The clamor within the Dueling Arena faded like a receding tide.
More and more seats in the spectator stands emptied, leaving only sporadic murmurs echoing under the dome.
Many witches were in no hurry to leave; they gathered in small groups, gesturing excitedly and passionately discussing the heart-stopping duel just witnessed—Olivia’s thunderous finishing blow and the unwilling look in Samotush’s eyes before her defeat had become prime topics of conversation.
Yet, at the center of this lingering cacophony, Olivia seemed to exist in another world.
She stood alone in the middle of the arena, her feet on ground pitted and scarred by magical bombardment.
This newly victorious champion did not strike a boastful pose, nor did she bask in the adoring cheers of the crowd.
Olivia simply lowered her head, took a snow-white handkerchief from her waist, and meticulously wiped the blood from the knuckle-dusters on her right hand.
The blood from Samotush had not yet dried; the sunlight gave it a dark red sheen.
Olivia’s movements were light, deliberate, as if she were polishing not a weapon but a precious piece of art.
Her expression was detached and focused, her brilliant golden vertical pupils reflecting the handkerchief’s pure white.
The victory had brought her no joy, only a familiar weariness and calm.
“Come, students, let’s go see Olivia.”
Shirley straightened her wind-tousled scholar’s robe and led Tunzuo, Sally, and Huli down the steps from the spectator stands.
hey wove through the thinning crowd toward Olivia, who stood at the arena’s center.
Olivia seemed to have sensed their approach long ago.
She looked up, and the coldness in her golden vertical pupils instantly melted upon seeing Shirley, replaced by a warmth as gentle as a spring breeze.
“Teacher Shirley, it’s been a long time.”
Olivia put away the handkerchief and strode forward.
She gave a slight bow, performing a standard witch’s greeting, her tone filled with the joy of seeing her mentor again.
“Yes, it has been a long time, Olivia.”
Shirley pushed up her glasses with a smile, her gaze carefully appraising Olivia, a mix of relief and concern in her eyes.
“How have you been these past few years? I heard you’ve been staying at the academy…”
“Same as always. Studying, dueling, occasionally teasing some cute junior students.”
Olivia shrugged, her tone light, as if her life were perfectly comfortable and fulfilling.
The two witches reminisced about their past teacher-student relationship, recalling those carefree days at Capital Academy.
The atmosphere was warm and harmonious.
Olivia still remembered the scenes of Shirley patiently teaching her the basics of magic; that kindness was something she had never forgotten.
After the small talk, the smile on Shirley’s face faded slightly.
She adjusted her glasses again, her tone becoming hesitant, even a little cautious.
“That… Olivia, your body… is it still the same as before?”
Before Shirley could finish, the smile on Olivia’s face dimmed.
She raised a hand gently, cutting off Shirley’s next question.
A flicker of imperceptible loneliness passed through her golden pupils, quickly replaced by an unshakable calm.
“Teacher, I’m used to it. Just minor issues. They’re not enough to stop my progress.”
Olivia’s voice was calm and firm, as if stating a fact unrelated to herself.
Seeing Olivia’s reluctance to elaborate, Shirley tactfully dropped the subject.
She sighed softly, then turned to introduce her three students.
“These three are my current students. Sally, Huli, and Tunzuo.”
“Lady Olivia!”
Seeing Shirley introduce them, Sally and Huli instantly grew excited.
Sally shot forward like a lit firecracker, hands clasping her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with adoration.
“I’m your super fan! I’ve watched every one of your matches! That final punch was so cool!”
Huli, though not as exuberant as Sally, blushed and hugged her teddy bear tightly, whispering.
“Lady Olivia… please… may I have your autograph?”
Looking at her two enthusiastic little fans, Olivia smiled wryly.
She took the banner Sally offered and the notebook Huli handed over, signing her strong, vigorous signature on each.
“Thank you for your support.”
Olivia gently patted Sally and Huli on the head.
Then, her gaze moved past them, landing precisely on Tunzuo, who stood at the back of the group, looking utterly disinterested.
Tunzuo had her hands stuffed in the pockets of her gothic dress, head lowered, absentmindedly kicking small pebbles on the ground with the tip of her shoe.
Her whole demeanor screamed “Where am I?
Who am I?
What am I doing here?”—a picture of lazy apathy, clearly having zero interest in the celebrated star before her.
At that moment, Olivia’s eyes lit up slightly.
She strode forward, walking straight up to Tunzuo.
Tunzuo was yawning boredly, staring at her toes in a daze, when a shadow suddenly fell over her.
She looked up, meeting Olivia’s intense, brilliant golden vertical pupils.
“Hello.”
