Chapter 65: Duel

The youth’s voice was not loud, but it carried perfectly to the ears covered by the other’s green robe of magic… He immediately saw the kaleidoscope of changes on the other’s deeply featured face.

“What did you say?” Corne Best’s voice carried a loud grinding of teeth, but the hateful youth in the black robe seemed not to hear it at all. Wearing a nasty smile, he shifted his gaze to the apprentices behind Corne.

Constantine had no intention of being polite to this sort of person—although in some ways, the youth had a good temper. He often thought about matters from their roots, rarely using methods like overpowering others with his influence to avoid overly intense conflicts. But that did not mean he would not overpower others or lose his temper.

If Christine had made such a request, Constantine’s reaction would mostly have been to laugh it off… After all, that girl had done long-term research on this project and had some practical experience. Moreover, she was the first person to enter the manned aircraft with him. Constantine had even extorted many magic items from her. More importantly, she was a beautiful girl with an ambiguous relationship with him. Giving the manufacturing rights for a small hot air balloon was no big deal.

But this guy in front of him… Constantine’s gaze calmly swept over the face under the hood, which was a mix of shock and fury… He did not hide the disdain on his own face at all.

What kind of thing are you? Coming here and putting on an air of seniority, just because you are a formal mage, you want absolute control? Did that tall aquiline nose make your brain degenerate to the level of a bird? To put it nicely, this behavior is about being competitive and trying to steal others’ research results. To put it bluntly, it’s disobeying the nation’s supreme authority and looking down on leadership… Just because you are capable, you think you should be in charge? In terms of qualifications as a shut-in, who’s afraid of you?

At worst, we can just split up. At most, I’ll talk to Nikolai about it and get someone else to replace you. Even if things become absolutely desperate, I’ll find people myself. Do you think I need a few rotten roots and green-barked trees like you? That old guy, Vernal, has been having a blast playing with sky lanterns in his lab. If I said I wanted to make a big one with him, he’d be more than happy to cooperate with me!

“Viscount Constantine…” Seeing the youth’s gaze fall upon him, Thaddeus Odori gave a slight bow. His appearance was as sunny as ever, though the lazy smile on his face was a bit forced.

Intentionally or not, this mage apprentice raised his voice. This subtle reminder clearly had some effect. Mage Corne took a few heavy breaths, finally refraining from uttering any more words unbecoming of his status. He simply swept a murderous glance over the smiling youth in front of him, turned, and walked toward the experiment table. With a wave of his hand, he transformed the simple seat at the head of the table into a beautiful high-backed chair. He sat down heavily, stewing in his anger.

This series of actions, however, made him fail to notice the glint of malicious light in Constantine’s narrowed eyes.

If he wanted to pursue the power that would allow him to live freely, Constantine would have to spend a lot of time in the world of magic. With the king’s decree, it would be best to gather a group of companions who were more in tune with him. But if there was a strong, discordant note in his small team, then all this would become meaningless… And this formal mage in front of him was undoubtedly the worst possible situation.

It seemed that currently, in the mage tower, no one was very friendly toward him. So, whether it was to warn others by making an example or to kill a chicken to scare the monkeys, he needed to demonstrate his authority? The youth’s heart had already begun considering the feasibility of teaching this aquiline-nosed fellow a lesson.

“This is the design for the aircraft I tried to create according to His Majesty’s requirements. Everyone, please take a look…”

Clearing his throat, Constantine threw a stack of parchment onto the table. He was satisfied to see varying degrees of shock and confusion on everyone’s faces—the parchment contained the rough sketches he had drawn yesterday. However, the design on it was not a simple hot air balloon, but a true airship. According to his memory, this thick cigar-shaped aircraft was over one hundred and fifty feet long and thirty feet in diameter. Although it was just a small-scale plaything compared to what he remembered, on this continent without any industry to speak of, it could be considered a true behemoth.

Considering the possible uses the emperor might have for it, the airship used a semi-rigid mode. It mainly maintained its shape through the gas pressure inside the balloon, but some rigid keels provided auxiliary support. The heating system composed of small magic circles was divided into several groups for placement. The balloon was also divided into two groups. Ideas for fire prevention were also proposed to avoid the embarrassment caused by the previous explosion.

The lift provided by a hot air airship was really limited. If possible, Constantine’s preference would naturally be a light gas airship… But unfortunately, he was not that kind of all-rounder transmigrating prodigy. High-tech stuff like helium was completely out of the question. As for hydrogen… although it could be obtained simply by electrolyzing water… this unsafe gas was directly placed by the youth into the category of not being considered. He did not want to create a huge, expensive firework—that kind of honor belonged solely to Old Luo.

