In the sky, six "Dawn Suns" each cast a beam of light, converging above the dueling arena into a gigantic, semi-transparent, colorful orb. The orb rotated, emitting a splendid and enchanting light, reflecting on the hundreds of quiet, upturned faces below.
"Hummm—"
Ancient syllables echoed from above, and the young wizards participating in this competition, emerging from various factions, seemed to receive a signal upon hearing this sound. They each forced out a trace of their soul power and sent it skyward.
Ronan did the same.
He had been informed beforehand that this was a necessary process.
The genius competition jointly hosted by the six major wizarding factions determined the ownership of two dawn-level artifacts and a world stone, necessitating guaranteed fairness.
Every participating wizard had to sign a simple soul contract, assuring that they would not use any means of "cheating."
The colorful orb absorbed the soul power of sixty wizards, with sixty strands of soul power swimming like fish within it.
Suddenly, two strands of soul power collided unexpectedly.
In an instant, two beams of light descended from the orb, enveloping two figures in the crowd below.
Then the second pair, the third pair...
"Hmm?!"
As the orb randomly selected the fourth pair of contestants, a deep red beam suddenly descended upon Ronan, enveloping him entirely.
The beam conveyed information about his opponent and the number of the duel platform.
Ronan was a bit surprised, not expecting to be called upon so quickly.
The wizards of the Silver Ring around him turned to look at him, most of them unfamiliar faces, yet conveying friendly and encouraging emotions.
"Platform Four, Black Swamp, Bartland Crow..."
Ronan took a deep breath, hesitated no longer, and activated his flight ring to soar to the fourth dueling platform.
His opponent ascended simultaneously from the other side of the platform.
Once both were in place, a simple rune formation arose, mirroring the scenes on the other three platforms.
Ronan sensed some of the audience's attention on him, primarily from the Silver Ring and Black Swamp directions.
A few gazes came from Molten Lake, but not many.
Among them, one look was sharp and intense, like a red-hot blade pressing against Ronan's forehead.
Ronan followed that gaze to see a tall young man with fiery orange hair coldly staring at him from a central position on the Molten Lake side.
The young man had eyes that resembled flowing magma, similar to Igor's, but far more powerful.
He sat like a lake of lava radiating terrifying heat, with no one daring to approach him. Just meeting his gaze from a distance caused the blood crystal in Ronan's heart to tremble slightly.
"Ignatius..."
Ronan silently mouthed the name, avoiding the undisguised hostile glare.
Igor wasn't at the competition, likely because of this man.
Ronan shifted his gaze slightly and soon locked eyes with another pair of remarkable eyes.
They were a deep wine-red, like ancient blood swirling in a vortex.
Their owner wore a mischievous smile, leaning lazily with a hand supporting his chin, watching Ronan with a playful expression.
Ronan immediately recognized the figure, his gaze turning icy.
Anglair.
Anglair Leo.
He had searched for Anglair before the competition but hadn't found him. Now, Anglair had stopped concealing his presence.
Ronan saw Anglair's lips, thin as blades, moving slightly as if silently speaking to him.
Frowning, Ronan tried to decipher it.
On the third attempt, he finally understood the lip movement: "Focus."
"Whoosh!"
A cold wind, stirred by dark magic, suddenly brushed Ronan's cheek, lifting the hem of his robe high.
Ronan snapped back to reality, realizing a dense shadow was already upon him.
His opponent, the Black Swamp wizard chosen by the orb, had been ignored since the start, and now, with a sullen expression, was coldly casting spells at Ronan.
"I should focus."
Ronan's gaze steadied, his blue eyes reflecting the black light ahead as he took a deep breath.
He then raised his hand, making a slow downward gesture.
In an instant, countless mysterious energies, accompanied by an indescribable, terrifying force field, exploded from Ronan's descending palm.
The wind whipped his robe, his silvery-white hair streaming backward.
"One-stage domain resonance."
"[Ice Blade Technique—Extreme Frozen Supreme Weapon]!"
At that moment, the attention of the audience, previously evenly distributed among the different dueling platforms, suddenly converged on him.
Many spectators trembled slightly, some even standing up.
While the battles on the other three platforms were still in the probing phase, no one expected the duel on the fourth platform to escalate into an unprecedented white-hot state.
The rune formation's barrier, more decorative than functional, shattered almost instantly.
If viewed from above, one would clearly see—
On the fourth platform, a bright, aurora-like cold current surged in all directions. A gigantic, seven-eight meter long pure white ice blade shattered the encroaching shadows, rising swiftly as if from an ancient icy seal. Countless terrifying icy blades crisscrossed, slicing the vast space of the platform into disarray.
Moments later.
Ronan calmly turned away, stepping off the platform under the gaze of a half-kneeling, frost-covered figure whose body trembled uncontrollably beneath their robes.
Compared to when he ascended, the attention on Ronan multiplied several times over.
While the other three duels continued, murmurs and discussions arose among the spectators.
"Silver Ring... Ronan... The genius who defeated the Sakiels family's Igor..."
People talked about Ronan's name and his past achievements on the second battlefield.
Ronan observed some individuals' reactions.
Jupiter of the Thunder Council remained calm on his silver throne, like a king, not sparing Ronan a glance.
Ignatius watched him with cold indifference, magma-colored eyes hinting at disdain.
Orion didn't look his way either; his focus was solely on Jupiter.
Only...
Anglair.
Anglair sat in a luxurious black high-backed chair, smiling brightly, clapping gently, even giving Ronan a thumbs-up.
"..."
