[Time]: The 7th Second of the Entrance Duel
[Location]: Reality Marble · Execution Court
BOOM—!!
The "Fastball" compressed with double gravity hit the ground. Orange-red flames blossomed like a lotus of death, swallowing half the arena.
From within the rolling flames and dust, a dark red blur rolled out.
Hathaway knelt on one knee, using the [Silver Star] to prop herself up. The hem of her expensive red velvet military coat scorched black at the corner. She gasped for air, her fingertips white from exertion.
So fast.
If she hadn't relied on the Ludwig family's ancestral [Neural Overclock] to force her body three meters left, that fireball would have blasted her back to her last save file.
"Is that all?"
The dust settled. A cold, elegant voice cut through the roar of the flames.
Victoria Wellington stood inside that two-meter-diameter blue circle. The blast wave had parted ways obediently three inches from her body, as if hitting an invisible wall. Not a single strand of her long silver hair was out of place.
"Too crude."
Victoria didn't even deign to draw her staff. "Mana utilization rate is under 40%. You actually had superfluous limb movements while dodging? Do the Lions of Ludwig rely on dancing to avoid attacks?"
Hathaway gritted her teeth. This blind bat didn't even look her in the eye, yet pinpointed every flaw with precision.
But Hathaway didn't panic. Her gamer brain locked onto the glowing blue ring on the ground.
You want to play the untouchable turret? Fine. Let's see how long you can parry when you've abandoned your evasion stat.
[Conjuration · Grease]. [Evocation · Fireball Sequence].
Hathaway's casting speed was terrifying—the raw privilege of 42,000 M-Units. A large puddle of black alchemical grease materialized inside the circle beneath Victoria's feet. Immediately, three basketball-sized fireballs whistled towards her in a triangle formation.
"Heh. Textbook amateurism."
Victoria frowned slightly. Reflected in her unfocused blue eyes were not flames, but mana wavelengths. She extended her right hand, pinching her thumb and index finger together.
Snap.
[Sonic Magic · Resonance Collapse]
A high-frequency vibration enveloped the fireballs. No explosion. The three aggressive projectiles popped like balloons, self-disassembling into primordial fire particles. Victoria then tapped her toe, using [Gravity Magic · Repulsion] to force the sticky grease away from her soles.
"That's it?" Victoria withdrew her hand. "Besides throwing mana out like bricks, what else can you do? Is your brain made of muscle?"
Hathaway didn't bother replying. She just smiled.
You blocked it perfectly. But you had to block it. You couldn't just step back.
Hathaway raised her staff again. Let's see your mana efficiency against my raw artillery.
Hathaway executed a rapid-fire sequence of mixed-category edge cases. [Melf's Acid Arrow]. [Magic Missile]. [Disarm]. [Blindness/Deafness]. She abandoned precision entirely, treating her spellbook like a Gatling gun aimed exclusively at that two-meter circle.
Colorful spell radiances erupted from her staff in a torrential flood.
Victoria's elegant composure finally cracked.
She stood in that small circle, waving her fingers rapidly. Acid was shattered by sound waves. Missiles were deflected by vectors. But the sheer volume was staggering. Because Victoria refused to step out of the circle, she was forced to actively intercept every single piece of garbage magic Hathaway threw at her.
This barbarian isn't aiming, Victoria realized, a bead of sweat forming on her pale neck. She's just flooding the coordinates. If this attrition continues...
Three minutes of high-intensity bombardment.
Hathaway leaned heavily on her staff, panting. The [Silver Star] was scalding hot. She hadn't broken Victoria's defense, but she had forced the arrogant Wellington young lady to play her game.
"Enough."
Victoria's voice was tight. That "Red Art Piece" possessed massive mana but wielded it like a caveman with an artifact. She couldn't afford to be chipped to death in a war of attrition by a rookie. She had to end this.
"Let me show you what a true caster looks like."
Victoria finally lowered her hands. Her unfocused blue eyes snapped wide open. A terrifying pressure descended instantly.
[Wellington Secret Art · The Sound of Silence]
Buzz!
Hathaway felt a sharp pain in her eardrums. The surrounding air solidified. All sound vanished. Then, an irresistible, massive sound pressure squeezed in from all directions.
Thud.
Hathaway's knees gave way. She was pinned firmly to the ground, unable to move a muscle. The [Silver Star] clattered from her grip, rolling out of reach.
A stun-lock?! Hathaway's mind screamed, her Earth-gamer trauma flaring up. I was winning the attrition war and you just drop an unavoidable AoE Crowd Control?! Bullshit mechanic!
