On the first floor, Ammalia Cassalanter's bulky body wobbled, and finally she couldn't hold out any longer—she collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Her face flushed crimson as she strained desperately, finally coughing up a thick wad of phlegm.
Her airway finally cleared, she squeezed out a few shaky breaths, halfway regaining the ability to speak. Glaring up at Sephera on the second floor—who wore a cold, mocking smile—Ammalia's voice trembled with both terror and rage: "You little wretch, what did you do to me?!"
Sephera just shrugged. "Obviously, the same thing you were planning to do to us. What do you think? My poison's leagues nastier than yours, isn't it?"
She couldn't hold back anymore—clutching her stomach, she burst out laughing. "Hahahaha, idiot! You think I chatted with you so long for no reason? You really thought I didn't know exactly what you were trying to pull?"
"I was just waiting for my poison to hit. I can't believe you actually fell for it so easily. Seriously, what goes on in that thick skull of yours?"
Sephera's laughter echoed through the hall—and she had every right. From the moment she'd seen Ammalia, she'd released a colorless, odorless nerve toxin, filling the entire parlor, slowly poisoning her with every breath.
And as it turned out, the effect was even better than she'd hoped. Ammalia had, in her panic, started gulping for breath, her heartbeat racing, inhaling almost all the poison in the room. With her blood racing, the toxins had circulated instantly, paralyzing her head to toe.
Panic swelling up, Ammalia began screaming: "Guards! Guards, where are you?!"
Sephera looked down with cold disdain. "Save your breath. Please. What, you thought I'd be dumb enough not to deal with your flunkies before taking you out?"
"You're really underestimating me. No one is coming—you're all alone. Accept your fate."
Ammalia's beady little eyes narrowed, looking more venomous than ever. But she had to accept that, at least for tonight, she had no way to turn the tables. Utter despair flooded her heart.
Still, furious, she spat out a venomous curse: "You bitch… and that bastard priest of yours… you'll both pay in blood, sooner or later!"
Sephera crossed her arms over her chest, looking down in utter contempt. "Pathetic and vile worm. You really thought with those second-rate cheap tricks you begged for on your knees, you could stand against the Great Priest Charles?"
That line was the last straw—Ammalia exploded with rage: "Who are you calling a worm?!"
"You," Sephera snarled, not missing a beat. "You're a fool. The world is full of paths to get what you want, but you went and chose the dumbest, most dangerous way—you cut a deal with a devil!"
She didn't hold back, every word sharp as a knife. House Cassalanter's pact with Regolas was old news to all the witches—Charles had made sure of it. Sephera's mocking continued, mercilessly: "Look at you, all the awful things you've done, all the people you pissed off, sold your soul—and for what?"
"Hah! You're Liberl Port's clown, number one by a mile. No need for a red nose; just pop up anywhere and you're more ridiculous than any court jester!"
"Really, if your story ever got out unfiltered, it'd be the greatest comedy act in history, Ammalia Cassalanter!"
Every word was savage, but not a single curse—yet each one dug deep into Ammalia's soul, fueling a fury that made her shake.
"You… you monster! You—!"
She shouted, but the poison dug deeper, her whole body turning rigid as a corpse. Even her tongue went stiff as a board, leaving her goggle-eyed, utterly helpless, nothing but silent, impotent rage.
Sephera finally exhaled, feeling clear and refreshed after her tirade. Only one thing irked her: Ammalia was still a noble, and the secret upper-class rule in Liberl Port was not to break a rival completely. To avoid dragging Charles into trouble, she really couldn't just kill this fat woman.
All she could do was tie her up, gather the evidence, turn her over to the courts, and let Laeral Silverhand and the city's other nobles judge her accordingly. That was just how things had to be. Otherwise, everyone would suspect Charles killed Ammalia first, then fabricated the evidence—sparking a noble panic and putting Charles permanently on the defensive.
So, as much as it chafed, Sephera couldn't actually finish her off… not yet.
Her body lifted lightly, sprang over the railing, and landed beside Ammalia to truss her up, ready for the authorities.