Ronan's forehead twitched slightly, a strange irritation bubbling up inside him.
Do I need your approval?
He mentally grumbled but suddenly had a moment of clarity.
"Am I too fixated on Anglair?"
Since their reunion at White Stone Castle, Ronan felt his emotions were continually swayed by the name Anglair.
Because during his weaker days, Anglair left a deep "impression of strength" in his mind.
He had received "gifts" from Anglair, enabling him to step over the threshold of a first-level wizard.
Thus, he was eager to prove the worth of his efforts by defeating Anglair directly.
This was Ronan's "nightmare."
He never deliberately avoided it.
But now, Ronan realized he might be amplifying this "nightmare."
"If this trend continues, my chances against Anglair will keep diminishing."
"Perhaps that's what he wants."
Ronan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, thoughts swirling in his mind.
"What I've endured, what I've experienced, every bit is etched in memory, feeding back into strength, under my control."
"I don't need to prove anything to anyone."
"Anglair is just a part of my journey."
"I've seen, admired, approached, surpassed..."
"We have no deep-seated enmity."
"There's no need for such obsession."
At this moment, Ronan seemed to unlock something, cleansing some impurities from his soul.
When he reopened his eyes, he was completely relaxed.
He faced Anglair, nodding amicably across two dueling platforms in acknowledgment.
This caught Anglair off guard.
His expression briefly froze in surprise, seemingly unprepared for Ronan's gesture, before turning his deep gaze away half a breath later.
"Ha."
Ronan chuckled, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief.
"Is that the delicious fruit you mentioned?"
In the Black Swamp's spectator area, a seductive woman with cascading red hair withdrew her gaze from the Silver Ring, asking the laid-back man beside her with a peculiar expression.
"Indeed, impressive... At least in the same realm, no one in Black Swamp can match him."
"It's altered."
Anglair reclined in his chair, exuding an intense, indescribable malevolence.
He lazily examined his nails, seemingly finding them more interesting than anyone on the field.
"Slowly becoming less interesting... I preferred him when he was naive, pure, ignorant, and fearless."
The red-haired woman shook her head, seemingly exasperated by his capricious nature, but accustomed to it, she turned away, no longer watching him.
Anglair continued muttering to himself.
"Fortunately... it's just an optional appetizer. Whether it changes or not doesn't matter."
"The grand and delicious feast, the more exciting matters... are yet to come, aren't they?"
Anglair raised his hand, admiring the six "Dawn Suns" above, a smile playing on his lips as he silently appreciated his nails.
As if admiring a unique masterpiece of art.
No one noticed.
On his bloodless, pale nails, an extremely tiny pattern pulsed.
It was six overlapping rings.
The top three were beautiful and complete.
The bottom three... decayed and broken.
"Damien, you've grown stronger again."
Clemens approached, sitting beside Ronan, speaking in a complex, low voice.
He had watched Ronan's entire battle. His opponent, a late second-level Black Swamp wizard, though not a renowned figure, was undoubtedly a top ten talent in Black Swamp, capable of representing them in the competition.
Clemens estimated that if he faced the opponent, his chances of winning wouldn't exceed thirty percent.
Yet such a formidable figure hadn't even lasted a moment against Ronan.
That supreme ice blade, as if breaking free from an ancient ice seal, and the extraordinary domain power reaching a one-stage resonance... Ronan's true trump card, the seven-colored torrent domain power, and even more potent bloodline power, remained unseen.
Ronan could probably defeat him with a single move now.
How long had it been since their first encounter?
Clemens felt an inexplicable emotion rising within him. Only those who got close enough knew how terrifying the talent of this calm young man truly was!
"Did you tell the Ring Master about the Ancient Witch Resurrection Society?"
Ronan casually asked Clemens, his eyes focused on the field.
"I did. The Third and Fourth Ring Masters said they'd inform the other factions. An investigation should follow the competition."
Clemens thought for a moment, saying, "I messaged Bor to look up some records. The last time the Resurrection Society appeared in the south was over five hundred years ago, causing some turmoil but quickly subsiding. I think we might be overly cautious."
Clemens gazed up at the six "Dawn Suns" under the starry sky, sighing, "Under the light of dawn, such things hiding in the shadows would have little chance to wreak havoc."
Ronan nodded, saying nothing more.
The duels continued, one after another.
Ronan used this opportunity to observe the powerful figures from other factions, mainly the leading talents like Orion and Jupiter.
Molten Lake naturally had Ignatius, with the Ancient Inferno Blood.
In Black Swamp, Anglair Leo stood unrivaled, unmatched by anyone else.
In the Crimson Tower, a bloodline wizard named Rufus was the star.
With fair skin, unusually rosy and vibrant, and handsome features, his deep red hair flowed backward like flowing blood.
His eyes were peculiarly small, with sclera occupying most of the space, giving a bizarre appearance.
This person was extremely low-key, quietly sitting among the spectators since the start, never displaying any unique or prominent aura.
When his turn came, he effortlessly ended the match with the simplest bloodline spell.
But...
Ronan noticed that Jupiter, the "Monarch" of the Thunder Council, focused at least fifty percent of his attention on this young wizard named Rufus.
"The Crimson Tower is the only force among the six capable of rivaling the Thunder Council, a step above the other four. To occupy the top position in such a force, especially one famed for its brutal and fierce competition among black-robed blood wizards... This Rufus is certainly no simple character."
Ronan squinted, as if seeing through the crowd's noise to the crimson web-like veins behind Rufus, vaguely forming a menacing, ancient, evil pattern.