Leave a comment

Ignoring the comforting sensation at his back, Moore focused on the task at hand, drawing his weapon with determination.

“Waybreaker,” he whispered, invoking the name of his black longsword.

The sword responded with a slight tremor.

“I might need to push you to your limits,” Moore said, tightening his grip on the longsword.

Black starlight began to illuminate around him, flickering like distant stars. Suddenly, they shone as brightly as the sky, creating a vast starfield that isolated everything around them.

This was his imperfect domain, but it was different from Luna’s, which was less complete.

Though Moore’s imperfect domain was dimmer due to its lost power source, it was sufficient to shield against the flames.

With starlight cascading over the blade, Moore launched an attack at the sun.

The starbursts intertwined with his sword, transforming into a black crescent moon that cleaved the sun in two.

However, the sun, merely a dense flame, reacted like water to the sword’s slice. The lava-like flames quickly attempted to close the gap.

“Severance,” Moore declared quietly as he sheathed his sword.

From the cut, countless starbursts erupted, forming a dark, deep starfield that blocked the merging flames.

“Burst Magic is essentially condensing immense flames into a single point for explosive power. By preventing the flames from gathering, I can stop the magic from erupting.”

Before the longsword was completely sheathed, the intense heat caused Moore’s palms to sizzle. Undeterred and without showing pain on his face, he drew his sword again, striking thrice in rapid succession.

The sun, already halved, was further dissected. Unable to merge, it dwindled to giant fireballs, no, more like a few groups of burning embers.

The once-destructive sun finally showed its weakness. Its voracious consumption slowed, no longer devouring everything as fuel.

Moore’s lips curled into a relieved smile. The simplicity of his actions belied the immense risk he had taken. A slight miscalculation could have prematurely triggered the magic, potentially leading to their disqualification by the Immaculate Tree Domain.

“Myre, you’re up,” Moore said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back.

“Got it,” Myre murmured. She then released her hold and gracefully descended toward the figure beneath the sun.

“Calvin,” Moore called out loudly.

The golden light that had been enveloping him shifted, now cloaking Myre’s form as she fell.

“Hm?” Lilith, noticing Myre’s descent, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Are you planning to hit me with a sky-high palm strike?”

Myre, her palm outstretched toward Lilith, was not aiming for a physical attack. Instead, she unleashed a dazzling spell.

“Magic Disruption.”

The spell harmlessly passed through Lilith, leaving no mark, no pain—just a fleeting warmth. However, its true effect was far from benign.

This spell was one that would make any mage’s blood run cold with fear.

Magic Disruption, as its name suggested, could disrupt the flow of magic power within a person’s body.

When ordinary mages were struck by this spell, the consequences could be devastating. At its mildest, the spell caused turmoil within the mage’s magic power that could damage their meridians and cause internal injuries.

In more severe cases, the spell could drive a mage to the brink of madness, causing irreversible effects.

It was indeed an insidious move, yet the urgency of their situation left Moore with little choice.

“Don’t take this personally. You’re the one who left us with no other choice,” Myre whispered to Lilith, before quickly retreating after her spell took effect.

Lilith looked at Myre with a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Although the magic power within her body was chaotic and beyond her control, it only served as fuel for her dragon language magic.

Nevertheless, Myre’s Magic Disruption spell had worked on her. At least, it disrupted Lilith’s spell.

The once fearsome sun, now cut and weakened, lost its voracious appetite. Its once menacing flames scattered in all directions, resembling nothing more than brilliant, fleeting summer fireworks.

“Well, I guess it was a great fireworks show,” Lilith mused, her eyes catching the glimmer of the fading, red-hued light.

With her hands casually clasped behind her back, she appeared to be admiring the spectacle of the fiery sunset.

Then, amid the remnants of the fiery glow, a cold glint cut through the diminishing flames.

Mint emerged from the inferno with a sinister smile, his presence akin to a malevolent spirit returning from the depths of hell.

“I told you that you were going to regret this, little girl.”

“Why would I regret anything?” Lilith asked in amusement.

Mint scoffed in frustration. “Still acting tough, huh? You must be seething inside. We’ve figured out your trick, what else have you got left?”

Lilith simply shook her head and said, “I’m out of tricks.”

“Then prepare to meet your end!” Mint declared, transforming into a blur, too fast for the naked eye to follow, as he closed in on Lilith.

Lilith stood still, hands still behind her back. She did not even blink and looked like a statue frozen in time.

Mint was certain of his lethal strike. In that fleeting moment, he believed his spear had sliced through her vital artery.

She must have known that resistance was futile, so she made no attempts to evade him.

With his back facing her, Mint casually twirled his spear. Without looking back, he remarked, “I’ve always tried not to be too harsh with women. But you, you’re hardly a woman, with a chest flatter than mine.”

“……”

Detecting no movements from Lilith, Mint smiled wryly and added, “What a pity. I wanted to say this to your face, but my spear always outruns my words.”

“Don’t worry, you can say that again.”

“Oh yeah? Great… I still haven’t fully vented my frust…”

Mint’s triumphant demeanor faltered. The man who was usually as elusive as a shadow and as swift as the wind now stood rigid, like a stiff mannequin.

Struggling, he managed to turn his head slowly.

Behind him, Lilith stood with an air of playfulness. She had not moved from her spot at all, except that she was now facing him. Her gaze was teasing, almost mocking, as she looked at Mint.

As for his supposed lethal strike… it had left nothing but a faint white mark on Lilith’s delicate neck.

“H-How is this possible…”

This has to be an illusion… I must have missed my mark, yes! There’s no way someone could survive a direct hit from my spear with just a white mark on their neck! Calm down. This must be some illusion, a distraction from the enemy! I just need to refocus and strike again.

With this thought, Mint tightened his grip on the lance.

“Three times,” Lilith suddenly spoke up.
“What?”
“You’ve insulted my chest three times.”
“So? Am I not allowed to speak the truth?” Mint narrowed his eyes at her.
“……”

Lilith, with her hands still casually clasped behind her back, fixed her eyes on Mint. Her gaze was as cold and unyielding as a glacier.

“Three punches then,” she declared, extending three fingers to emphasize her point. “You’ve insulted me three times, so I’ll return those insults with three punches. Sounds fair, right?”

“Oh? You think you can take me down with just three punches? You think you’re a champion boxer or something?” Mint sneered coldly.

“You can be my gue…” Before Mint could finish speaking, Lilith vanished from his sight.

“WHAT?”

Startled, Mint’s instincts kicked in, and he held his spear in front of him defensively.

A force, as heavy as the weight of a mountain, pressed down on the spear. Mint bent under the pressure, his trusty spear emitting a metallic groan.

Looking down, he saw Lilith, who had reappeared right in front of him, lightly touching the lance with just one finger, causing it to bend and his hands to tremble.

Lilith then looked up, her face wearing an innocent, almost playful smile.

“This is the first punch,” she announced, her fingers curling into a fist.

She parted her feet, assuming her usual boxing stance.