Olivia extended a hand toward Tunzuo, her voice low and magnetic.
“My name is Olivia. I noticed you in the stands earlier. You have a very unique aura… like a black rose blooming alone in the abyss. I’m quite interested in you and would like to get to know you.”
Tunzuo was momentarily stunned by this sudden approach, then her mouth twitched.
‘Smooth talker…’
She muttered under her breath, a wave of disgust washing over her at this kind of ‘popular person’ speech.
Out of politeness, however, Tunzuo extended her own pale, cold hand.
But the moment their palms touched, Tunzuo’s brow furrowed slightly.
Olivia’s hand was hot.
Scorching hot.
That temperature didn’t feel like normal body heat; it was more like a burning fire contained beneath the skin.
To put it bluntly, it was as if Olivia’s veins flowed not with blood, but with molten lava.
This caused Tunzuo, a ghost witch, some discomfort, even giving her the illusion of being burned.
Tunzuo quickly pulled her hand back, subtly wiping it on her dress, a trace of distaste flashing across her pretty face.
Olivia looked at her now-empty hand, not angry but instead wearing an intrigued smile.
She withdrew her hand, her gaze sweeping over Shirley’s three students, her smile fading.
“Since Teacher Shirley brought you, it’s only right I do my part. How about this—I’ll give you some practical combat guidance.”
Olivia clapped her hands, signaling everyone to follow.
She led Tunzuo and the others to an open area at the edge of the arena.
“Ten minutes per witch. Timed by the hourglass.”
Olivia pointed to a Magic Hourglass nearby, then turned her gaze to Sally.
“You first, little kitten.”
“Yes! Lady Olivia!”
Sally jumped up excitedly, her figure flashing as she charged at Olivia.
Sally’s speed was indeed fast, her agility high.
She left afterimages in the air, her movements nimble as a cat.
Olivia stood her ground, raising her hands to block.
But after just five minutes, Sally landed back on the ground, panting heavily, sweat beading on her forehead.
Her mana consumption was too rapid; her stamina was clearly insufficient.
“Good speed, but poor endurance.”
Olivia pinpointed Sally’s flaw with surgical precision.
“Your mana output efficiency is too low. Most of your mana is wasted on unnecessary acceleration and direction changes. You need to learn to control your rhythm. Don’t just chase speed. Conserving stamina is key for prolonged battles.”
Sally nodded seriously, committing Olivia’s advice to heart.
Next was Huli.
Huli’s mana reserves were ample, but she disliked moving.
She stood in one spot, refusing to budge, only passively releasing defensive barriers.
“Your mana reserves are quite good, but your dislike for movement is a serious drawback.”
Olivia looked at Huli’s clueless expression, a flicker of helplessness in her eyes.
“But since you don’t like to move, perhaps you should develop directly toward area-of-effect spells. Use your mana advantage to construct defensive positions, force enemies into your rhythm, and wait at your ease while they tire themselves out.”
Huli blinked, seeming to think Olivia’s suggestion suited her well, and nodded silently.
When it was finally Tunzuo’s turn, she seemed rather reluctant.
“Um… I’ll pass, okay?”
Tunzuo clasped her hands behind her back, leaning away, her face full of resistance.
“My exercise quota for the day is already exceeded. And I don’t think I need any guidance. I’m just a lazy fish who likes to sleep…”
Tunzuo made all sorts of excuses, using every reason to avoid fighting Olivia or receiving her instruction.
Tunzuo’s behavior made Olivia frown slightly.
Looking at Tunzuo’s lazy demeanor, a flash of displeasure crossed her eyes.
As a combat-focused witch, Olivia despised this kind of attitude that showed no reverence for battle.
Meanwhile, Samotush, having finished bandaging her wounds at the Infirmary, walked up to the spectator stands.
A golden-haired, red-eyed witch holding a rose-patterned parasol was waiting for her.
Her name was Anne, a vampire witch and Samotush’s best friend.
“It seems our Hellhound lost to the Golden Dragon again~”
Anne looked at Samotush’s disheveled state, her tone teasing but laced with a barely perceptible hint of heartache.
“Hmph, next time I’ll definitely win! Ouch—that Olivia still hits just as hard… Hey, what’s that golden-haired dragon doing now?”
Samotush pouted unhappily, her expression resentful as she glanced down at the arena, asking Anne.
“Seems to be instructing some young witches in combat techniques. Look, that little dark-haired one doesn’t seem very willing.”
Anne pointed downward. Olivia stood in an open area, seemingly talking to Tunzuo.
“Tch, same as always. That Olivia, always up to her tricks of deceiving naive little witches, playing the role of the understanding big sister. Anne, keep an eye out. When she’s done, I’m challenging her to another three hundred rounds.”