Victoria still stood in that circle. She lowered her head slightly, her voice cold as judgment:
"Miss Ludwig, your performance ends here. Your mana is vast, but it reeks of a disgusting 'Nouveau Riche' stench."
Hathaway lay in the dirt, the air in her lungs squeezed out bit by bit.
Driven into a corner, immobilized by an unfair mechanic, the Transmigrator's soul erupted with the pure, unadulterated rage of a gamer caught in an infinite CC chain. To disrupt the opponent's casting—even for a split second—she screamed the most classic curse from her past life:
"Fu*k off!!!"
"And go to HELL!! Victoria!!"
...
......
In that instant.
The sound pressure weighing on her like a mountain showed a tiny, infinitesimal tremor.
[Perspective Shift: Victoria]
"Go to Hell..."
The phrase hit Victoria like a thunderclap, instantly short-circuiting her rigorous combat logic.
Hell.
To Earthlings, a fiery purgatory.
But to Witches? It was the ultimate Lost El Dorado.
Ever since the Great Crusade decades ago, "Hell" was a synonym for infinite, unexploited resources. It was a dimension of pure, liquid wealth that had somehow vanished from the cosmic map.
Therefore, in high-society Witch slang, telling someone to "Go to Hell with me" wasn't a curse. It translated to: "I want to share the greatest lost treasure in the universe with you. Let's conquer the ultimate wealth together."
It was the highest, most absurdly romantic vow a Witch could offer.
Victoria's flawless brain crashed:
Current Status: Executing a peasant.
Opponent's Action: Screaming a breathtakingly intimate, deep-lore marriage proposal at me.
Conclusion: ...???
Is she insane? Victoria thought, her heart skipping a beat. Why offer such a majestic vow to the enemy about to execute her? Is this the legendary "Generosity of the Lion"?
This catastrophic "Logical Dissonance"—the sheer shock of her arch-nemesis aggressively proposing to her mid-duel—caused Victoria to freeze. She pulled back her mana, her icy killing intent entirely replaced by extreme, bewildered caution.
"You..." Victoria frowned, her pale cheeks flushing slightly under the heavy impact of this psychological strike. "Are you serious?"
[Perspective Shift: Hathaway]
Serious my ass!
I don't know what kind of bug I just triggered, but the boss stopped casting!
"All is fair in war, Milady!"
Hathaway didn't reach for her staff. Instead, her left hand, hidden in her sleeve, swung out violently.
[Rogue Cantrip · Potent Blinding Powder (Extra Spicy Edition)]
Ingredients: High-Purity Ghost Pepper Powder + Flash Powder + Skunk Extract.
Poof—!
A cloud of red powder hit Victoria's confused, slightly flushed face.
[Perspective Shift: Victoria]
"—!!"
Victoria's expression twisted. This wasn't emotion; this was physiological rejection. Like a cat tasting fine wine suddenly being force-fed a mouthful of wasabi.
"ACHOO—!!!"
An earth-shattering sneeze.
To avoid this stench, Victoria's body instinctively performed an evasive maneuver before her brain could even process the betrayal.
Backstep.
Click.
Her spotless high heel landed crisply outside the boundary of the blue circle.
...
......
[Referee Ruling: Victoria Wellington - Out of Bounds]
[Winner: Hathaway von Ludwig]
BOOM—!!
The barrier dissipated. The noise from outside rushed in like a tsunami.
"Holy mana!!!"
"She won?! That Ludwig actually won?!"
"What was that just now? Alchemy poison gas? That's too shady!"
"Brilliant! Is this the legendary 'Diplomacy Build'? Confuse the opponent with chat, then strike dirty!"
In the center of the arena.
Hathaway gasped for air, retrieving her [Silver Star] staff like a lifeline. She watched Victoria, who was frantically wiping her nose with a handkerchief, tears streaming down her face from the spice.
Won. Hathaway's heart pounded. I actually glitched the elite Aristocrat's AI.
"Lud... wig..."
A voice speaking through gritted teeth drifted over, heavy with nasal congestion and the chill of pure fury.
Victoria finally stopped sneezing. She covered her red nose with that exquisite handkerchief. Her originally distant blue eyes were now streaming with physiological tears, aimed precisely at Hathaway.
This time, there was no "Misunderstanding Filter." In Victoria's perception, the red mosaic in front of her had become synonymous with Liar, Robber, and Scam Artist.
