[Location]: Reality Marble · Execution Court
BOOM—!!
The "Fastball" compressed with double gravity hit the ground. Orange-red flames blossomed like a lotus of death, instantly swallowing half the arena.
The shockwave from the explosion, mixed with searing heat, slammed viciously against the inner walls of the barrier, stirring up ripples of pale gold light.
From within the rolling flames and dust, a dark red blur rolled out in an extremely pathetic manner.
Hathaway knelt on one knee, using the [Silver Star] to prop herself up, preventing herself from collapsing. The hem of her expensive red velvet military coat scorched black at the corner.
She gasped for air, her right hand clawing into the ground, fingertips turning white from the exertion.
So fast.
Is this the tempo of Yggdrasil?
If she hadn't relied on the Ludwig family's ancestral [Neural Overclock] to force her body to dodge three meters to the left just now, that fireball would have blasted her back to her last save file.
"Is that all?"
The dust settled. A cold, elegant voice laced with deep disappointment cut through the roar of the flames.
Victoria Wellington stood inside that two-meter-diameter blue circle. The blast wave from earlier had parted ways obediently three inches from her body, as if hitting an invisible air wall. Not a single strand of her long silver hair was messed up by the gale.
[Victoria's Perspective: Vision Simulator - Myopia 1200°]
In Victoria's blurry field of vision, which resembled an Impressionist painting, the mass of deep crimson light—which she had originally considered a "piece of art"—was now trembling violently. Even the thin line of silver light (the staff) in its hand looked unsteady.
"Too crude."
Victoria didn't even deign to draw her staff. She looked at that red mosaic, her tone filled with the harshness of disappointed expectations:
"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.
Humiliation.
This was absolute humiliation.
This blind bat didn't even look her in the eye (literally, her gaze was still fixed on the air above Hathaway's head), yet she pinpointed every flaw in her movements with precision.
"Don't get cocky! Wellington!"
Hathaway sprang up, pointing the [Silver Star] forward like a spear, a trace of ruthlessness flashing in her non-glowing deep crimson eyes.
Since you want to stand there and pose, don't blame me for carpet bombing!
"[Conjuration · Grease]!"
"[Evocation · Fireball Sequence]!"
Hathaway's casting speed was extremely fast—this was the confidence brought by 42,000 M-Units.
A large puddle of black alchemical grease appeared out of thin air inside the circle beneath Victoria's feet. Immediately after, three basketball-sized fireballs whistled towards her in a triangle formation.
Grease + Fire combo. Although cliché, under rules that restricted movement, this was an absolute Terrain Destruction Skill.
"Heh. Textbook amateurism."
Facing the incoming sea of fire, Victoria merely frowned slightly. Reflected in her unfocused blue eyes were not flames, but mana wavelengths.
"Frequency too low. Structure loose."
She extended her right hand, clad in a white lace glove, and pinched her thumb and index finger together in the air. Like crushing a fly.
Snap.
A crisp finger snap.
[Sonic Magic · Resonance Collapse]
Vrrrm—!!
A strange high-frequency vibration instantly covered the three fireballs. No explosion, no sky-high flames.
The three aggressive fireballs popped like balloons. One meter away from Victoria, with a pfft sound, they self-disassembled into primordial fire element particles.
As for the Grease spell on the ground?
Victoria tapped her toe lightly.
[Gravity Magic · Repulsion]
The sticky grease acted as if it had met a natural predator, automatically flowing around her soles to form a perfect ring.
"That's it?" Victoria withdrew her hand, her unfocused eyes full of mockery. "This is a Ludwig? Besides throwing mana out like bricks, what else can you do? Are your brains made of muscle?"
Hathaway's mental state collapsed.
This wasn't a battle. This was a Dimensional Strike. It was like a human crushing a stick figure drawing on paper.
The opponent hadn't even used High-Tier spells. Just by using technique and absolute control over mana structure, she turned Hathaway's full-power attack into a joke.
"Again!"
Hathaway refused to believe it. She waved the [Silver Star] frantically, the staff cutting through the air with desperate whistles.
"[Melf's Acid Arrow]! [Magic Missile]! [Disarm]! [Blindness/Deafness]!"
Colorful spell radiances exploded from the tip of her staff like fireworks.
But in front of Victoria, it was all futile.
She was like a conductor, standing elegantly in that small circle, waving her fingers lightly. Acid was shattered by sound waves. Missiles were deflected by vector manipulation. The light of the Blindness spell was less bright than a firefly in her already blurry vision.
Three minutes.
Three whole minutes of indiscriminate bombardment. Hathaway was tired as a dog, leaning heavily on her staff for support, her mana bottoming out. The [Silver Star], usually cool to the touch, was now scalding hot from overuse.
Victoria, on the other hand, hadn't even wrinkled the hem of her skirt.
"Let's end this."
Victoria seemed to have finally lost patience. That "Red Art Piece" disappointed her too much. Possessing massive mana but wielding it like a caveman with an artifact.
"Let me show you what a true caster looks like."
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Victoria put down her teacup (metaphorically, in her mind) for the first time. Her unfocused blue eyes suddenly snapped wide open.