Samotush grumbled as she sat down in the stands, apparently planning to wait for Olivia to finish before having a proper argument with her.
Back on the arena grounds, Tunzuo, without another word, prepared to pull Shirley and the others away.
Just then, Olivia’s voice suddenly rang out behind her.
The voice was no longer gentle; it held a hint of coldness and severity, striking Tunzuo’s ears like a thunderclap.
“If a witch evades battle, it’s difficult for her to make progress. Because that is a sign of cowardice. I hope you understand this, Tunzuo.”
Olivia stared at Tunzuo’s back, speaking slowly. Each word she uttered felt like a steel nail driven forcefully into the air.
Cowardice.
That word instantly halted Tunzuo in her tracks. Time seemed to freeze.
The word ‘cowardice’ was like a poison-tipped sword, piercing Tunzuo’s heart with perfect accuracy.
It tore through the lazy facade she used to cover her shame, striking directly at the deepest pain within her.
Tunzuo slowly turned her head.
The lazy, drowsy pupils that usually held a sense of lethargy were now devoid of their former indolence.
In their place was a chilling, icy coldness.
Tunzuo looked at Olivia with eyes as cold as if viewing a corpse.
Tunzuo was lazy.
She lacked ambition.
She disliked socializing and dealing with other witches.
But Tunzuo had her own bottom line.
She absolutely would not allow anyone to call her a coward again!
Her cowardice had been killed by Antuxi!
Killed during those five years of hellish training, in those countless struggles on the brink of death, in that endless sea of tears and pain.
The word ‘cowardice’ had long been scraped from her dictionary with a sword, buried along with her former weak self!
Tunzuo would never allow anyone to deny all she had fought through! Never allow anyone to define her with that word again!
“Heh heh heh…”
A cold laugh echoed in the arena.
Tunzuo turned fully, her gaze fixed icily on Olivia.
There was no warmth in her eyes, only a bone-chilling frigidity.
“Since you want to fight, then let’s have a proper match.”
With that, Tunzuo turned and walked toward the center of the arena.
Each step she took was steady.
The ground beneath her feet was no longer solid earth, but the chests of her enemies.
Every step carried a heavy, oppressive weight.
Seeing Tunzuo finally willing to accept instruction, Olivia nodded in satisfaction.
She too walked toward the arena’s center, a flicker of anticipation in her eyes, wanting to see just what this interesting little one was capable of.
Tunzuo and Olivia stood on opposite sides of the arena.
The hourglass was inverted, golden sand grains beginning their slow descent, marking the start of this impromptu duel.
Olivia stood in place, hands behind her back, assuming no defensive stance.
She did not take Tunzuo seriously; she merely wanted to gauge Tunzuo’s potential and teach her a small lesson.
But at that moment, an astonishing aura of killing intent surged from across the arena.
It wasn’t the mana fluctuations typical of a witch’s combat.
It was a pure, unadulterated aura of slaughter, as if from a demon of the abyss intent on devouring all living things.
The intensity of that killing intent was so thick it seemed to solidify the surrounding air.
A profound sense of crisis sharpened Olivia’s gaze.
Her instincts screamed danger.
She hastily sidestepped to evade, but she was still a fraction too slow.
A flash of silver light, swift as lightning, sharp as a blade’s edge.
Sssshhk—
A faint sound of tearing fabric.
A bloody gash appeared on Olivia’s handsome, cold face.
Blood trickled down her cheek, dripping onto the ground, blooming into a grotesquely beautiful crimson flower.
This sudden turn of events left every witch present utterly unprepared.
Shirley, Sally, and Huli covered their mouths in shock, unable to believe what they were seeing.
That was Olivia!
The strongest witch of the younger generation!
She had actually been injured by Tunzuo?!
Samotush and Anne, equally stunned, rushed to the edge of the spectator stands.
Samotush’s eyes widened in disbelief as she shouted.
“Hey, no way… that little one…”
The remaining spectators who hadn’t left yet also stopped, turning to look at the arena’s center, their eyes filled with incredulity.
A storm of shock and gravity surged in Olivia’s eyes.
She reached up, touching the bloody mark on her face, then turned to look at Tunzuo, who stood behind her, casually flicking her sword.
Tunzuo held the silver sword drawn from Huanye, its blade emitting a cold gleam.
Olivia’s golden blood slid down the edge of the blade, shimmering under the sunlight.
Tunzuo tilted her head, a manic smile spreading across her face.
The soul-fire in her pupils blazed fiercely.
Her icy voice hissed out like a venomous snake’s tongue.
“Ready to bleed, superstar?”