"Is this your method?" Victoria's voice was as cold as Siberian wind. "Using the bait of that vow to interfere with my judgment, then seizing the opportunity to use these... gutter tactics?"
She trembled with rage. For a moment, she actually thought the other party was proposing a truce to share coordinates! And the result? It was naked fraud!
"As expected of a Ludwig." Victoria took a deep breath. "To win, you even joke about something like 'The Great Obsession'. You disgust me."
Hathaway paused.
Bait? Obsession? Vow?
I have no idea what lore this NPC is talking about, but the glitch worked.
She straightened her back, flashing a standard winner's smile. "All is fair in war, Miss Wellington. You said it yourself: if I make you step out of the circle, I win."
She dusted herself off. "You lost. According to the rules, I'm enrolled now."
Victoria's knuckles turned white. She was silent for three seconds, then elegantly adjusted her skirt, resuming her high-and-mighty posture.
"Very well. Rules are rules." Victoria turned her back, her voice icy. "I acknowledge your enrollment qualification. But that does not mean I accept you."
She turned her head slightly, her teary eyes full of warning. "I will be watching you. Liar."
With that, she left directly, rushing to wash her eyes.
[Time]: Thirty Minutes Later
[Location]: Yggdrasil Academy · Dean's Office
Behind a desk carved from a single block of obsidian sat a beauty with immense oppressive presence. Holding a slender smoking pipe, she narrowed her golden serpentine eyes, watching the holographic slow-motion replay of the duel.
Dean of Students · Hecate.
A veteran of the "Great Hell Crusade," and the former frontline commander in charge of "Hellfire Saturation Bombing."
"Tsk tsk tsk... 'Go to Hell'?"
Hecate exhaled a ring of pale purple smoke. Her golden eyes turned to Hathaway.
"Little one, your psychological warfare is... antique. Using the 'Old Generation's Obsession' to fish that sheltered young lady?"
Hathaway blinked.
Wait. Hell is their military trophy?
Hecate flicked the ash lightly, her gaze becoming a bit distant.
"Young people nowadays have too many misunderstandings about that place. Always thinking it's some kind of slaughterhouse." Hecate chuckled lightly, her tone as flat as if describing spring cleaning. "When we attacked Baelgrad, there really weren't any 'piles of dead bodies' for us to climb over. Because after we cut the demons' defensive connection, and 300,000 Witches unloaded hundreds of millions of tons of firepower in three hours... There wasn't even a complete bacterium left there. We walked in on flat ground."
She looked at Hathaway, her eyes gleaming with the arrogance of an apex predator.
"Remember, Hell is empty not because the devils ran away. It is empty because we went there."
Hathaway felt her scalp tingle.
So that's why Victoria acted like I broke a sacred vow. I accidentally proposed a joint military conquest!
"However, times have changed." Hecate withdrew her killing intent, returning to her lazy demeanor. "Kids nowadays fight too 'civilized.' Using the 'Obsession' to create a psychological stun, then throwing lime powder? Hahahaha! I appreciate this ruthless pragmatism. Witches don't need glory; Witches only need victory. You did well."
She flicked her slender finger. A brass key engraved with rose patterns landed precisely in Hathaway's arms.
[Yggdrasil · Third Branch · Golden Bough Apartments], Room 302.
Hecate looked at Hathaway with a smile that promised drama.
"That is one of the best suites in the Golden Bough. Originally, that little girl Victoria paid triple the fee to apply for solo occupancy, citing 'unable to tolerate the sound of others breathing due to the Wellington family's keen senses'.
"But, since you two coordinated so 'tacitly' on the field just now..." The Dean waved her hand, rejecting the privilege application. "She needs a 'lively' roommate like you to heal her."
Hathaway clutched the key, her face going pale.
"Dean... have a heart... this is murder, right?" Hathaway choked out. "You're stuffing an enemy who just threw chili powder in her face in there? I will really die!"
"Oh, don't say that." Hecate toasted Hathaway with a smile full of malice. "Isn't the defensive connection of us Witches built through this kind of 'life or death' bonding? Go, Little Lion. Don't keep your roommate waiting. She might be sharpening her knife inside right now."
...
Hathaway walked out of the Dean's office like a walking corpse. She looked at the heavy brass key in her hand, as if watching a gate to Hell slowly opening.
"Go to Hell..." Hathaway stood in the hallway, revealing a smile uglier than crying. "Great. Talk about Instant Karma."
"This isn't Yggdrasil Academy... this is clearly the Express Train to Hell!"