Although she couldn't see, a terrifying pressure from the depths of her soul descended instantly.
[Wellington Secret Art · The Sound of Silence]
Buzz!
Hathaway felt a sharp pain in her eardrums like being stabbed by needles.
The surrounding air solidified instantly. All sound vanished. Not isolated by a barrier, but devoured.
Immediately after, an irresistible, massive sound pressure squeezed in from all directions like invisible giant hands.
Thud.
Hathaway's knees gave way, and she was pinned firmly to the ground, unable to move. The [Silver Star] clattered from her grip, rolling just out of reach.
Her lungs felt like they were on fire; every breath became incredibly difficult.
Despair.
Was this the power of that family?
Victoria still stood in that circle. She lowered her head slightly (looking at Hathaway's left ear), her voice cold as judgment:
"Miss Ludwig, your performance ends here. Your mana is vast, but it reeks of a disgusting 'Nouveau Riche' stench. Go back and read some books. Though I doubt a gorilla can understand 'High-Dimensional Geometry'."
Hathaway lay in the dirt, the air in her lungs being squeezed out bit by bit.
But in her non-glowing deep crimson pupils, there was no emotion called "resignation," only a frantically burning will to survive.
She was looking for an opening. Even while being rubbed against the ground, she was looking for a chance to bite off a piece of the enemy's flesh.
Driven to a corner, the Transmigrator's soul erupted with a final roar. To disrupt the opponent's mental state (even for just a split second), she screamed the most classic curse from her past life at the high-and-mighty, arrogant Victoria:
"Fu*k off!!!"
"And go to HELL!! Victoria!!"
This roar used up the last of her strength.
...
......
In that instant.
The sound pressure that was 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 no longer a place of punishment. It was a synonym for infinite, unexploited resources. It was the greatest "Unfinished Business" in Witch history—a dimension of pure, liquid wealth that had somehow vanished from the cosmic map right before the Witches could finish looting it.
The coordinates were lost, leaving an entire race with a severe case of generational financial trauma.
Therefore, in high-society Witch slang, screaming "Go to Hell" translated directly to: "I found the missing coordinates! Let's call a truce, go loot it together, and buy a galaxy!"
Victoria's flawless brain crashed:
1. Current Status: Life-or-death duel.
2. Opponent's Action: Screaming the location of the greatest lost treasure in history at me.
3. Conclusion: ...???
Is she insane? Victoria thought, her heart skipping a beat. Why offer such a majestic financial blessing to the enemy about to execute her? Is this the legendary "Generosity of the Lion"? The Ludwigs even care about their enemy's wallet?!
This catastrophic "Logical Dissonance"—and the sheer, blinding temptation of the ultimate lost treasure—caused Victoria to freeze completely. She even leaned forward, the icy killing intent in her eyes entirely replaced by the cautious hesitation of a business negotiator.
"You..." Victoria frowned, her voice losing its cold composure under the heavy impact of this financial blessing. "Are you serious?"
[Perspective Shift: Hathaway]
Serious my ass!
I don't know what this rich girl is imagining, but this is the opening I wanted!
"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 was thrown straight at Victoria's confused, expectant face.
[Perspective Shift: Victoria]
"—!!"
Victoria's expression twisted instantly.
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 think.
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!"
"Despicable! Shameless! But I love it!"
In the center of the arena.
Hathaway gasped for air, crawling over to retrieve 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).
Her heart pounded wildly.
Won... I won?
This rich girl is way too easy to trick, right?
"Hath... a... way..."
A voice speaking through gritted teeth drifted over, heavy with nasal congestion and the chill of absolute 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, glaring directly at Hathaway.
This time, there was no "Misunderstanding Filter." No "Fog of Riches."
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 place to interfere with my judgment, then seizing the opportunity to use this... this gutter tactics?"
She trembled with rage. For a moment just now, she actually thought the other party was going to share coordinates with her! And the result? It was naked fraud!
"As expected of a Ludwig." Victoria took a deep breath, trying to maintain her last shred of noble dignity. "To win, you even joke about something like 'The Great Obsession'. You make me feel regret."
Hathaway paused, leaning on her staff for support.
What? Bait? Obsession? What did I say? Didn't I just say "Go to Hell"? Why does she act like I broke a sacred oath?
But Hathaway reacted quickly. Whatever! A win is a win!
She straightened her back, flashing a standard, punchable 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, she elegantly adjusted her skirt, resuming her high-and-mighty posture.
"Very well. Rules are rules." Victoria turned around, her back to Hathaway, 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 turned and 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, her red lips curving into an extremely amused arc:
"Little one, your psychological warfare is... antique. Using the 'Old Generation's Obsession' to fish that sheltered young lady?"
Hathaway blinked.
Obsession? Is 'Hell' some kind of taboo word for old families? Like a family shame? Or a place of military glory?
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. In reality? Hmph."
Hecate chuckled lightly, her tone as flat as if describing spring cleaning:
"When we attacked Baelgrad (The Demon Capital), 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 turned her head, looking 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 it, Hathaway thought, completely misinterpreting the situation. Hell is their ultimate military trophy. Victoria thought I was mocking her family's war record!
"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 instantly.
"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!"