Theresa looked out the window in the direction Oedipus pointed. Below the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dozens of feet tall building, there were two figures, one red and one white, confronting each other. "I believe the most fair and clear view of the match can be seen from the Necropolis called Acadia," Theresa said. The Necropolis was built next to the duel arena, with the intention that future generations could observe the mastery of magic in their own generation closely. "Theresa, who do you think will win, Turing or An?" Oedipus shook his pipe hand, slightly shook off the ashes, and let the white smoke leak out of the bowl. Theresa breathed a sigh of relief and said, "In my opinion, the probability is probably 80 to 20." Perhaps to make up for her previous impoliteness of not speaking about the matter, Theresa made this second answer complete and organized. "I've also watched Prince An's previous matches. Although she only knows some common magic of the common people, she uses them solidly and maturely. Not only have some ordinary magic become more powerful in her hands, but the timing of her usage is also spot-on. Even if it's the Young Master, he won't easily win against an opponent like An," Theresa said. Oedipus's smile became even richer as he spoke, saying, "So I'm telling you, you still don't understand that child enough. The probability of Turing losing is less than one in a hundred thousand.”
"What? Where are you going?" Turing, with his faint dark circles under his eyes, closely stared at Prince An, who was covered in scorch marks and disheveled. "Why don't you attack me?" Turing waved his hand, and the flame spirits in the sky condensed and rushed towards An. "Tsk." An's magician hands emerged like a pair of wings from behind him. She rolled and crawled, barely escaping the pillar of fire that Turing had unleashed. Faster, faster. "Different winds in ten miles." "Wind rope." An's three green invisible chains hooked onto the damaged weapons at the edge of the arena. With the tremendous force of the ropes, An was pulled far away from Turing while the weapons were pulled off the ground and hurled fiercely at Turing. "Such a pity, just a little bit off." Turing didn't even use magic. He leaned his body slightly, and the sword flew past his body. But An was not discouraged by this. She started to run around the field, and the magician hands behind her kept picking up weapons from the ground and throwing them at Turing- although none hit, the power was staggering. "Diana, I say, isn't there something strange here?" In the audience seats, in the front row of the VIP seats, Micelle Society (Raphael's sister) was whispering to Diana. "There is indeed a problem. Turing never used magic before... If she didn't want to cause trouble, she could easily use some small magic to avoid our teasing. There was no need to not fight back even when we bullied her so much," Micelle said. "I think she wants to reserve her strength," Diana said. "No, no, I'm not saying that there's something strange here," Micelle smiled awkwardly. "Then what do you mean?" Diana turned her head towards Micelle in confusion. "I mean her ring. It's fine if she wears it on her ring finger... but it looks like a glass ring. When did The Altria Family's taste become so poor?" "A glass ring... how did you know? You could see it from so far away?" Diana asked. "Hmm... I noticed it during the last exam when she ran out of the warehouse. It left a deep impression on me, so I noticed it," Micelle explained. "Look," Micelle raised her right hand, presenting a platinum ring with diamond chips that shone with colorful light. "Isn't it vastly different from hers?" "Ah... I'm not sure, I've never worn anything like that," Diana said. "When did she start wearing it... damn, I can't remember," Diana bit her finger and fell into contemplation.Perhaps sensing the relentless barrage of weapons being thrown at him, Turing suddenly changed his strategy.
While he continued to bombard An with magic, he also extended the hand of a mage from behind to catch the projectiles thrown at him and placed them beside himself - to prevent An from reusing the weapons that he had dodged.
Gradually, the weapons piled up around Turing, and the remnants of swords and daggers from the entire arena were gathered beside him.
"Hmm?" Turing sensed something unusual.
[What is this? Did she throw this sword along with the other weapons?] A slightly intact sword, with a slightly different color than the others, was stuck in the ground.
[An aluminum sword?] Turing furrowed his small brow.
"Ah!" An exclaimed, as a large fireball followed by a prominent test tube containing red solids flew towards her.
Turing's pupils contracted. The mage's hand behind him transformed into wings made of intertwined lines, and his body leaped out of the water like a fish.
"Boom!" A violent explosion erupted beneath Turing's feet as defiant, rolling, and bright red sparks instantly blossomed.
[An aluminum thermite reaction? Was the red reagent earlier red phosphorus...] Before Turing could react, a magnificent figure entangled with lines of blue wings appeared before his eyes.
"Go down." An firmly grabbed Turing's collar, and a surge of fierce magic erupted around her.
[Do you want to interfere with my magic wings? I won't let you succeed.] Turing also released his magic, spreading it out. Instantly, a competition of magic control began, and both of them began to feel a bit shaky in the air.
Seeing An gradually struggling to maintain her form, Turing reached out and grabbed her. Turing's hand radiated a strong heat, forcing An to release her grip and severing their connection.
[Let her fall into the molten iron herself.]
[?]
An quickly stabilized her form, while Turing's wings, which were already somewhat ethereal, dissipated completely.
Amidst the turmoil of molten iron, Turing plummeted downwards.
[Did I actually lose in a competition of magic control?]
Watching Turing fall into the molten iron, An landed outside the zone of heated currents with stability. Without any intention of stopping her pursuit, An dramatically puffed out her chest.
"Inferno breath," although Inferno was a basic elementary spell, what made it formidable was its sheer simplicity and minimal incantation. Its power mainly depended on the magical reserves of the caster, making it a common subject tested during exams.
"Inferno breath." With a deep nasal sound, a majestic blaze surged forth from An's mouth, alarming the entire arena with this astonishing phenomenon. Turing's figure became increasingly faint within this sea of fire until he gradually disappeared.
"That should be the end..." An said.
But reality didn't see it that way.
Out of nowhere, a whistling wind cut across An's face like lightning.
Unbelievable voices came from behind An, and a faint deep red gradually emerged from the hazy ash.
As fierce as the morning sun, as dense as the sunset.
[Heart of the Furnace.]
A grotesque mask, identical to Raphael's, appeared on Turing's face. Unlike Raphael, however, Turing was not only wearing a mask but also covered entirely with an armor-like mixture of mud and rock.
Turing appeared both fiery red and terrifying. At this moment, Turing had completely transformed into something entirely different from before.
Something without nails, without hair, without a chest, without lovely skin, and beautiful features.
Something heavy and powerful, as fast as lightning, impenetrable by blades and guns, easily rendering opponents helpless.
Is this what a devil looks like?
In the midst of Prince An's stunned silence, the devil spoke:
"Surely, you can handle what's to come, right?"A terrifying, indescribable, inexplicable energy force, a million times more horrifying than the devil's appearance at that moment; or, a vortex -- solidified in the devil's lightly-held hand.
"Incandescent spiral."
Twist, twist, twist, the world twisted into a ball.
A spearhead spiraling, burning, gradually appeared in the devil's hand.
"What... what is that?" An, although he had long abandoned thoughts of life and death, was still so scared by this unbelievable sight that he couldn't speak fluently.
With a roar from the devil, the spear shot through the air like lightning in the hands of a god, turning the entire arena into an ocean of light.
As for what happened to Prince An afterward, the audience had forgotten.
The only thing they remembered was the scene they would never forget in their lifetime.
The once-timeless magical arena was marked with deep and magnificent spiral cracks.