“A perfect concept… I have nothing to add.”

Thaddeus let out a soft sigh, breaking the silence first. This high-level apprentice, who was about to advance to a formal mage, held the last sheet of the drawing, looking at Constantine with reverence—even though the other was just a youth several years younger than him.

On these ordinary sheets of parchment, the ideas outlined in common ink were so strange and perfect that they could be described as prodigious. He could even imagine that huge airship flying in the sky, and he could envision the incredibly brilliant future of the youth who invented this magical artifact. This caused an immense conflict in the sunny youth’s heart… Of course, Thaddeus, coming from a wealthy merchant family, did not envy the talent of those more excellent than him. His father, who had become a tycoon, had long told him that the reason so many beings existed in the world was that no being could surpass all others in perfection, not even the lofty deities. Therefore, being able to cooperate with an excellent individual was also a fortunate thing.

Only, if given a choice, he undoubtedly would have wanted the dream depicted on the drawing to be perfectly realized—unfortunately, the Master of the Arcane Arts, Boccob, did not seem to have heard the prayers of this young believer, nor given him any choice.

The depressed Thaddeus glanced at the tutor Corne Best, who was still stewing in his chair. Without a doubt, this talent who had attained the status of a junior mage at seventeen, having touched the seventh layer of the weave of magic in just ten years, possessed ample strength—legend said that with a bit more tempering over time, he could become one of the few in the mage tower to possess the Rainbow Dragon Badge.

But why couldn’t these two outstanding existences tolerate each other?

Of course they couldn’t tolerate each other!

This shouldn’t be the case. This must be a conspiracy! A conspiracy created by the nobles, led by the emperor, to suppress the mages! How could someone his age propose such a perfect concept? That must have been completed by some mage the emperor recruited from somewhere, and he deliberately had this youth announce it!

From the moment he saw those drawings, Corne Best had already made this assumption in his heart, making the flames of anger within him burn even higher.

How could he tolerate all this? Creating magical artifacts that could fly in the sky was one of the goals most alchemists worked toward. Legend said that mages had even once made entire cities fly in the sky. In that dream-like era, mages represented omnipotence. But now, this had become a dream. Countless alchemists tried to make ships driven by magic power fly in the air again, only to end in failure. Who would have thought that this dream would be realized in the hands of a youth not even fourteen years old?

He was not unable to accept seeing this dream realized before his eyes, but it shouldn’t be this person! The mage glared at the little brat with that idiot smile on his face… It could have been a genius girl like Christine, it could have been a madman like Vernal, it could even have been any colleague in the mage tower who possessed a mage badge—but this little bastard…

And… he wasn’t even a mage, just a sorcerer who relied on his innate, pitifully meager ability to show off! The inventor of the airship—how did he deserve such a magnificent crown?

“Constantine, from what I know, your ability awakened not long ago, and you haven’t undergone systematic magical study before… So I’d really like to know, without anyone’s help, how exactly did you complete this multifaceted design?” Suppressing the anger in his heart, he asked the question: “Or rather… is the concept of this magical artifact really something you conceived?”

“Cheney, you know? The guard dog at my mansion that watches the chicken coop always likes to bark loudly whenever it sees eggs laid by the hens… Even though it could never produce half an egg itself. The nature of animals is truly amazing, isn’t it?”

Clearly, Constantine had no interest in dealing with this guy’s provocation. Turning his gaze to the cowering cleaning apprentice, the youth who had never intended to endure it all from the start just softly muttered a sarcastic retort.

“You… bastard! I challenge you to a duel in my capacity as a mage!”

The last bit of the mage’s rationality was blasted to the far heavens by this vicious taunt. He stood up with a start, the magnificent high-backed chair toppled over by the motion, crashing onto the smooth stone floor of the laboratory with a thunderous boom!

The echo reverberated, lingering on and on…

The sound seemed like a magical curse, causing all the apprentices present, except Constantine, to fall into instant stupefaction!

Thaddeus, the first to react, painfully clutched his head… Mage Corne Best, what on earth are you thinking… Could it be that the servants responsible for meals threw parsley or jawbone grass into this morning’s pumpkin soup? Otherwise, how could the mage make such a foolish judgment?

This youth before you is not some apprentice you can deal with arbitrarily just using your status as a mage…

The eldest legitimate son of the Connallyvis Family, recently granted the title of first-rank viscount by the emperor, plus his special relationship with Archmage Vernal—even Archmage Nikolai regarded him with special attention. If a real conflict arose, the one to suffer definitely wouldn’t be him. Even disregarding these statuses… a formal mage dueling a sorcerer apprentice? Winning was only to be expected, with no room for boasting… If he lost, a lifetime’s reputation would likely flow away like water… Such tragedies had occurred before. Mage Purness had now almost disappeared from the mage tower.

