The eight apprentices who had already conceded huddled together, trembling all over.

  Ignoring their still-unhealed wounds, they pooled their remaining magical energy to form a defensive barrier in front of them.

  The fighting style of the two on the stage was simply too terrifying, far beyond what ordinary apprentices usually faced in trials.

  In their view, Derrick was kneeling on one knee, the tip of his flame-enchanted sword pressed into the ground, propping up his staggering body.

  His left eyeball had been injured, blood running down his cheek and collecting in a bead at his chin. His left arm was severed at the shoulder. Multiple wounds still bore charred, burned marks from magic, giving off a pungent, scorched smell.

  The tall, skinny man opposite him was no better off. His right arm had been completely severed and blood seeped from the stump. His internal magical energy was nearly exhausted and his face was pale.

  He had originally thought dealing with a First-tier Adept Mage rookie would be easy, but he had not expected the opponent to be so hard to kill. Not only did the wounds regenerate at an uncanny speed, but the other had crazily traded injury for injury.

  That fatal blow could have been avoided, yet Derrick had risked being blinded to swing and sever the man's right arm.

  Now the tall man looked at Derrick with bone-deep terror. This was no longer a contest; it was a one-sided fight to the death.

  "Old Witch, see that! I'll win for you in a moment!" Derrick suddenly let out a fierce, ugly laugh. Blood and wounds streaked his face, making his current appearance especially terrifying.

  Down below, Ryan's face had long since lost its earlier easy smile; it had been replaced by gravity.

  His brow furrowed as he watched the almost self-destructive Derrick on the stage, privately annoyed. It seemed his previous brainwashing about being a genius had gone too far.

  Why was his apprentice so foolish? He was clearly exhausted, yet refused to yield and insisted on proving himself in such an extreme way.

  Darlene's reaction was even more dramatic. No longer gloating, she felt uncontrollable worry rising in her eyes as she watched Derrick's dreadful state.

  She had never imagined that a few casual taunts from her would drive the brat to fight like this. If she had known, she definitely would not have argued with him.

  Darlene hurriedly waved at Derrick from offstage, rapidly making the sign for surrender with both hands while shouting, "Come down now! I admit it, okay? Stop fighting!"

  But Derrick would not take it as a concession. He thought she was mocking him and, his voice hoarse, cursed, "Old Witch! You want me to give up? No way! I will win today!"

  Ryan could not contain himself any longer. He strode to the judge and shouted, "He concedes! Request to end the match!"

  The judge shook his head. "Under the academy's trial rules, no one else has the right to decide a contestant's win or loss. Rest assured, if a life-threatening injury occurs, I will immediately stop the trial and prevent any danger to life."

  If either Derrick or the tall young man made a move that endangered life, the officials would intervene at once.

  "Mentor! Haven't you always said that fighting above your level is a genius's essential lesson? Watch closely, your apprentice is absolutely a genius!"

  Derrick's hoarse voice echoed across the platform, turning the belief Ryan had instilled in him about being a genius into his only support at this moment.

  His left eye socket still oozed blood, and his severed left arm throbbed with a burning sensation, yet his right hand gripping the sword remained unwavering.

  Below the stage, Ryan sighed and tapped his forehead, even briefly entertaining a ridiculous thought: should he rush over and grab the judge's arm to force him to open the barrier?

  He quickly dismissed the idea. The academy's higher-ups were clearly watching this trial, and any forceful interference would only create more trouble.

  He finally understood the academy's trial rules: as long as it did not reach a life-threatening point, contestants were allowed to push themselves to the limit.

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  Most people would concede once the outcome was clear, but someone like Derrick, fighting almost to the point of self-harm, was extremely rare.

  "You idiot! You still have time to give up! Don't push it to the end and end up permanently crippled instead of entering the academy!" The tall, skinny man stared at Derrick's reckless posture, a trace of barely noticeable fear in his tone.

  He had fought in countless trials before but had never encountered such a fanatical opponent. At this stage, Derrick saw no retreat, only victory.

  "If you're scared, why not just give up?" Derrick laughed maniacally, the sound becoming more grotesque.

  He knelt on one knee, the flame-enchanted sword in his right hand supporting his body, his eyes locked onto the tall man like a predator stalking its prey.

  "You really deserve to die!" The tall man was enraged by Derrick's words. He clutched his severed right arm, his face twisted with anger.

  If it weren't for entering the academy, he would never risk his life fighting this madman. Now with his left arm severed, losing this trial would not only drain massive magical resources to repair it but also force him to wait for the next assessment a result he could never accept.

  He gritted his teeth and lifted his sword, trying to layer it with magical energy, but the glow was almost invisible. His magical energy had been exhausted in the earlier fierce battle.

