"You have a point," Morin said, nodding with approval.
He wasn't approving Casillas's reasoning.
He was approving the fact that Casillas was following the exact script Morin had anticipated.
To avoid alerting the Ancient One, Morin had only brushed Casillas's mind for an instant before withdrawing his telepathy. He had merely lit the fuse on Casillas's temper. What the man said afterward should've been out of his control.
Yet somehow, Casillas had cooperated perfectly.
Good boy. I won't beat you to death later. I'll leave you some dignity as a reward.
"As a sorcerer, I truly haven't had the chance to demonstrate my strength before everyone here," Morin continued calmly. "I should thank Master Casillas for pointing that out. Without a demonstration, it's only natural for doubts to arise."
He smiled lightly.
"After all, I look very young. And I am very young. More importantly, the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't represent only strength, but responsibility."
Casillas: "..."
Why was this guy saying everything he planned to say?
If all his lines were stolen, what was he supposed to say?
"To demonstrate my strength," Morin went on, "I'll choose the method everyone can accept most easily."
He scanned the crowd.
With a wave of his hand, light washed over the gaudy red stage, the banners, ribbons, and decorative nonsense. When the light faded, everything was gone.
In its place stood a massive, flat, circular stone platform.
"If anyone doubts me," Morin said pleasantly, "feel free to come up and duel me. If one person isn't enough, several masters may join together. I'm willing to try."
At the same time, Morin let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The stage was gone.
Social death averted.
Only someone deeply familiar with modern Chinese internet culture would've understood what that setup implied. Even if he'd stood there, the embarrassment would probably have existed only in his own head.
Still, why risk it?
There were sorcerers here.
And beings from other dimensions watching from the void.
If one of them got the reference, wouldn't he be finished?
No risks. Not even microscopic ones.
While Morin was still marveling at his escape from a public relations disaster, the surrounding sorcerers were stunned into silence.
When Casillas spoke earlier, most of them had been watching for entertainment. That was one of the reasons they'd come.
Casillas was the Ancient One's disciple. The smartest. The fastest improving.
Yet the next Sorcerer Supreme wasn't him.
Interesting.
Sorcerers had their own circles. The Sorcerer Supreme held real power. It was hard to say whether Casillas's rapid growth had anything to do with the investments placed on him.
If the Ancient One had chosen wrong, maybe Casillas could still fight for it.
And those investors could become "kingmakers."
But the pace was too fast.
How did an inauguration turn into a duel?
And this unfamiliar young man-handsome, confident-had just invited anyone to challenge him?
Where did that confidence come from?
Then they noticed something else.
The Ancient One hadn't objected.
At all.
That alone explained everything.
If Morin were weaker than Casillas, the choice would be absurd.
So either Morin was stronger-
Or no one here was qualified to test him.
And even if he weren't, who would dare step forward now?
Wouldn't that be slapping the Ancient One's face?
Retired or not, her power still existed.
Divine retribution wasn't a joke.
With that thought, no one spoke.
Some older sorcerers even closed their eyes, pretending they hadn't heard a thing, planning to open them only once the outcome was decided.
Casillas was suddenly stranded.
He wasn't stupid. If he were, he wouldn't be called a genius.
He knew the Ancient One must have full confidence in Morin.
His heart just refused to accept it.
But it was too late.
He didn't have the Eye of Agamotto to rewind time and stop himself.
If he did, he wouldn't have needed to speak at all.
He had hoped to provoke someone else into testing the waters.
But who here was a fool?
Who would rush out as cannon fodder?
Now there was no retreat.
Morin wouldn't let him off.
Morin needed him for a clean face-slap.
"I'll do it!"
Under Morin's expectant gaze-one Casillas interpreted as provocation-Casillas roared and leapt onto the platform.
Morin: "..."
That's it?
No flashy entrance?
Right. Starter mob.
After reflecting briefly on his behavior of smurfing as a Grandmaster in a beginner bracket, Morin stepped onto the platform.
He had promised dignity.
He would keep it.
Even if he'd been pushed into this by a certain two-faced Ancient One.
Just minutes ago, he'd resolved not to touch Casillas unless provoked.
Now he'd stirred the man into provoking him.
Once was already crossing a line.
Twice would damage his integrity.
Morin sighed inwardly.
"I'll give you face," he decided.
Smiling, he asked, "Before we start, is this an unrestricted duel? Or are there limits?"
"Unrestricted," Casillas said confidently. "That way there are no excuses."
"Very well," Morin nodded. "You go first."
Casillas didn't hesitate.
The instant Morin finished speaking, he charged, hands forming a strange seal.
Morin: "..."
He could see the transparent blade clearly.
Pure magic. Sharp. Solid.
The same blade that had pierced the Ancient One in the original story.
Morin felt nothing for that so-called destined death.
It was fake.
All of it.
A bald sorcerer clocking out after centuries of unpaid overtime.
Look closely at those battles. Flashy visuals. Zero damage.
Melee weapons. No Eye of Agamotto. No real spells.
If she didn't want to retire, she wouldn't have died.
Simple.
The more Morin thought about it, the more pity he felt for Casillas.
A tool.
Used to retire the Ancient One.
Used to level Doctor Strange.
Now used as Morin's shield.
Though, to be fair, causality was his own doing.
Casillas saw Morin's gaze as arrogance.
His rage boiled over.
Black mist wrapped around the blade.
Morin: "..."
Why was it always melee?
Warp buildings.
Swing magic swords.
Where were the long-range spells?
The turrets?
The magical machine guns?
Did everyone follow the Gandalf school?
Gandalf could do that because he was an angel.
You're just a minor sorcerer.
True sorcerers needed strong bodies.
So when mana ran out, they could armor up, mount horses, and trade blows-
While watching out for knights pulling forbidden spells.
Morin kept his mockery internal.
No need to crush Casillas's ego further.
But the black mist bothered him.
Power wasn't good or evil.
People made it so.
But black magic spell structures were flawed. They amplified negative emotions. Without control, they led to corruption.
At Morin's level-or the Ancient One's-that was fixable.
For others, it wasn't.
That was why black magic was banned outright.
Not because it was evil.
Because humans were unreliable.
"There's a problem with the magic you're learning."
Morin lost interest.
He waved his hand.
A complex magic circle formed, incorporating electromagnetic principles.
Instantly, the blade vanished.
Casillas froze.
"What did you do?!"
Invisible force pinned him in place.
"A Faraday cage," Morin said. "Magic version. It isolates mana. Your power is borrowed. I cut the connection."
"This is black magic!" Casillas shouted desperately.
A stout sorcerer with a Chinese face stepped forward. "What you used was black magic."
Many nodded.
Casillas had clearly crossed the line.
Like stepping out of bounds and denying it.
What did they think this was?
Were the referees blind?