“Hmm… great… kill him!” The soft whisper by his ear brought Thaddeus back to some clarity—

If there was someone excited right now, it had to be Billy Talbot… During previous research, he had already disliked Constantine. Just a sorcerer, relying on some innate ability to steal power from the weave of magic—are noble offspring so amazing? The status of mages had always been above that of nobles. Even a magic apprentice like himself could obtain a respectable noble title. And in the eyes of formal mages, those things were like dirt. The excitement in the chestnut-haired youth’s eyes almost became tangible. If gazes could generate attack power, then without his tutor taking action, that look alone would be enough to melt Constantine!

Looking at the excited, almost ferocious expression on his friend’s face, Thaddeus could only sigh inwardly…

No wonder they could become master and student… This guy and Mage Corne Best had tempers carved from the same mold—liking directness, disliking tedious, unresolved entanglements. In their hearts, any matter could be settled directly by action. Whoever had the bigger fist was right. Just like that. Such a character might suit mages specializing in the school of evocation, but both of these two had instead chosen the school of transmutation.

“In that case… If you two don’t mind, could I have the honor of being the witness for your duel?” If it couldn’t be avoided, then minimize the damage… The merchant’s son stood up, having made up his mind. “If there are no objections, then please both move to the mage dueling arena…”

Within the empire, a knight could freely challenge any warrior he deemed not in accordance with knightly spirit. This was legal and written into the knight’s code, even vigorously promoted in some places.

But this did not apply to mages.

Magic was not an art invented specifically for killing, but it was undeniable that killing was one of magic’s greatest uses. The higher the spellcaster, the more powerful the magic, the stronger its killing effect. Sparring between practitioners also became more dangerous. A single careless moment could lead to death, beyond even divine power’s salvation. As a scarce resource, the empire naturally would not allow mages to be wasted in such pointless conflicts of pride. Nor would it allow them to casually slaughter those without supernatural powers.

However, after all, things depended on human effort.

Duels between mages still occurred under various circumstances. Apart from those hidden in the shadows, most mages had more civilized, restrained duels. Battles between spellcasters mastering high-level spells were conducted through other means…

…

The arc of teleportation gradually faded. Constantine and Corne Best now each stood in a huge space.

A dim hall. The windowless and doorless space made of bluestone felt somewhat oppressive. Only the floating magical light globes high in the ceiling provided a pale blue-white glow.

This was the dueling arena within the mage tower. It was enveloped by powerful magical barriers. Within this range, “death” would not occur. Any originally fatal attacks and injuries would automatically be blocked and changed into a “stasis” effect. For example, if Constantine used a drawn-sword technique to cut off the other’s neck, normally the head would fly off and the person would die… But within this barrier, he would only be firmly fixed in place, unable to move, unable to chant spells, unable to continue fighting, but also not subject to further attacks, directly judged as having lost. Moreover, after the outcome was decided, this magical barrier could automatically heal the injured, applying various powerful divine magics. Even if you were originally on the brink of death, as long as you hadn’t breathed your last, you were guaranteed to be saved.

This actually couldn’t be considered a real duel anymore, but more of a sparring match in the form of a competition. Its rules were quite detailed, needing to be held within a special magic array. Assistance from magical equipment like staves, scrolls, and potions was prohibited. The threat from magic would also dissipate without a trace, only determining whether the opponent would be harmed. It bore some resemblance to the sportification of certain martial arts.

“Damned brat!”

The mage, with eyes completely bloodshot, cursed, then began chanting an incantation. He stepped back, the spell flowing smoothly and fluently like a gushing spring—clearly, he had put in considerable hard work.

Not far away, facing him, Constantine’s tactics were unusually simple. He casually drew a symbol in the air, but before the glowing runic trajectory faded, the youth had already charged forward fiercely!

The blade drew a crescent flash in the air, pointing directly at the mage whose movements had suddenly slowed!

Just as the blade was about to strike, Constantine felt his scimitar suddenly cut into a huge block of butter, involuntarily veering off to the side.

But this attack undoubtedly gave the mage a scare. He dodged sideways, but the scimitar still tore a long gash in his robe of magic at the shoulder. Meanwhile, the opponent’s attack did not stop. The youth’s foot followed closely. However, the defensive spell the mage had cast at some unknown time was clearly quite effective. The kick felt like it landed on a pile of cotton. The force it carried only made the mage stumble.

Being able to become a formal mage, Corne Best did possess considerable ability. Neither the earlier scimitar strike nor the foot’s impact had interrupted this formal mage’s chanting!