the rules Isidore had left behind, every genius who