But suddenly, as Sephera reached for her, her mind went blank. It was as if she'd slipped out of the timeline itself—able to vaguely sense everything, but unable to touch or change anything.
She snapped back to herself only as the whole mansion started to quake. A massive wall of ice erupted from the earth, like a glacier splitting the entire Cassalanter estate in two!
Sephera's face hardened instantly. She grabbed Ammalia's collar and bolted with lightning speed.
...
The instant Charles uttered the word "Mephistopheles," time stopped.
At least, that's how it felt. Powerless to move, as a spellcaster lacking legendary status or a time dragon's favor, Charles was utterly frozen—unable to act or even sense the passage of time.
When the effect lifted, he regained his senses just in time to see a gigantic ice wall exploding from the basement floor, slicing the whole Cassalanter estate cleanly in half!
"Shit!"
He cursed and dived aside, just dodging the rising wall as debris crashed down in chunks, forcing him to hastily throw up a Shield just to avoid being crushed.
"Phew!"
Spitting the dust from his mouth, he pushed off the fallen rocks and looked up. The Cassalanter mansion's roof was cleanly bisected, and above him, the night sky sparkled—full of stars and a bright moon.
Floating high above, he saw Vajra Safahr, clad in pitch-black archmage robes and wielding the legendary artifact Blackstaff, suspended by magical power.
Golden light shimmered around her—Charles recognized it instantly. That was the 9th-level spell "Invulnerability." With this, she was immune to all harm, not even an archdevil could touch her!
The sight of Vajra's silhouette made Charles sigh with relief.
Thank goodness, the legendary mage had arrived!
With Vajra's true strength on the battlefield, everything felt under control.
Just as in the game: once you have Blackstaff Madam's badge, Liberl Port becomes the player's absolute home turf! Within the city, and even a hundred kilometers out, you could summon her as an assist NPC to wipe out any threat.
This was why the item was so hard to obtain before reaching legendary status in-game—letting players bring in a demigod-level support would be way too overpowered.
But this wasn't a game. In the real world, there were no artificial balance restrictions. So Charles, far weaker than a legendary archmage, now found himself wielding an asset that could carry him through Liberl Port's endgame content.
That was the real ace up his sleeve tonight.
In the sky now, two legendary spellcasters faced off, their senses locked on one another, both fully aware of the threat that the other posed—it was as if Charles on the ground no longer existed.
Mephistopheles, recognizing Vajra's true bloodline as a tiefling, gave a sad smile. "With that heritage of yours, why waste your talent on protecting these mortals?"
"You're a real genius, never relying on anyone's charity. Your gifts shouldn't be wasted in this city," he said, extending a hand. "Join me, and we'll unlock the greatest secrets of magic together!"
His words carried more than mere persuasion—there was power woven into them, magic to ensnare even legendary minds, turning any who faltered into his servant.
Unfortunately for him, Vajra was Vajra. She only glared and spat back: "Dream on! Devil, this is the material world. You don't get to run amok here!"
She brandished the Blackstaff, the artifact's tip blazing crimson as she launched into a booming chant, "Blade of Disaster!"
A ten-meter-long spatial rift sliced through the air, manifesting like a sword and stabbing straight at Mephistopheles!
On the ground, Charles immediately recognized the 9th-level spell—Blade of Disaster!
The most devastating single-target DPS spell a mage could cast—a spatial blade capable of tearing through anything. Even an archdevil's avatar, if hit head-on, would be crippled for sure!
Faced with this spell, Mephistopheles didn't dare slack off. His giant wings snapped open and he shot to the side at full speed, trying to dodge. But the Blade of Disaster twisted and veered as if it knew his every move—intercepting him perfectly.
Down below, Charles couldn't make out every spell, but his gamer's intuition filled in the blanks: Vajra must have pre-buffed herself with the other 9th-level spell, "Foresight." With the premonitions Foresight granted, she could anticipate any attack and take the initiative.
He couldn't help but marvel—Time Stop, Invulnerability, Foresight, Blade of Disaster… four 9th-level spells thrown out before the real fight even got going. The clash of top-tier legendaries truly made the sky rain gold. If all those spells had been Meteor Swarm instead, most of Liberl Port would be a smoking crater by now!