  Only now did he realize that Derrick's repeated injuries to him were not only due to recklessness but also the superior quality of his weapon.

  "Come at me again!" Derrick laughed wildly, struggling to stand while squeezing out the last remnants of his magical energy.

  His skin gradually turned dark red, and a scorching aura radiated from him. This was a sign that his light-element magic was being forcibly driven.

  The flame-enchanted sword in his hand blazed with bright orange-red light once more, more intense than any previous time.

  "You've awakened light-element magic!" The tall man's pupils contracted sharply as shock spread across his face.

  The previous battle had been too chaotic. He had been too focused on countering Derrick's desperate attacks to notice the true nature of his magic.

  Light-element magic was an exceptionally rare elemental talent that had not appeared in the academy for nearly fifty years.

  On the platform, the tall, skinny man had never seen the awakening of a light-element sword before. Coupled with Derrick's current severe injuries and the sword's glow being partially obscured by blood, he naturally hadn't suspected the rare talent.

  Derrick grinned, revealing blood-stained teeth, gripping the flame-enchanted sword as he charged at the tall man again.

  His entire body radiated intense heat, his fighting spirit erupting like a volcano. The pain coursing through him seemed burned away by the flames, leaving only the obsession to fight to the very end.

  The audience below had already been captivated by the battle, crowding closer to watch.

  Some recorded with crystal orbs, while others whispered among themselves: "This First-tier Adept Mage is insane! He's actually pushing a Fifth-tier Adept Mage to this point!"

  "Do you think he can win? This is a four-level difference, even a genius would struggle to pull this off."

  All eyes were fixed on the platform. Even the other matches seemed dull in comparison.

  This bloodied, obsessive fight ignited far more passion than those controlled, polite duels.

  "Damn it!" The tall man gritted his teeth, forced to meet the assault head-on.

  He knew he had no way out: losing this trial meant waiting for the next entrance exam. More importantly, without entering the academy, repairing his severed arm with magical grafting potions would cost him a fortune enough to bankrupt his family.

  He lifted his sword again, but his magical energy was nearly depleted.

  "Die!" Derrick roared, swinging the flame-enchanted sword in three successive strikes.

  The attacks had no formal pattern but contained devastating power. Each clash made the tall man's arms tingle, and even the platform floor developed small cracks from the sword energy.

  The clash of metal reverberated across the square. The tall man was pushed into a purely defensive stance, unable to counterattack.

  Derrick seemed as if fire would erupt from his eyes, a wild beast beyond control, sending chills down onlookers' spines.

  His manic laughter echoed across the platform. At this moment, he looked like a villain dominating the battlefield.

  As his relentless assault continued, both fighters' wounds multiplied.

  Derrick's chest was slashed deeply by sword energy, while the tall man's thigh was scorched black by flames. Blood and the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the platform.

  No experience? Then he would fight with his life! That was Derrick's only thought now.

  "Taking a potion? Not a chance!" Derrick noticed the green vial appearing in the tall man's palm.

  Without hesitation, he swung his sword. The orange-red flame of the enchanted blade shot out like a crescent, slicing straight toward the tall man's hand.

  The tall man broke out in a cold sweat, scrambling to dodge. The vial hit the ground with a snap, shattering and spilling its contents.

  He silently thanked his quick reflexes; otherwise, his left hand might have been severed like the right arm.

  Derrick left him no time to recover. With a forceful stomp, he pointed the flame-enchanted sword directly at the tall man's chest, shouting, "Die!"

  "You're insane!" The tall man shouted in shock and anger. Seeing no time to dodge, he abandoned his defense and thrust his sword toward Derrick's heart.

  He resolved to trade injury for injury. Even if he did not survive, he would not let this madman win.

  The audience below held their breath as the swords pointed at each other's hearts. Some even covered their eyes.

  This was no longer a trial but a fight to the death. Darlene went pale, instinctively rushing toward the platform, only to be held back firmly by Ryan.

  "Don't go!" Ryan's voice trembled. He stared at the platform, palms slick with sweat.

  At the exact moment the two swords were about to pierce each other's chests, a golden high-level protective magic suddenly enveloped the platform. The swords struck an invisible barrier and were instantly deflected.

  Immediately after, an authoritative voice rang from above: "Enough! The trial ends here!"

  Everyone looked up to see the academy's Headmaster standing atop the spectator platform. The magic that had just intercepted the swords was his doing.

  His gaze fell on the platform. He had noticed Derrick and Darlene from the moment they entered.

  As for Ryan, he appeared entirely unimportant to him, merely a bystander.