If Charles could see all those buffs on Vajra, there was no way Mephistopheles, the master of arcane arts, couldn't as well. Knowing he couldn't brute force his way through the fully armed Vajra, he flew like mad, threw up magical shields to deflect the Blade of Disaster, and cast: "Dispel Magic!"
In less than a second, he finished the spell—Dispel Magic, the bane of buffs everywhere!
"Counterspell!" Vajra tried to interrupt his cast, but Mephistopheles, despite his previous spell, unleashed his own "Counterspell!" as well.
His power seemed endless, chaining Quickened Spell feats without pause. The two Counterspells canceled out, so Dispel Magic landed cleanly on Vajra.
Invisible magical force swept through her, and in the next instant, her Invulnerability and Foresight were stripped away.
Charles's heart dropped.
An archdevil's avatar in the mortal world was nearly a copy of their real self. The only difference: they were more fragile, and they couldn't bring any of their most powerful magical items.
In game terms: no gear, half HP.
Naturally, that meant the avatar's fighting power took a huge hit compared to their true body. But for Mephistopheles, whose strength was almost entirely spellcasting, he was still a walking, talking disaster.
Would the only answer against him tonight be Laeral Silverhand herself?
Charles didn't know. In the sky, the battle was only just beginning.
Seeing Vajra's spells erased, Mephistopheles's lips curled into a cruel smile. He lifted a hand and began a new incantation: "Imprisonment!"
Imprisonment—a 9th-level spell. No matter how powerful you are, if you're trapped by it, you're lost—sealed inside a crystal and left at your enemy's mercy.
This time, Vajra didn't even raise a hand or utter a word. Mephistopheles's magic gathered, then faded into nothing—like the spell had never existed.
Down below, Charles recognized the trick.
Metamagic: Quickened Spell plus Silent Spell, letting you cast with no gestures or words—leaving your enemy clueless until it's too late to counter.
Vajra's silent defense had negated Imprisonment in secret. The moment after, she launched a new incantation: "Illusory Dragon!"
"Roar—!"
Icy mist whirled behind her, and three seconds later, a gigantic silver dragon materialized. Over forty meters long, silver scales catching the moonlight, gold slit-eyes blazing with fury at the archdevil. It bared its fangs and unleashed a torrent of freezing breath!
A terrible chill surged through Charles, nearly paralyzing him with fear. He almost bolted, but the dragon's presence wasn't aimed at him. Thanks to Eldritch Mind, he quickly shook it off.
He recognized that spell too: 8th-level Illusory Dragon!
It let you create a shadow-born dragon to terrorize your foes and, with a simulated Dragon's Breath, unleash devastating attacks!
With both spells pressuring him, Mephistopheles was instantly on the defensive.
"Absorb Elements!"
Dodging madly and weaving away from the Blade of Disaster, the archdevil eagerly sucked up the illusory dragon's icy breath. Next, he whipped off several more spells: "Fire Storm!"
"Finger of Death!"
Never pausing, he rapid-fired yet another round of Quickened Spell. Both new spells were 7th-level—first Fire Storm, filling the air with a raging inferno, a giant tornado of flame churning through the hall, consuming everything flammable.
The next, Finger of Death, targeted Vajra, threatening to end her life in an instant.
The black-red death ray slashed through the sky, but Vajra didn't bother counterspelling—her midnight-black archmage's robe shimmered with magic, and the Finger of Death simply vanished.
She was running triple-duty: hunting Mephistopheles with Blade of Disaster, breathing cold with the illusory dragon, and watching out for any truly lethal high-circle magic—leaving her magic items to soak up the weaker spells.
But even so, she wasn't spent. She went four-wide: "Sunbeam!"
A 6th-level spell—Sunbeam!
A glaring pillar of radiant energy shot toward the archdevil, who threw up an ice crystal shield that reflected it right back at Vajra.
But at the same time—the silver dragon sprayed another arctic blast and the Blade of Disaster plunged straight for the archdevil's chest!
~~~
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